Sixteen

Lillian called early the next day, but Gwendeline had been up for some time. The house was in a minor uproar. The previous evening, Ellen had, as she put it, “given Alphonse what for” in the presence of several of the other servants, then flounced off in a huff. Alphonse, his pride grievously wounded, first threw a tantrum in the kitchen, then proceeded to drown his sorrows in the cooking sherry. John, the footman, and Yvette had alternated as interested spectators or sympathetic confidants, as circumstances warranted. Reeves, though he kept aloof and maintained his dignity, relieved his outraged sensibilities by scolding any servant who came within his reach.

The first Gwendeline knew of these developments was when she sat down to breakfast and found the toast burned, the tea tepid and weak, and the eggs watery. When she leaned back in her chair and looked disgustedly at these unappetizing failures, someone cleared his throat behind her. She turned to discover Reeves hovering by the breakfast-room door. She looked at him inquiringly.

“Yes, miss, I am sorry,” he said. “I fear the eggs are a trifle underdone.”

“Nothing is properly done, Reeves,” Gwendeline replied. “What’s happened to Alphonse? Has Ellen killed him?”

Reeves permitted his expression to show strain. “No, miss. But Alphonse is, er, indisposed this morning. I prevailed upon Yvette to do the cooking temporarily.”

Gwendeline sighed and rose from the table. “How indisposed, Reeves? Does he refuse to work? Or is he really ill?”

“I believe his state is usually known as ‘sleeping it off’ among those conversant with such matters,” answered Miss Brown, who had just appeared in the doorway of the breakfast room. Gwendeline turned to her, surprised, and Miss Brown nodded. “He appears to have drunk everything alcoholic in the kitchens.”

“Do you wish me to dismiss him, Miss Gwendeline?” asked Reeves hopefully.

“No, no. Of course not,” she said. “I’ll take care of this, Reeves. You may go.”

“Very well,” Reeves replied stiffly. He left the room.

Gwendeline looked at Miss Brown. “What do you suggest?”

“Alphonse is upset because Ellen scolded him before everyone. We must smooth that over somehow. I suggest we talk to each of the servants in turn and try to do so.”

Gwendeline agreed, and they spoke first to John, then to Yvette. Though the former was inclined to take Ellen’s side and the latter was a strong partisan of Alphonse, the two ladies finally got them to agree not to mention the matter again. Ellen was a more complicated problem, but after long and earnest discussion, she promised to apologize publicly to Alphonse, declining the honor of marrying him with more tact than before.

Thus, when Alphonse finally appeared in the kitchen once more, this scenario was followed, and he was at least partially placated. It seemed that things were back to normal for a time. Only then could Gwendeline mention her plans for a tea party. Miss Brown was agreeable when consulted, and Alphonse seemed quite his usual self as he described the cakes he would concoct. Gwendeline wrote out a little stack of invitation cards, requesting the presence of her close friends for Tuesday week at tea. Just before Lillian came in, she sent the footman out to deliver them, saving Lillian’s to give herself.

Lillian smiled. “So you’re beginning to entertain, are you?” She settled herself comfortably on the sofa. “You are so lucky, Gwendeline. To have your own house and to be able to give parties here for your friends sounds heavenly.”

“You wouldn’t say so if you’d been here two hours ago.” And she told Lillian of the current domestic upheaval. Lillian was hugely entertained; she loved to hear the exploits of Alphonse. “I am lucky, I know,” Gwendeline continued. “However, my situation is the result of my parents’ deaths and all that followed. Few people would wish to make such an exchange.”

“I’m not so sure,” replied Lillian, putting her chin on her hand.

“What?”

Lillian shook her head. “Oh, of course I wouldn’t, but sometimes I envy you so, Gwendeline.”

“You envy me,” said Gwendeline, surprised.

“Yes,” said Lillian. “You have no worries about your future. You can stay here in this house forever if you like. And you have your own income under your control. I only wish I could be in your position.”

