My Dear Jenny (15 page)

“I know I owe you a world of thanks,” she began softly. Dom
looked uncomfortable but said nothing, and Jenny suddenly involved herself in
her lacework. Emily continued with her speech, in which she described herself
as the worst fool in creation, praised her rescuer as a hero of Hellenic
proportions, and ended, “Will you be friends again?” Dom hastily assured her
that he had always been her friend, and that it was a pleasure to be of
service. Jenny, watching the whole drama, marveled at the children’s touching
ability to ignore her presence. The sounds in the room were reduced to sighs
and murmurs until Feabers entered to announce the arrival of Peter Teverley.

Dom was immediately on his feet.

“Hullo, Peter. I tried to find you at home this morning, but—”

“I was, if you had only listened when I spoke to you
yesterday, called from London overnight. I have only just returned.” Teverley
took his seat next to Miss Prydd. “And how do you ladies do today?”

Emily blushed, and Jenny answered for both that they did
fairly well.

“My dear—Miss Prydd.” He lingered teasingly over her
name. “Only fair? You look rather to advantage in that gown. Miss Emily,
however, does look a little fagged. Too much partying, child?” The tone was
actually solicitous, but Emily roused herself from her absorption in Domenic’s
buttons to gaze at her former idol with something near to dislike.

“I will leave the details to Dom to explain. Only suffice it
to say that Emily has had a shock today, and is still somewhat taxed by it.”
Dom took Emily’s hand and stroked it soothingly, and she returned her fullest
attention to him. Jenny took this opportunity to murmur, “Forgive me if this
gives you pain, but I fear you have been supplanted by Dom as a hero.”

“What?” Teverley’s tone was equally as light. “Did the boy
save her from the ravages of some monstrous cur?”

Jenny went into peals of laughter, much to the astonishment
of Teverley, and of Dom and Emily, who had not heard his comment. When she had
somewhat regained herself, she said only, “I will leave it for Dom to tell. But
what called you from town? More of the business we discussed the other
afternoon?”

“No, this was merely a trifle to do with the home farm.” But
he explained the situation to her briefly, and again Jenny surprised herself
and him by asking quite pertinent questions. At last, “If you ever tire of
London, ma’am, you would make the most admirable factor for a large estate.”

“What a horrifying notion,” Jenny said playfully.

“Well, ma’am, I had only come for a brief visit—you
can see that I am still in all my dirt! I had best steal my cousin away and
have him regale me with tales of his ‘heroism.’” Teverley rose and gestured to
Domenic, who took leave of his angel reluctantly. “Miss Pellering, I hope to
see you properly recovered shortly. Miss Prydd, my dear—that is, my dear
Miss Prydd, your servant.” And with just that much ceremony he took his leave,
with Domenic behind him, leaving Jenny to wonder if perhaps he was somewhat
discomfited by Domenic’s sudden elevation in Emily’s esteem. Indeed, she
wondered what it could mean that he had come straightaway to their house—rather
than gone to his own to refresh himself from his journey. This argued a degree
of attachment that Teverley certainly had not so far shown for Emily. Aloud, in
any case. “I beg your pardon, love?” Jenny turned to hear Emily’s muttered
comment.

“I only said, Mirabelle Temple had best keep her prattling
to herself. He’s much too good for her.” Emily fixed her gaze stonily on the
firedogs and, despite Jenny’s confusion at this leading statement, would
elucidate no further as to which “he” she meant.

Reflecting later on Emily’s turn of heart, Jenny came to
reflect further on her feelings for Peter Teverley, and was dismayed to find
herself no less, indeed, only more attached to him with each meeting. Which was
purely madness, she told herself sternly. Perhaps, she mused, it was time to
return to Dumsford before she became too attached, and too used to the glamor
of her present life. However unglamorous it might appear to Emily, her mother,
or even her Aunt Winchell, her life in the last few months had encompassed more
excitement than most of the twenty-seven years of her life preceding. She began
to wonder how she could go back to her old life, mending shirts and telling
tales in the nursery, writing invitations to her aunt’s infrequent parties with
her neat, angular hand, and supervising the regular cleaning and repair of the
linens and the polishing of the silver.

