Maggie MacKeever (20 page)

Ermyntrude made no demur. To her sister’s restless company, she preferred her own unhappy thoughts. How unkind it was of everyone to interfere with her romance. At this rate, by the time Ermyntrude saw St. Erth again, he would have forgotten her altogether, and she would have to start over again from scratch. But her papa wouldn’t let her do so. Ermyntrude saw that she was destined to remain on the shelf. She decided that before she became an ape-leader, she would put a period to her own existence. Then they would all regret that they had not appreciated her more when she was alive. Tabby and her papa and St. Erth. Even Drusilla would be sorry. As for Ermyntrude’s various suitors, they must all be cast into the dumps.

Her spirits raised by these reflections, Ermyntrude smoothed the skirt of her fashionable chemise dress, which was made of muslin, fitted to the bosom, with a lace frill round the throat and fluting round the sleeves and hem. Her papa, stricken with remorse, would give her the grandest funeral Brighton had ever seen. She would look especially lovely, her golden hair arranged becomingly, her gown the one Tabby had filched and maligned. Everyone would lament the loss of a maiden so lovely and so young. The gentlemen would flock around the coffin, displaying gratifying grief. St. Erth would realize what ecstasy could have been his—alas, too late. As for poor Osbert, most devoted of her swains—why, he would fling himself upon the coffin and clasp her cold corpse to his breast. Of course, he would never love again, would mourn her all his days, would shudder even to so much as look at another female.

Ermyntrude frowned. Perhaps she should leave a list of instructions. It would be just like her family to bury her in the wrong dress.

Drusilla burst into the room then. She held a letter in her hand. “Tabby
has
been here!” she cried. “But she isn’t now. This was on her pillow, and all her things are gone!”

“Gone?” Ermyntrude reached out. “Let me see that, Dm!”

Drusilla snatched away the letter. “It’s addressed to Pa. We can’t go around reading his letters, Ermy! You know we can’t.”

But Ermyntrude had put two and two together. She abandoned the window seat to chase her sister round the room. “You silly twit! Let me have that letter, do! Who has a better right to read it? ‘Twas
my
beau Tabby was making sheep’s eyes at!”

Drusilla placed a zebrawood sofa between her sister and herself. “Have you gone off your hinges? Tabby did nothing of the sort!”

“Oh, yes, she did!” Ermyntrude ducked around the sofa and grabbed for the letter. “She was racketing around with Osbert, was she not? For all we know, she may even have set her bonnet at St. Erth. Indeed, I would wager on it! I knew there was something havey-cavey about her ever since she filched my gown.” Drusilla had backed into a corner. Ermyntrude pounced. “Aha!”

Sir Geoffrey paused in the doorway, he was feeling a trifle set-upon in his own right, and had therefore this day repaired to an establishment on the seafront where highly scented steam baths and shampoos were offered as a cure. He had submitted to being steamed till his brains whirled, and then vigorously plummeted and slapped. The treatment had even made him feel a little better, in that it had distracted him from his woes. Unfortunately, those woes were apparently lurking in ambush to beset him the instant he stepped into his house. “What the
deuce is
going on here?” he inquired. “Unhand your sister, Ermyntrude! I thought I told you already that it’s not the thing for young women to go about making wagers. And it’s definitely not the thing for you to speak unkindly of Tabby. She has tried very hard to do her best for us. If she has not succeeded, it is not her fault, and it is very shabby in you to be so unkind.”

Ermyntrude bit her lip in vexation. “Pa, you don’t understand. Tabby’s taken French leave!”

Sir Geoffrey frowned at his elder daughter, toward whom he was beginning to feel something grievously akin to dislike. “Have you been ripping up at her?” he asked. “Because, Ermyntrude, that’s not what I can like.”

“Of all the unjust things to say!” Ermyntrude took an agitated turn around the room. “If anyone’s been mistreated, it’s me, because I’m not allowed out of the house. But since you will not believe me, here!” She thrust Tabby’s letter under her papa’s nose.

Sir Geoffrey took it with great reluctance. He had developed a strong aversion to letter writing of late. This was not Mrs. Quarles’s handwriting or Augusta’s. He opened the epistle and began to read.

Anxiously, Drusilla and Ermyntrude watched their papa, tried without success to read his silently moving lips. “Love letters?” he said aloud. “Surely she wouldn’t stoop to that!”

