Fenella Miller (21 page)

Feeling considerably more cheerful Marianne got out her writing box, sorted out a pen and paper and sat down to write a long letter to Emily. She had become fond of her foster sister and found she was missing the cosy conversations they had had together. Writing a letter would help alleviate her loneliness. But thinking about Frating Hall inevitably led to thoughts of Theo and her page was soon too blotched to use. She was becoming a veritable watering pot, she had cried more in the past few days than in the whole of her life. There was far too much light to sleep with the shutters open so she unfolded them and pulled the heavy drapes as well.

When the room was dark enough she climbed into bed but soon the room became unpleasantly hot and stuffy. She had omitted to open any windows before shutting herself in for the night. Too dispirited to go back and let in some much-needed air, she turned over and closed her eyes.

She was in for a hot and sticky night and by morning she had a sick headache. The combination of no food and little air had proved a lethal one. She felt too ill to ring for Jane, or Annie; her head pounded and she felt so sick she was glad she had not eaten.

Jane arrived early, having heard about the disappointment of the previous night. ‘Oh dear, miss, you have a bad head don’t you?’ She tutted and hurried over to the windows to throw them up letting in some cool morning air. Then she carefully closed the shutters again; Marianne could not bear the light when she was ill.

* * * *

Jane and Annie were so busy taking care of her that neither ventured downstairs until late morning. By then Marianne had fallen asleep and Jane was free to go down to explain to Mrs Sampson. She discovered a note had come from Lady Ashton. Annie went to the kitchen to fetch a jug of freshly made lemonade. They both received unpleasant and shocking news.

Jane knew Mrs Sampson to be in the morning room so went to find her. She knocked and received a decidedly frosty command to enter. Mrs Sampson did not smile or invite her to be seated.

‘Mrs Smith, I understand that Miss Devenish is unwell?’

‘Yes, Mrs Sampson, she is prostrate with a sick headache.’

‘That is most unfortunate as I particularly wished to speak to her, but I suppose, I must speak to you instead.’ Jane waited, not liking either the tone or the expression on Mrs Sampson’s face. ‘Lady Ashton did not come last night because she has no desire to be associated with Miss Devenish and neither for that matter do I. Word is all over London about Miss Devenish’s scandalous behaviour, both in Bath and Essex.’

Jane pokered up. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Sampson, but I will not hear ill being spoken of Miss Devenish. She is an innocent girl and whatever you have heard is without substance.’

Mrs Sampson’s smile was thin. ‘So, Miss Devenish did not take drives in the country alone with Sir James Russell and then, when he offered for her, refuse to accept him?’

‘He never offered for her, but if he had she would not have taken him. The man is a rake of the worst kind,’ Jane snapped.

‘As I thought. You are not denying Miss Devenish behaved improperly. And Essex—the same again. She allowed one Sir Theodore Devenish to take liberties and then refused his offer of marriage and came here?’

Put so starkly and with no room for explanation this was hard to deny. ‘I repeat, madam, Miss Devenish is an innocent young woman who was shamefully used by Sir Theodore.’

‘Then why, might I ask, did she not accept his offer?’

Jane could not say. The secret was not hers to tell.

‘As soon as Miss Devenish is well I wish her to leave this house. And until she does I shall require her to remain in her room. I will have trays sent up to her. That will be all, Mrs Smith.’

Her darling Marianne was sleeping upstairs, quite unaware that someone had released upon the polite world a full and well embellished version of events. Her reputation was gone, even her status as an heiress was not enough to save her from disgrace. Jane left the morning room and almost ran back down the corridor. She met Mr Sampson in the hall.

‘Ah, Mrs Smith, a word, if you please, it is important. Come to my study.’

Jane followed him. ‘This is a sad day, indeed it is. I would not have Miss Devenish leave here like this, but it is Mrs Sampson’s decision and I do not interfere in domestic matters.’ He gestured at a chair and Jane sat. ‘However, my man was approached by chance yesterday by someone who has a property in Hertfordshire that will be ideal for your purposes. The owner is prepared to let Miss Devenish move in before the lease is signed and, as we speak, the house is being prepared for your arrival.’

‘That’s lucky, sir, for we have nowhere else to go.’

‘I shall sign the necessary papers as soon as they are prepared and send a copy down to Miss Devenish. I have not visited the place and neither has my man—but any port in a storm, eh, Mrs Smith?’