“But of course, there is no choice to do else, so I will
find a way.” She frowned at her reflection in the glass. “I must, in all
events, remember that this is only a holiday—a very lovely and
extraordinary one! Perhaps I should stay with Mary a while, if she will have
me, and see if that will better suit me for ordering things at Dumsford.”
Certainly her aunt’s letters had become more and more remarkable for the
complaints that without her Dearest Genia nothing went right about the house,
and it was certainly more than possible that Lord and Lady Graybarr could have
grown fatigued, by this time, with such a long visitor.

“So I shall return to Dumsford and amuse Belle and Betty
with stories of the parties I have been to and the people I have met. After
all, it’s not a
bad
future!” She ignored the twinge of distaste that
came, unbidden. “And think of the things I have done and seen and—besides,
he will probably have Emily in the end, and there’s no use my breaking my heart
over
that
,” she finished illogically. But that thought was too
uncomfortable to support for long, and at last she retired, hoping that sleep
would temporarily distract her stubborn thoughts from Peter Teverley. So she
slept, and dreamt, unfortunately, of Teverley, all the night through.

o0o

Emily continued to behave like an invalid for a day or two,
and then returned to her usual round of gaieties, only languishing
interestingly now and again. Domenic was her most constant companion, and Jenny
wondered what Lady Teeve thought, for their mutual, soft-eyed devotion had
caused some speculation amongst the mammas and dowagers. Peter Teverley seemed
not at all unhappy to have been supplanted, and no one, not Lady Graybarr nor
Emily nor Domenic, and certainly not Jenny, could feel any differently—although
from different motives indeed. There was no time to mention to Emily or her
parents her half-formed resolution to quit their house, and very soon she almost
forgot that she had made it. Things were particularly busy, and Jenny had taken
up a new project: that of trying to interest Mirabelle Temple in some other
young gentleman, since Domenic and Emily were so absorbed in each other.
Strangely, Domenic mentioned each time that he called at Graybarr House that
his mother had sent her kind regards. Jenny privately suspected that there were
strong undertones of sarcasm in this wish, but Emily knew nothing of what had
passed between her friend and Domenic’s mother, Dom himself knew precious
little, and Peter Teverley, who knew the most, was not the person Jenny could
speak to about the matter. She hoped only that, since Lady Teeve had been set
right regarding Emily’s identity, she had found the real Miss Pellering more
acceptable than the supposed one and was willing to let the feud die.

Still, she was surprised when Dom arrived one afternoon at
the end of the week bearing a card from his mother addressed to Emily. Lady
Graybarr smiled vaguely at her daughter and admitted that this was a singular
mark of notice; Domenic only smiled broadly and begged that Emily be quick in
opening the letter. She opened it, reread it, gave a gurgle of laughter, and
passed it along to her mother.

“But my dear, how delightful!” Lady Graybarr said warmly. “You
will go, of course. And dearest Miss Prydd, as well,
of course
,” she
added smoothly.

“Where shall I be going, ma’am?” Jenny raised her head from
stitching.

“Only look, Jen, we’ve been invited to Teeve for a week’s
visit, and a ball will be held at the end of the week’s time! She specially
asks that we come, for dear—” Emily had the grace to blush, and Domenic
turned a violent plum color in response. “Specifically for Domenic’s sake, she
says.” She passed the card along to her friend, who read it, noting that her
name—her own name!—was certainly on the invitation. She smiled
uneasily and passed it back to Emily.

“You will come, won’t you, Emmy? And Jenny too, of course.”

Jenny opened her mouth to say that she had thought of
returning to Dumsford, and perhaps this was the time to do so; but Lady
Graybarr smiled at her daughter and said certainly that she might go—provided
that Miss Prydd went along as well.

“Oh, do, Jenny! It would be such fun!” Emily encouraged.

“But ma’am—” Jenny started.

“My dear Miss Prydd, you would be doing me a favor by
accepting Lady Teeve’s invitation,” Lady Graybarr insisted. “You will
understand why I wish my daughter to have a friend—and an
adult
!—with her so far from home,”
Lady Graybarr said, her voice full of meaning. Emily’s lip trembled briefly,
but she added her pleas, begging Jenny to come for her own sake. “For who else
could I confide in? And who else will tell me when I’m being a terrible
ninnyhammer?”

It was clear that Emily would not be allowed to go unless
she was chaperoned, and with little more than a twinge of uncertainty she added
her acceptance to Emily’s.