“No worries!” Gwendeline thought of the various doubts and uncertainties that plagued her. “You are the toast of the ton; you’re beautiful, rich, and the most sought-after girl in London. I’m sure you’ll be happy once you find someone you love and marry.”

“What a list of attributes! I should be grateful indeed. By an accident of birth, I’m not ill-looking. I possess a fortune I cannot touch. And I’m to marry in order to be happy. Luck indeed!” And to Gwendeline’s dismay, she burst into tears.

“Lillian!” Gwendeline went to sit beside her friend on the sofa and put an arm around her. “What’s the matter?”

Lillian tried to control her tears. “I’m sorry. I’m not myself this morning.” Gradually, her sobs subsided; she wiped her eyes. “What a fool I am,” she continued when she could speak. She sounded annoyed.

“What’s wrong?” asked Gwendeline. “What can I do?”

“There’s nothing to be done. I spoke with my mother this morning about our evening at the theater. She wished to know whom I had seen, and when she heard that the duke had come by our box, she was so glad.” Lillian’s shoulders drooped. “I ventured to suggest that I didn’t wish to marry the duke, that I didn’t really love him, and she was very upset.”

“Oh dear,” sighed Gwendeline. “Did she scold you?”

“No, no,” Lillian replied. “That would have been bearable. She just looked sad; she nearly wept, Gwendeline! And she spoke of everything she and my father have tried to do for me, how they’ve given me more latitude than many young ladies are ever allowed. She ended by saying that they only wished for my happiness and talking of the necessity for material security and respect in a marriage.” Lillian was close to tears again. “Gwendeline, she made me feel so foolish and ungrateful.”

Gwendeline patted her hand. “I can understand that. But you mustn’t marry because of a sense of obligation, Lillian. It would be a dreadful mistake.”

Lillian shrugged. “I’m not sure of that. The duke is very kind and gentlemanly. I suppose I’d be happy with him, in a mild way. And pleasing my parents so much would also make me happy.”

Gwendeline was torn between a desire to stop Lillian’s seeming capitulation and her promise to keep Major St. Audley’s confidence. “Lillian, you mustn’t say that,” she said finally. “You mustn’t just give up.”

“Gwendeline, you are the only one who doesn’t tell me to take my chance to become a duchess and forget such silly scruples.” She sighed again. “I’m not so sure anymore that the others aren’t right.”

“Don’t do something that you will regret all your life,” cried Gwendeline.

Lillian laughed. “Well, he hasn’t asked me yet, has he? Perhaps he won’t, and my problems will be solved. At any rate, you can see now why I envy you.”

Gwendeline looked at her worriedly. “Lillian,” she began.

But the other girl interrupted. “Enough maundering. Let’s hear some of your woes instead.” She smiled at Gwendeline with an attempt at gaiety.

“But I wish to tell you…”

“No,” Lillian broke in, “nothing more about me. I won’t hear it. Tell me more about Alphonse and his tantrum.”

“You are impossible.”

“I?” replied Lillian, with mock astonishment. “You can say this to me after spending an evening with Lady Wanley?”

Gwendeline laughed. “I was so frightened the entire evening that I would do something to earn her displeasure.”

“Poor Lord Wanley! I never felt such sympathy for him before. I begin to admire his persistent interest in poetry. I’m not sure I could sustain it in the face of Lady Wanley’s extreme displeasure.”

“I couldn’t, I know. Think of the rows! I was also surprised to find how much Lord Wanley knows about Shakespeare.”

“There’s more to the man than I ever realized.” Lillian looked very wise. “They say it is only in adversity that true character is revealed.”

Gwendeline giggled. “Only think what a mother-in-law she would be.”

Lillian fell back on the sofa in horror. “Don’t mention it, I beg you. It’s one of my recurring nightmares. My father tells me they have a huge moldering castle in Ireland, and I dream of being trapped there with the two of them—he reading poetry all day and she lecturing us both on our sins.”

This ridiculous picture sent Gwendeline into peals of laughter. “And Mr. Devlin,” she gasped. “Don’t forget him. I daresay he would come to live with you.”