‘Yes, sir. I will organize the packing and we will be ready to depart first thing tomorrow.’ She frowned. ‘But we have no male staff to accompany us. It would be inappropriate, whatever the circumstances, for Miss Devenish to travel unescorted.’

‘The estate comes fully staffed, Mrs Smith, did I not say? I will send two grooms, they may return when your men arrive. I will, of course, send Master Edward and his servants to you as soon as they come here.’

‘What about Annie? Can she stay with us?’

‘Yes, Mrs Sampson is agreeable to letting her go; we do not wish to appear unkind.’ He stood up. ‘I will speak to Miss Devenish myself before she leaves tomorrow.’

* * * *

Marianne slept the clock round and even the sound of packing did not rouse her. She finally sat up, her headache gone, but not quite recovered. She stared around the room with growing dismay. Where were her things? Her knick-knacks, her travelling desk, her combs and brushes?

She pushed back the cover and shakily stood up.

Her head spun a little but she decided she was well enough to leave her bed. Even her ormolu mantle clock had vanished so she had no notion of the time. There was sunlight, so it must be past dawn, but whether it was five of the clock or seven she could not tell.

She opened the door that connected her bedchamber to her dressing room. She swayed and clutched the frame in shock for there, neatly strapped, stood her trunks. What had happened in the last twenty-four hours? Why was she leaving—she had only just arrived?

Feeling sick again she stumbled back into her room and finding the bell-strap, jerked it several times. She didn’t care what time it was, she needed an explanation.

She was tempted to creep back under the covers, to hide away, but restrained the impulse. Instead she sunk onto the
chaise-longue
and waited. Ten minutes dragged by before she heard footsteps in the dressing-room. Jane entered, Annie close behind her.

‘Oh, miss, I’m so glad you’re up. I have dreadful news for you I’m afraid. We have to leave here today, as soon as you’re ready.’

Marianne steadied her breathing. ‘Why have I to leave here, Jane? Tell me the rest, please.’

Jane wrung her hands. ‘Someone has been spreading gossip, miss. It’s all over Town, what happened in Bath and what happened in Great Bentley. Mrs Sampson will not have you here; your name is blackened beyond redemption.’

‘I see. Then where are we to go? I cannot go back to Frating Hall; they do not want me there either.’ Her voice cracked and Jane went forward to offer what comfort she could.

Marianne raised her hand, warning her off.

‘Mr Sampson has managed to secure the lease of a furnished and staffed property in Hertfordshire no more than a few hours’ drive from here. It is what you intended to do, we are just removing from Brook Street a trifle sooner than expected, that’s all.’

‘I see,’ Marianne said a second time, but she didn’t, not really.

Annie fetched her travelling outfit and laid it across the bed. ‘Will I go down and fetch a tray up, Mrs Smith? Miss Devenish has not eaten for ever so long.’ Marianne was about to refuse but realized it would not help to swoon from lack of sustenance.

‘Ask for two footmen to come up and collect these trunks as well. I wish you to travel with the baggage cart, Annie, then you can get things sorted before we arrive.’

‘Yes, Mrs Smith. How will I know which chamber to put Miss Devenish’s things in?’

‘In the best room, of course. And alert the Cook, and the rest of the staff of our imminent arrival.’

Marianne picked at the bread-and-butter but drank her tea with pleasure. She set her cup back loudly on the side table. ‘Good heavens! What about Edward, and the boys, and John of course? They will find us gone.’

‘Mr Sampson will send them on, never fear. And Edward is due back today to take the empty carriage back to Frating Hall. Remember he knows nothing of your discovery and will be expecting to deliver the letters himself tomorrow night.’

‘I suppose this
debacle
means Edward will not be able to charge down to Great Bentley and get himself arrested.’

‘There, always a silver lining, miss, isn’t there?’

The trunks were loaded and the luggage cart departed scarcely thirty minutes later.

* * * *

Marianne wished she could follow and not wait upon Mr Sampson who did not rise until seven thirty.

Her parting interview with her host was not a happy one. Mr Sampson assured her he would be delighted to continue to represent her interests, if she so wished. She did—she had no one else to ask.

‘I would like a half of my income to go to Lord and Lady Grierson still, can you make sure that happens, Mr Sampson?’

