So Enchanting (15 page)
Chapter Fifteen
After such a promising beginning, the evening was quickly heading toward disaster, Hayden thought, following McGowan and Amelie into the drawing room. The blasted Scotsman had taken advantage of Hayden’s momentary amazement at his uncle’s claim of good manners to offer his arm to Amelie. Of course, she hadn’t any choice but to take it.
And what
had
Grey’s bit of chivalry been about, anyway? All through dinner Grey had been variously angry, amused, and contemptuous, only to cap it all by bolting into uncharacteristic gallantry.
had
Grey’s bit of chivalry been about, anyway? All through dinner Grey had been variously angry, amused, and contemptuous, only to cap it all by bolting into uncharacteristic gallantry.
Once in the room, McGowan secured a place next to Amelie on the divan and commenced chatting her up with the comfortable familiarity of an old friend. A very old friend, Hayden thought, dragging an armchair next to Amelie’s unattended flank. The banker had to be on the far side of thirty.
The girl, Violet, materialized. “Pud’ll be late. Ploddy needs me help gettin’ to bed ’counta bein’ whiffed, and Miss Oglethorpe ain’t willin’ to serve,” she announced, and vanished.
Mrs. Walcott took this news without a hint of embarrassment but with a certain degree of irritability. “He will be useless tomorrow,” she muttered.
“You have an interesting staff,” Hayden said conversationally.
“Servants are hard to find. Especially those willing to work at Quod Lamia,” she replied, moving a stack of newspapers from a lumpy-looking armchair and taking a seat.
Grey alone remained standing. Looming, actually. Over Mrs. Walcott. Who, it must be admitted, didn’t appear to notice or, if she did, didn’t particularly mind.
“Colonel Chase’s will might oblige Little Firkians to live in the vicinity of a witch,” she elaborated, “but they refuse to enter service to one. Besides, why work when you can muddle along on credit?”
There was more than a hint of bite in her voice. She was an uncomfortable sort of woman, Hayden decided.
“We have tried importing help, but those few servants sent up from the agencies in Edinburgh rarely last out the month,” Amelie put in.
“Once they discover their employer is a witch they flee?” Grey suggested.
“No. They become bored and flee. Can’t say I blame them,” Mrs. Walcott replied. “Little Firkin is exemplary only for its inhabitants’ xenophobic attitudes. It’s not fear so much as disapproval.”
The conversation was getting a little stuffy as far as Hayden was concerned. “Well, I think it’s wonderful you’re able to make do with the elderly fellow and the girl,” he said, smiling at Amelie. She pinked up delightfully.
“We have Miss Oglethorpe, too,” Amelie said.
“Miss Oglethorpe?”
“She’s the vicar’s sister.” Amelie nodded. “She cooks.”
“Little Firkin has a vicar?” Hayden asked, surprised.
“Oh, no. It’s far too small,” McGowan put in. “The vicar lives in Flood-on-Blot, thirty miles away. It’s the nearest town with a proper church.”
“How ever did you convince the vicar ’s sister to work for you when no one else would?” Hayden asked.
“God’s will,” Mrs. Walcott explained, favoring them with an unexpectedly impish smile. It was a pity she didn’t smile like that more often. She was really quite young, he realized.
“Though I suspect Miss Oglethorpe had a say in it, too,” she continued. “Working for us, she not only gets paid but can also bring salvation into our humble lives.”
Amelie’s brow puckered adorably. “We are not entirely sure how our salvation is to be accomplished, however, as Miss Oglethorpe rarely speaks to us. It is a matter of some debate between us.”
“She prays over the potatoes and calls good enough done,” Mrs. Walcott said.
Hayden couldn’t tell if she was attempting to be amusing or not, and so wasn’t sure how to react. McGowan appeared to be slightly embarrassed, but Amelie didn’t seem aware of anything odd about the conversation. Grey looked highly amused. “You approve of such sophistry?” he asked Mrs. Walcott.
“How can one help but approve of sophistry whose sole goal is to happily delude oneself?”
A shadow crossed Grey’s face. “Delusions are never happy, because they are not real,” he said bluntly.
“Only someone who has never been displeased with his reality would say that,” Mrs. Walcott rejoined with equal force.
Once more the two were engaged in an invisible battle. Hayden regarded them in dismay. Frankly, all the innuendos and undercurrents between the pair were becoming tiresome. He much preferred things to be pleasant. Oh, a bit of wordplay was fine, but all this Sturm und Drang?
Bother.
Worse, Amelie had begun to feel the effect of their contentiousness. The poor darling looked unhappy. He
must
do something.