“Love letters!” echoed Ermyntrude. “From whom? Not St. Erth! I tell you, if Tabby has gone off and eloped with St. Erth, I
shall
blow my brains out!”

“That’s all fine and good,” snapped Drusilla, “but it’s
my
dog she took with her! Are you going to tell us what she wrote you, Pa, or not?”

Sir Geoffrey was still struggling with the intimation that Mrs. Quarles had wished to make the whole world privy to the impassioned outpourings of his pen. “The ingratitude!” he said. “What, puss? Oh, the letter! I don’t see why you may not read it. Perhaps you may tell me what all this is about!’’

Drusilla hoped she might do so. She took the letter from her papa’s hand. “ ‘You and your family have been all kindness, and I have grown attached to you all. I cannot bear that you should set your faces against me, yet know that you must be disappointed and shocked. I most earnestly conjure you to believe that all is not as it seems! You will understand that I have no choice but to leave you. It distresses me beyond measure to take this step; I hesitated in forming my decision, but nothing less will answer the purpose. At least I may assure you that certain letters of a compromising character will not reach the public eye. Mrs. Quarles can no longer threaten you with that. Pray consider this small act a token of my esteem, and believe me your grateful and devoted Tabby.’ ” Drusilla finished reading, and let the letter fall.

There was a brief silence in the drawing room, as its various inhabitants sough surreptitiously to dry their eyes. Drusilla was first to recover from the moving letter that she’d just read aloud. “What’s set Tabby to acting like a loony, that’s what I’d like to know!”

“Tabby?” came a voice from the doorway, and Mr. Philpotts walked into the room. “Forgive me for not having myself announced. There seems to be a bit of a contretemps below stairs.” His anxious gaze rested on Ermyntrude. “Some young woman has gone off in a carriage. I thought you had eloped.”

“Not me. Tabby!” Ermyntrude collapsed onto the window seat. “The question is, with whom!”

Sir Geoffrey was less concerned with whom than why. “It makes no sense!” said he. “Why should we turn our faces against Tabby? She’s quite one of the family!”

“Yes,” agreed Drusilla. “If we can put up with Ermyntrude, I don’t see why we should cavil at anything Tabby might think of. Except that it was very bad of her to take my dog.”

Mr. Philpotts was in need of further enlightenment. He picked up the letter that Drusilla had let fall. Under more ordinary circumstances he would not have made so bold as to read it, but he was concerned. “Ah!” he said, upon scanning the letter’s contents. “I see. Miss Minchin fears she has sullied her reputation and does not wish to involve you in any notoriety—even thought it was on your behalf that she did so, Ermy! And so you meant her to, when you set out to compromise St. Erth. But what is this about love letters? I don’t understand.”

Suddenly, Drusilla did. “Tabby pinched them!” she cried. “She must have snuck them right out from under that female’s nose! Good for her! How could she think we could condemn her, after that? She didn’t need to run away!”

“If she
did
run away!” said Ermyntrude, despondent to think that her most devoted suitor had just read her a scold. “Perhaps it had nothing to do with us at all. Perhaps it is”— she looked wise—“an unhappy love affair!”

Drusilla and Sir Geoffrey both thought of a certain recent conversation concerning Lady Grey’s rakehell brother. “Ah!” they sighed. Then Sir Geoffrey frowned. “She said she’d sullied her reputation. If that reprobate has trifled with Tabby, damned if I shan’t call him out!”

Osbert interrupted these speculations. “Do you mean to let Miss Minchin go?”

“Let her go?” echoed Sir Geoffrey, with a wistful thought of how smoothly, under Tabby’s guidance, his household had run. “Of course not! That is, we wouldn’t if she’d given us a choice. Poor puss, all alone in the world—yes, and without a penny, because I forgot to pay her her wage.”

“Pa!” Ermyntrude’s excellent imagination was at work. “All manner of terrible things might happen to her. We must get her back!”

“Yes!” added Drusilla. “And Lambchop!”

“She can’t have gone far without money,” said Sir Geoffrey. “Perhaps if we were to instigate a search—”

Osbert cleared his throat. “I believe your servants may know something about the business. There was a discussion to that effect underway when I arrived at your front door.’’

Sir Geoffrey was not slow to act on this suggestion. Within moments an unhappy-looking footman was undergoing an inquisition in the drawing room. “How was I to know anything was amiss?” he protested. “It’s not for me to tell the family they may not go out.’’