‘Of course, if that is what you want. There is more than enough to run your modest household on what will remain. If there is nothing more, I will bid you God speed, Miss Devenish, and we must pray that in a few years all this will be forgotten and you will be free to rejoin society.’

One of the grooms from Brook Street was designated to ride Sultan; the other joined the coachman on the box. Marianne left with no one to wave her farewell. She tried to rest but the rattle and judder of the carriage as it travelled over the cobbles made it impossible.

‘Mr Sampson says my name will remain as an anathema to everyone for years, Jane.’

‘Did he? That seems a gloomy forecast. I’m sure people will have forgotten all about it long before then.’

‘Society never forgets. I remember my mama telling me that. I also recall her telling me that a reputation, once lost, can never be regained. It is gone forever.’ The carriage sunk into silence, both contemplating what this would mean. ‘I can never marry now, Jane, no decent man will have me.’ They both knew to whom she was referring.

‘If a man loves you enough he will not care for the gossip, he will know it is untrue.’

‘I could never allow…’ she paused, her throat too clogged to continue. ‘Could not allow anyone to ruin themselves for my sake. He would be ostracised, not received anywhere, would be unable to visit Town, or his clubs. I could not do it. I love him too much.’

She groped in her bag for a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. ‘I must learn to live with the knowledge that I shall never be a wife, never hold my own child in my arms. When I decided I would retire to the country, I never dreamt it was to be a life sentence.’

* * * *

Two hours later the carriage had left behind several small villages then turned into a narrow, seldom used lane, its surface rutted.

‘Mercy me!’ Jane exclaimed as she was tossed from her place for a third time. ‘Where are we going?’

Marianne leant out of the window and called to the coachman. ‘Stop if you please, I wish to disembark.’ The groom jumped down, opened the door and unfolded steps for them. Marianne descended slowly, her nausea and headache having returned after being shut up for so long in a stuffy, bouncing carriage.

‘I intend to walk the rest of the way, Jane, I will not sit another second in that hateful carriage. It cannot be much further up this track, surely?’

The coachman, having climbed down to join them, came round, a puzzled expression on his face. ‘I was told the place we seek, Drayton House, was a couple of miles from the village, but it is more than that already. I don’t think the springs will take much more of this lane, that I don’t, Miss Devenish.’

‘It will be easier if Mrs Smith and I are not in it. We will walk ahead—you rest the horses for a while.’

‘You should not go on alone, Miss Devenish. It isn’t right, not out here; it is a dark and miserable sort of place. Anyone could be lurking in the bushes.’

Marianne smiled weakly. ‘It is broad daylight, we will be quite safe. What self-respecting footpad, or highwayman, would come to such a deserted lane?’ She looked up at the groom astride her horse. ‘Ride ahead of us and check if the lane is safe.’

Scarcely half a mile had been travelled before the track began to widen and its surface become easier. They rounded a bend and, there below, was the house she sought. She stopped so suddenly Jane cannoned into her, causing her to stagger forward.

‘What a dismal looking place, Jane. The trees seem to crowd in around it, and it looks as if it is hiding.’

‘It’s not so bad, Miss Marianne. It’s a good size and in better repair than Frating Hall.’

‘It does not look a happy house. It is mid-afternoon and, do you see, the house stands in shadow. I cannot like it.’ She sighed. ‘But I shall have to endure it for the present. I have nowhere else to go and we cannot roam about the countryside like gypsies.’

‘When my John comes back he can start looking for somewhere else, we need stay here a short while only.’

They heard the crunch of wheels behind them—the carriage was catching them up. ‘Let us go down. There is no sign of the baggage cart. I hope that means Annie is already here, Jane.’

The front door opened and a shifty looking, black garbed, man stepped out. He was as unprepossessing as the house.

‘You’re welcome, Miss Devenish, Mrs Smith. I am Ellison, your butler. The girl is stowing away your trappings. There is a cold collation laid out in the dining-room.’ Then he turned and stomped back into the house leaving them on the doorstep.

Marianne was not sure whether she was annoyed or amused. ‘How extraordinary! I do hope the rest of the staff are better mannered.’ They followed the taciturn Ellison inside. Marianne stood in the dark hall taking stock and the front door closed with an ominous clunk behind her.