Bother.
Worse, Amelie had begun to feel the effect of their contentiousness. The poor darling looked unhappy. He
must
do something.
“Tell me, Mrs. Walcott,” he said with determined cheerfulness, “is your Violet here under similar circumstances as Miss Oglethorpe?”
Mrs. Walcott regarded him blankly before breaking into a broad grin. “Good heavens, no. Quite the reverse,” she said. “Violet is Grammy Beadle’s great-granddaughter.”
“Grammy Beadle?”
“The old woman in town the other day,” Amelie put in helpfully.
“Violet is our resident spy,” Mrs. Walcott elaborated. “She was sent here expressly to ferret out the secret of our dark power. The only trouble is, she wasn’t a terribly good ferreter. Always popping up in the shrubbery, hanging upside down from the rooftop to listen in on our conversations, clamoring about in the trees to get a better look inside . . . We were terrified the lass was going to fall on her head and we’d end up being responsible for her care for the rest of her days.”
“Terrified,” Amelie agreed, nodding vigorously. “She’s not very agile.”
“Yet, no matter how many times we confronted her, she refused to desist with her lurking and go home.” Mrs. Walcott paused thoughtfully. “I suppose in that she and Miss Oglethorpe are not so dissimilar.”
“So we hired her,” Amelie finished happily.
“She arrives at first light and goes home when she’s through spying,” Mrs. Walcott said. “And with whatever cleaning we can convince her to do. All in all it works out nicely.”
Grey regarded Mrs. Walcott oddly. “You felt hiring the child was your only choice?”
Mrs. Walcott lifted a shoulder. “It was either that or never see another untrampled pansy again. Violet exhibits an impressive degree of determination. She is convinced that it is only a matter of time before she surprises us in the midst of performing some occult ritual.”
“And will she?” Hayden drawled, hoping to achieve some of his uncle’s sangfroid.
Mrs. Walcott turned her dark, implacable gaze on him. Her smile was very slow, very knowing,
very
enigmatic. A shiver touched the base of his spine.
very
enigmatic. A shiver touched the base of his spine.
“Oh, we’re not so imprudent as that,” she said. “Violet would be off to Beadletown as fast as her skinny little shanks could carry her, and we’d be fresh out of a maid. No, indeed, there’s little chance of
that
happening.”
that
happening.”
Hayden’s smile froze. She
must
be joking. Unless his ears were deceiving him, Mrs. Walcott had just insinuated that if Violet were more clever she might surprise them in some . . . mystical performance. He glanced at his uncle to see his reaction. Grey’s complexion had grown darker.
Oh, dear.
must
be joking. Unless his ears were deceiving him, Mrs. Walcott had just insinuated that if Violet were more clever she might surprise them in some . . . mystical performance. He glanced at his uncle to see his reaction. Grey’s complexion had grown darker.
Oh, dear.
She’d gone too far. Grey had no patience with people who pretended to occult knowledge. Even dabblers incurred his wrath and contempt. If Hayden didn’t do something, Mrs. Walcott might continue teasing and provoke one of Grey’s infamous tongue-lashings, and after that . . . well, there would be little chance of Hayden seeing Amelie in a congenial setting again.
“Pray allow me to explain the reason for my uncle’s purple complexion, Mrs. Walcott,” he blurted out before Grey could snarl something inexcusable. “He’s no sense of humor about the supernatural.”
“You seem to spend a great deal of time apologizing for your uncle, Lord Hayden,” Mrs. Walcott said, turning toward Grey and looking him over carefully, like a suspect bit of beef she was having second thoughts about purchasing. “Do you always?”
“Yes,” Hayden breathed at the same time Amelie gasped, “Fanny! Your manners!”
“Oh, rubbish,” Fanny said, reminding Hayden forcibly of Grey, then, “Fine. Forgive me, Lord Sheffield. I didn’t realize you were the sensitive type. Have a bad taste in your mouth from some experience with the Unknown, have you?”
Grey replied in arctic tones, “I’ve never had
any
experience with the Unknown, madam. I have always known exactly with whom and with what I am dealing. Indeed, I have a reputation of making mincemeat of those pretending to an otherworldly knowledge.
any
experience with the Unknown, madam. I have always known exactly with whom and with what I am dealing. Indeed, I have a reputation of making mincemeat of those pretending to an otherworldly knowledge.