“Then, Emily, write your answer to Lady Teeve so that Mr.
Teverley may return with it,” Lady Graybarr said comfortably. Domenic, for his part,
was so delighted with this rapid reply that he would have fetched the writing
table and sharpened Emily’s pen himself, had not both table and pen been at
hand.

When Dom was making his farewells, Jenny hung back a second
before joining the other ladies to go and dress. “May I speak to you for a
moment, dear boy?” She led him back into the library. “Now please, I don’t wish
to be uncivil, but you know there have been passages between your mother and
me, and even now that she knows that I am not Emily I doubt that she likes me
above half—”

“Ali, but Mother promised me that once Peter explained the
situation she saw how wrong she had been and entirely forgave you.”

“Forgave
me
?” But Domenic had not heard her.

“She said that I was to tell you that she specially asked
you to come, so that she might show you how she felt she had wronged you,”
Domenic added.

Jenny found this statement a trifle ambiguous. “Dom, I would
like to ask you something, and you may resent my asking it—indeed, I am
somewhat appalled at myself. But: Do you
believe
what your mother has
said about this?”

Dom shifted a little, looking uncomfortable. “Well, of
course I do,” he finally said. “And Peter will be there, and other friends of
ours, and you
will
have a splendid time! Please come, Jen. You know that
Emily can’t unless you do—”

“So you’d perjure your soul to have me come?” Jenny’s smile
took the sting from her words. “You remind me most forcibly of my cousin
William sometimes, Domenic. I will be Emily’s duenna. I only hope—”

“Yes?”

“Never mind, dear. Go along now, for we really must change.”

“Well, I tell you, Jenny, you really are a first-rater,” he
cried, and left her to call softly after him, “And you are top-o’-the-trees
yourself. Now go!” And she shooed him from the library as she might her cousin
William.

o0o

At dinner Lady Graybarr warmed to the subject of dresses,
for she insisted that both Miss Prydd and her daughter were to have new gowns
for their visit. Jenny protested at this and was roundly told there was nothing
for it. “If you are to go among Lady Teeve and her friends and be a support to
Emmy, which you know well she may need, I insist that we at least help you in
this little thing! After all, Lady Teeve is a stickler, and you will want to be
dressed to the nines, if only to make your visit pleasanter.” Jenny reflected
that this much was true, and finally gave in to Emily’s teasing and Lady
Graybarr’s gentle insistence. “I sense you are a little uneasy about this, my
dear, which I don’t understand myself, as I would have been
aux anges
myself at your age! The least I can do is to help insure that you enjoy this
trip. A very little thing!” Against this, Jenny was certainly not proof, and by
the end of the supper Lord Graybarr had been soundly bored with the talk of
voile,
mousseline de soie
, and
sarcenet.

o0o

The only person who joined in Jenny’s apprehensions was, as
she learned later that evening, Peter Teverley, whom she met at the musicale to
which she had accompanied Emily and the Graybarrs.

“My dear Prydd.” He took her by the elbow and led her away
from her friends. “I can only suppose you have taken leave of your usually
excellent senses.” Jenny blinked at him, too startled by his blunt speech to
make a reply. “I don’t know who concocted this harebrained scheme, but you must
admit it is spectacularly ill-advised.”

Unable to stop herself, now that her wits were somewhat
recovered, Jenny smiled at him and protested, “Spectacularly? Surely not on
such a grand scale! Perhaps a
little
ill-advised—”

“Damn it, Prydd, I am not joking,” Teverley snapped. “I’m
sorry, I have no right to speak to you in such a fashion. But have you no idea
of what my esteemed aunt will do to you—try, at least, to do to you? The
mind reels. She’s a marvelously inventive woman when her ire’s roused, and you,
my very dear Miss Prydd, have roused her ire—spectacularly.”

“And are you to tell me, as Domenic did—or very nearly—that
I was at fault for that, and that Lady Teeve can only forgive
me
for my
rudeness and insufferable ill-conduct?” Jenny’s smile became sharp, a little
dangerous. “If I roused her ire, as you say, it was only because I would not
admit to being Emily—for which you cannot fault me, surely!—and
because I saw, and still can see, no reason to be insulted and bluntly called a
liar without at least defending myself. And rather mildly, too!”