“Indeed,” cried Lillian. “Mr. Devlin sitting in a corner of the castle in silent gloom for years at a time.” They collapsed in laughter.

Both girls felt better after this. The air seemed to have cleared, and their mood lightened. Reeves brought in some tea, and they chatted easily over it.

“And so, you have no problems,” Lillian said lightly some time later. “You are free as the air.”

“I never pretended to be without worries,” she answered. “No one can say that, I think. In fact, just yesterday I had a strange and rather unpleasant encounter with Adele Greene.”

“She’s been insufferable since her exalted engagement. I’m not surprised.”

“This was rather more than rudeness,” said Gwendeline, and she related the happenings of the previous morning.

Lillian was silent for several moments when Gwendeline had finished. She looked very thoughtful. Finally, she said, “I don’t wish to pry, Gwendeline, and you must stop me if you feel I’m doing so.” She hesitated. “But are you…do you care for Lord Merryn?”

Gwendeline looked away.“Why do you ask?”

“Please don’t take it amiss. It’s just that I’ve noticed something in your tone when you speak of him.”

Gwendeline gazed at the floor, trying to decide whether to tell Lillian the truth. “I do care for him,” she said at last. “Very much.”

Lillian nodded sympathetically.

“Does everyone know it then?” continued Gwendeline miserably. “Oh, I thought I had hidden my feelings so well.”

“No one else can have noticed. We’ve been so much together and have become, I think, close friends.” Lillian squeezed Gwendeline’s hand. “You needn’t worry about gossip.”

Gwendeline returned the squeeze gratefully. “But perhaps Adele has observed something,” she said. “She may have come because of that.”

“She’s not especially sensitive to the feelings of others. I’m sure it was that horrid letter. Who can have sent it?”

Gwendeline shrugged.

“How people can twist the truth. It’s horrid. And for her to say that Lord Merryn cannot break off this engagement. Strange. If one could only ask him about it.”

“You wouldn’t!” exclaimed Gwendeline.

“No, no, it’s clearly impossible,” said Lillian. “I only wish one could. So many things could be cleared up easily if one could only ask the people involved.”

Gwendeline remained silent. Things did not seem so simple to her, but she hesitated to tell Lillian of her new worry. Lillian believed Lord Merryn’s story of a group of benefactors and thought Gwendeline’s income wholly secure. Just as Gwendeline feared to tell Miss Brown the truth, so she kept it from her other friend.

“But we must do something about Adele,” Lillian continued. “She’s clearly wrong for him in any case.”

“There is no acceptable way of…”

“Nonsense,” said Lillian. “I’m sure I shall think of something. I’m determined that you will be happy.”

Gwendeline smiled; this remark was so similar to one she’d made to herself about Lillian. “Perhaps we’ll both be happy,” she replied. “Who knows what will happen?”

“That’s the spirit. We won’t give up. You’ve given me courage, Gwendeline. I’m determined we will win out. Let’s plot something.”

Gwendeline laughed. “What?”

“Something mildly wicked. Think!”

“I’m no good at plotting. I’ll leave it to you.”

Lillian looked disgusted. “Who is the faint heart now? Well, I’ll think of something. Wait and see.” For the rest of her visit Lillian outlined more and more outrageous schemes for putting things right. Gwendeline had never laughed so much. But as she was leaving, Lillian was serious for a moment. “I meant what I said,” she told Gwendeline, “in spite of my joking. I’ll think of something.”

“I hope you do,” answered Gwendeline, “something reasonable.”

Lillian grinned at her and took her leave.

Gwendeline worried a little about what Lillian might do through luncheon and an afternoon linen-sorting session with Miss Brown. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she several times failed to hear Miss Brown’s count of their supplies. The fourth time Miss Brown became a bit annoyed as she repeated “Gwendeline, five large tablecloths.”

“What?” asked Gwendeline, starting guiltily.

Miss Brown put her hands on her hips. “Gwendeline, I can easily get Ellen or one of the other servants to help me with this. There’s no reason for you to stay to write the list when you’re preoccupied with other things.”