“It is my vocation to bring to justice those defrauded through fakery and tricks. It is my
avocation
to make those who perpetuate cruel hoaxes suffer whilst I do so. And, lest you worry yourself needlessly over my palate, I assure you I find the taste of their humiliation quite delicious.”
avocation
to make those who perpetuate cruel hoaxes suffer whilst I do so. And, lest you worry yourself needlessly over my palate, I assure you I find the taste of their humiliation quite delicious.”
Worse and worse!
Grey sounded like half a madman, and a very nasty sort of madman to boot. Mrs. Walcott might think twice about allowing further acquaintance between Amelie and anyone sharing Grey’s bloodlines, and he couldn’t say he’d blame her. If Amelie were in his care, he would certainly be discriminating about the young men he permitted near her. And while any potential suitor for Amelie’s hand needed his father’s approval before she was twenty-one, Mrs. Walcott had the power to ban anyone from this house.
Grey sounded like half a madman, and a very nasty sort of madman to boot. Mrs. Walcott might think twice about allowing further acquaintance between Amelie and anyone sharing Grey’s bloodlines, and he couldn’t say he’d blame her. If Amelie were in his care, he would certainly be discriminating about the young men he permitted near her. And while any potential suitor for Amelie’s hand needed his father’s approval before she was twenty-one, Mrs. Walcott had the power to ban anyone from this house.
Amelie looked positively stricken, Grey’s smile looked positively feral, and McGowan looked positively ill. Only Mrs. Walcott appeared unaffected, though he could see her hands were clenched so tightly the knucklebones shone through the skin. Her cool gaze traveled lazily over Grey.
“I see,” she said.
“I don’t think you do, Mrs. Walcott,” Hayden said desperately. “My uncle’s zeal for exposing frauds has its roots in a tragic past,” he rushed on, aware of his uncle’s betrayed expression. Grey was an intensely private man.
“My mother was my grandfather ’s only child by his first wife. After my grandmother died, my mother became doubly dear to him. Even later, after Grandfather remarried and had three sons, my mother retained her position as favorite. Not only with my grandfather but with her half brothers, too. Including Grey, who was the youngest.”
Hayden risked a glance at Grey. He was staring at the tips of his boots, his legs stretched out in front of him in a nonchalant attitude. Hayden knew better. He’d thrust his hands in his pockets. Like Mrs. Walcott’s, they would be clenched.
“She died giving stillbirth to my brother when I was but one. It caused the entire family a great deal of pain, but none more than my grandfather. He could not bear to think he’d lost both his wife and his daughter for the rest of his life. He thus began an unhappy quest, seeking reassurance that she still lived on in some other plane and was safe and happy and awaiting him.”
Mrs. Walcott’s expression had not changed, but he thought he detected a flicker of some deeper emotion in her eyes. “Grey was only a boy of seventeen at the time of my mother’s death. He, in particular, felt most keenly the crimes committed against my grandfather, being an unwilling participant at the séances his father forced him to attend.”
“That’s enough, Hayden,” Grey said.
Hayden hesitated. Amelie was regarding him somberly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He went on. “It has made Grey loathe what most of us would consider a harmless evening’s entertainment. Not only did he witness his father’s descent into despair, but he watched without recourse as his father lost most of the family’s fortune to spiritualists and table rappers.”
“How terrible,” Amelie whispered. “I am so sorry, Lord Sheffield.”
“Don’t fret, my dear,” Grey drawled. “After my father ’s death, I made sure I recovered most of it.”
He turned to Hayden. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve made poor Miss Chase weep.” His gaze shifted toward Mrs. Walcott. “Thank heavens Mrs. Walcott is made of sterner stuff. Such a rarity these days, an un-sentimental lady.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Walcott replied evenly. “I’ve found sentiment is best left to those who can afford the luxury.”
“You look to have plenty of luxuries here, Mrs. Walcott,” Grey said. “Foodstuffs from Harrods, Mr. East-man’s new camera, fine wine, a telescope . . . Indeed, a nicely feathered nest. Surely you can spare me one small tear?”
“A gilded cage is nonetheless still a cage.”
Hayden glanced at Amelie to see how she reacted to Mrs. Walcott’s statement. She was nodding in agreement.
The poor darling. The lamb.
How terrible for her. Something must be done.
The poor darling. The lamb.
How terrible for her. Something must be done.
“Are you asking for
my
pity?” Grey was saying to Mrs. Walcott. He sounded flabbergasted.
my
pity?” Grey was saying to Mrs. Walcott. He sounded flabbergasted.
“Surely you can spare me one small tear?” Mrs. Walcott echoed his earlier words. Her tone was not precisely sarcastic, but neither was it sincere. She was a hard woman to read. Harder to understand. Hayden didn’t even want to try.
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