Sir Geoffrey sought to soothe the footman’s wounded feelings. “I’m sure you did just what you ought! What
did
you do, by the way?”

The footman had done precious little, it turned out— save to carry Tabby’s shabby portmanteau out to a waiting carriage. But his audience was clearly disappointed by this admission, and he elaborated on his tale. “There was a gentleman waiting within,” he added, with the satisfaction of one who knows he has dropped a bombshell.

“A gentleman!” Ermyntrude so far forgot herself as to grasp the footman and give him a good shake. “What did he look like?”

“A gentleman!” responded the poor footman, taken quite aback by this familiarity. “I didn’t get a good look at him, Miss Ermyntrude. But I did hear him say as he would take her to London!”

“London!” Ermyntrude released the footman. “I was right; she did elope!”

“Adone-do!” said Sir Geoffrey impatiently. “You have elopements on the brain. I read her letter; it’s clear as anything that she’s run away. If she had a friend to help her, so much the better, because there is less chance that she may come to harm.” He glowered at the footman. “How long ago was this, man?”

The footman felt absurdly guilty. “Why, sir, not an hour past.”

“An hour!” Sir Geoffrey brightened. Perhaps chaos might still be held at bay. “We may still catch up with them on the London road and coax her to come home.”

“We’ll take my carriage. My team’s already harnessed.” Osbert followed Sir Geoffrey into the hall. Left alone with the footman, Ermyntrude and Drusilla exchanged glances. “Damned if I’ll be left behind!” cried Ermyntrude; whereupon the young ladies dashed together through the door.

Chapter Twenty-two

Elphinstone House had not seen the end of contretemps yet this day. Next to arrive on the front doorstep was Lady Grey. She was not so haggard as she thought herself, although her green eyes had lost some of their sparkle and her chestnut hair its sheen. No similar fault could be found in her costume: sprigged muslin walking dress; pelisse, open on the side and trimmed with lace; conversation bonnet, kid gloves, pretty boots. Her driver assisted her to alight from her carriage. She reached into her large lozenge-shaped reticule and drew out her vinaigrette. Then she squared her shoulders and set out up the front walk.

“You are surprised to see me here, Geoffrey!” she said in none-too-steady tones. “Yes, and so you should be! You
do
deserve to be condemned for your conduct; you should have known better than to do what you did! I cannot describe to you the way I felt when I read that woman’s note, realized that she had given you—”

Gus had recourse to her vinaigrette. “The suggestion was enough to bring on one of my bad turns! I tried very hard to set my face most sternly against you, Geoffrey. I was distressed beyond measure—I felt as though my heart must break.”

Sir Geoffrey’s footman was also distressed. Not only had he endured a rare trimming from Sir Geoffrey’s superior valet, Sir Geoffrey had also called him to task. Now here was Lady Grey on the doorstep, talking to herself. It was all most disconcerting.

A good footman did not react to the vagaries of his superiors. “The family,” he said woodenly, “is not at home.”

“Oh!” Gus had not considered that her errand might be for naught. “Where have they gone? It is imperative that I speak with Sir Geoffrey without delay.”

“As to that, milady—” With a startled expression, the footman broke off. Lady Grey turned, impatient to know what the man was goggling at. Then she also stared.

A woman was coming up the sidewalk. Certainly she was worthy of anyone’s attention in her military-style cherry spencer and her pink-striped neck scarf; her pretty muslin walking dress worn over a yellow slip and her yellow boots. However, it was not the woman’s costume that had caught the attention of her audience. “Lawks!” said the footman unenthusiastically. “ ‘Tis Miss Drusilla’s hound!”

“So it is,” agreed Margot, as she and Lambchop came to a panting halt. “And he has very nearly pulled my arm from its socket in her eagerness to be home. My larder, you see, he has already cleaned out! Do take the leash while I have a word with your master, there’s a good fellow.”

The footman would have liked to have so pretty a lady think well of him; unfortunately, it was not to be. For one thing, as he had already told the other lady, Sir Geoffrey was not in. For another, he had refused to have anything to do with Lambchop since the beast had bitten him, despite the assurances of the entire household that it had been meant in fun. As he explained these things, the footman fell back several paces. Lambchop collapsed across the threshold and wagged his tail.

“Not at home!” echoed Margot. “Now here’s a pretty pickle. Perhaps you might tell me where he’s taken himself to, because it is very important that I speak with him before much more time has passed.”