“No,” answered Gwendeline. “I want to help, and to know just how much of everything we have. Five napkins, you said?”

“No, I did not. I said five large tablecloths. If I had said five napkins, we’d be woefully short.”

Gwendeline looked at her list and wrote “five large tablecloths” at the bottom. “There,” she said. “I have it. I’ll pay attention now, Brown, I promise.”

At this moment, Reeves entered the linen room, effectively filling the remaining space. “A Mr. and Mrs. Ames have called, Miss Gwendeline,” he said. “Shall I tell them you’re not in?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Ames!” exclaimed both ladies.

“No indeed, Reeves, tell them we’ll be down directly,” said Gwendeline. “And take some refreshment to the drawing room.” They hurried to their respective bedrooms to tidy up.

The two ladies were soon downstairs exchanging cordial greetings with the older couple. “But my dear,” said Mrs. Ames, “why didn’t you tell us you were coming to London? When did you arrive? We had no idea. And we’ve met several people who know you. It is all very mysterious.”

“I came to Penwyn from London actually. But I didn’t want to think of… That is, I wanted to get away from town and the season for a rest.”

“Yes, but why not even mention all that?” replied Mrs. Ames wonderingly. “Even when we were preparing to come to town.”

“I must apologize for what looks like deception. But I was rather upset and…” Gwendeline looked to Miss Brown for help.

“Of course,” Mr. Ames put in. “No wish to rake over all the parties and such when you’re exhausted. Tire yourself all over again! Don’t even want to think of ’em. Perfectly understandable to me, I’m nearly fagged myself after only two weeks in town.” He grinned at Gwendeline. “I’ve been dragged from one end of Mayfair to the other since I arrived. Hardly had a moment to myself.” He shook his head.

Gwendeline laughed. “I hope you will come to tea?”

“We shall be delighted,” answered Mrs. Ames. “Carleton is exaggerating to roast me, as usual. He’d be very disappointed if we never went out in town.” She leaned forward a bit in her chair. “Tell me, my dear, is it really true that this novel everyone is talking of concerns your family?”

Gwendeline blushed a little as she nodded.

Mrs. Ames was highly gratified. “How romantic!” she exclaimed. “To have a novel written about one’s own parents. My parents were frightfully dull.”

“Trash,” snorted Mr. Ames. “These women have no business being published and spreading their tales about. Half of it untrue and the rest imaginary; I call it an inexcusable invasion of privacy. You should take them to court, Gwendeline. Ruins the minds of half the country besides.”

“Oh, Carleton,” said his wife. “You’re just jealous of all the attention the novelists receive. You’d be very pleased if your paintings created such a sensation.”

“Nonsense,” he responded indignantly. “I’ve no desire to be admired by those without knowledge or taste!”

“Lady Merryn is a good friend of mine,” said Gwendeline. “She is really quite talented. She’s also coming to tea next week.”

“Splendid!” answered Mrs. Ames. “I shall look forward to meeting her.”

Gwendeline waited nervously for Mr. Ames’s reaction. He was glowering at her. “Lady Merryn admires your work so much, Mr. Ames,” she added. “She begged me to introduce her, and I couldn’t refuse. If you like, I can also ask some particular friend of yours. Someone for you to talk to. Perhaps Mr. Woodley?”

“Woodley! That leech! Trying to worm his way into the company of really talented men where he’s never wanted. Wouldn’t be in the same house with him.”

“I’m sorry,” said Gwendeline. “I thought he was a friend of yours. He always speaks as if…”

“Speaks!” interrupted Mr. Ames. “I daresay he speaks as if we were brothers. He lives on his talk. Blustering man-milliner.”

“We shall certainly not invite him then,” said Miss Brown. “But I must agree with Gwendeline; Lady Merryn is a charming woman and not at all like Mr. Woodley.”

“Of course she’s not,” said Mrs. Ames. “And we’ll be delighted to meet her here.” She went on before her husband could speak again. “Tell me, Gwendeline, have you seen any paintings since you returned to London?” Her expression was serious, but her eyes twinkled.

“No. I haven’t had time.”

“Time!” exclaimed Mr. Ames. “What other nonsense have you had time for, I wonder? Novel reading, I suppose.”

“You’re right,” put in Gwendeline to keep the conversation from turning back to Lady Merryn. “I’d certainly like to see some paintings. I must arrange to go.”

“I’ll take you,” said Mr. Ames. “You won’t know which to admire.”

“That would be most kind of you. I know I would learn a great deal.”

Mr. Ames looked at her sidelong. “You’re all very clever, aren’t you? Think you’ve maneuvered me. Got me on my favorite subject and so on.” He smiled at all the ladies. “Well, I don’t mind, but just don’t think you’re getting away with anything.” Gwendeline and Miss Brown returned his smile a bit sheepishly; his wife merely looked complacent.

Their conversation turned to more general topics. Mrs. Ames described some of the grand entertainments she’d attended, and they discovered a few mutual acquaintances. Mr. Ames had a new store of anecdotes about his fellow artists. He amused Gwendeline by thoroughly deflating Mr. Woodley’s pretensions to friendship with several famous men, and Gwendeline thought with guilty amusement of his continually deferred promises to introduce Lady Merryn to these personages. It turned out to be a delightful afternoon, and the four of them vowed to meet again before Gwendeline’s tea, if it could be managed.

Gwendeline arranged to view pictures with Mr. Ames the next day. He had quite a list of things she must see, and she planned to devote the whole afternoon to them. Unfortunately, both she and Mrs. Ames had dinner engagements for that evening, so they couldn’t go on to dinner.

The Ameses took their leave, and Gwendeline and Miss Brown sat back in their chairs. “It turned out well,” said Gwendeline. “I was afraid they’d be angry with me.”

“They’re too kind to have been really angry. But they were puzzled, no doubt. However, all is well now. Mr. Ames is such a charming man.”

Gwendeline smiled. “I look forward to our expedition.”

“You’ll see a great many pictures,” replied the older woman with some amusement. “I hope you’ll be attentive and learn something.”

“I’ll have no choice.”

They laughed together and went back to their work. It took rather longer than they expected, so that they had a hurried tea and went directly up to dress for dinner. They were invited to the Everlys’ for the evening, and Lillian had asked Gwendeline to come early to meet some friends of hers visiting from the country.

The evening went well, though Gwendeline felt a little ill at ease with Lillian’s parents at first. She was conscious of all that she’d heard of their plans for their daughter and of Lillian’s worries. But they were kind and charming, and she soon felt comfortable. Their guests were also compatible people, and the party was pleasant. They had some music after dinner; Lillian sang and played, as did the two daughters of their visitors. This was followed by a cheerfully noisy game of loo. Gwendeline returned home in good spirits, tired but content.

Reeves let them in, and Gwendeline started directly up to her bedchamber. She paused on the stairs, however, when the butler addressed her.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Gwendeline,” he said, “but two letters were delivered by hand while you were out. I thought you would wish to have them as soon as possible.” He held out two envelopes to her.

“Thank you, Reeves,” she said as she took them. She continued up to her room, saying an affectionate good night to Miss Brown as they separated.

She didn’t open the letters immediately but undressed and made ready for bed. When she was settled, propped up against the pillows in her nightgown, she took them up again. If either required an answer, she thought, it would just have to wait until morning.

The first envelope contained a note from Lord Merryn. Gwendeline’s heart beat faster when she saw the signature and read his request to call tomorrow to speak with her. For some minutes, she lay back against her pillows wondering what he wanted to say and thinking of him dreamily. Finally, she reached for the other letter and pulled the single sheet of paper from the envelope. The note, printed in rough block letters and unsigned, said, “You will be found out. You cannot escape.”

Gwendeline got out of bed and threw it into the fire. She watched it burn, then climbed back under the covers, trembling. Who would send her such a vile thing? She remembered the letter Adele Greene had brought with her, and her shock began to develop into real fear. Was the same person the author of both notes? Who could be waging this anonymous campaign against her? And why?