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Come, this was an advance, decided Maidie eagerly. He had used her name at least. ‘Indeed, I wish for nothing better.’
‘What you wish for is quite out of the question,’ Delagarde returned. ‘Surely there must be some other person than myself more properly suited to the task of bringing you out?’
Maidie resolutely shook her head. ‘There is no one. You, Lord Delagarde, are my nearest male relative—other than Shurland—and it is nothing less than your duty.’
‘But I don’t know you from Adam! As for being your nearest male relative, I have no recollection of even the remotest connection with the Hopes.’
She raised her brows. ‘Who said anything about the Hopes? The relationship is on my mother’s side. She was one of the Burloynes.’
‘I have never heard of them,’ said Delagarde, not without relief. ‘Which proves they can have nothing to do with the Delagarde family.’
Maidie clicked her tongue. ‘Did I say so?’
‘You said…’ Delagarde began, and paused, realising that she had set his mind in such a confusion that he could no longer untangle one thing she had said from another. ‘It matters little what you said. The point is—’
‘The point is,’ she cut in, ‘that even if you refuse to recognise the relationship, you cannot escape the obligation.’
Delagarde stared at her with a good deal of suspicion. What new ploy was this? ‘What obligation?’
Maidie shifted in her seat and produced the reticule that had been hidden under her pelisse. Searching within it, she brought forth a folded sheet of yellowed parchment, upon which he glimpsed the remains of a broken seal. Maidie got up and held it out to him.
‘This will explain it.’ As he rose automatically to take it from her and open it out, she added, ‘It is from your mother. You see there the name of Mrs Egginton, to whom it is addressed? She lived nearby and very thoughtfully befriended me, and sent to Lady Delagarde after my father died. You will notice that Lady Delagarde promises to lend me countenance when I should at last come out.’
Delagarde ran his eyes rapidly down the sheet. It was indeed a letter written by his mother to this effect, for he recognised the hand. But what obligation did this constitute?
‘What possible reason could this Egginton woman have for choosing to batten upon my mother?’
‘Your mother was born Lady Dorinda Otterburn, was she not?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Well, then. The Burloyne connection comes through the Otterburns. So you see, we are related.’
Delagarde saw nothing of the sort. The name of Burloyne had no meaning for him, although he had to admit to unfamiliarity with all the ramifications of his mother’s family. But he was not going to waste time finding them out.
‘The relationship,’ he said firmly, ‘if there is any—which I take leave to doubt—must be remote in the extreme.’ He was still studying the letter. ‘What is this offer my mother mentions to send someone to live with you?’
‘But I told you that my duenna is your cousin. Have you not been listening?’
Delagarde found himself contemplating the desirability of boxing her ears. He restrained himself with difficulty, and once more bade himself be calm.
‘Lady Mary, while it may prove to be out of my power—regrettably!—to repudiate some sort of relationship with you, allow me to draw to your attention that this letter is over ten years old. Moreover, my mother has been in her grave these many years.’
‘I know that,’ agreed Maidie patiently, ‘and therefore the obligation devolves upon you.’ She retrieved the letter and pointed to one sentence. ‘You see here that your mother even states that you may be counted upon to aid the project.’
‘Good God, girl, I was barely eighteen at the time!’ He thrust away, throwing up a protective hand as if she might threaten him. ‘Take the wretched thing away before I rip it to shreds! It has no bearing on the case. I knew nothing of the matter then, and I wish to know less of it now. In any event, my circumstances hardly make me a suitable person to lend you countenance. And if you think it escaped me that you mentioned Shurland when you gave me this cock-and-bull tale of being your nearest male relative, you are mistaken. So answer me this, if you please: why cannot he bring you out?’
‘Because he is dead,’ stated Maidie doggedly.
‘He can’t be dead,’ protested Delagarde, pacing in some agitation. ‘He only took over the title a year or so ago.’
‘I meant my great-uncle, the fifth Earl,’ she explained. ‘He was my guardian.’
‘Then why didn’t he arrange for your debut?’
‘Because he was eccentric.’
‘Evidently it runs in the family.’
Maidie merely gazed at him with her wide-eyed look. She folded the letter and replaced it in her reticule. She then reseated herself and looked up at him again. As calmly as if she owned the place! Delagarde eyed her in frustrated silence for a moment or two. He had half a mind to ring for Lowick and have him forcibly remove the wretched female, but he supposed such a course was ineligible. He was, after all, a gentleman. But he was not going to accede to her nonsensical demand.
He resumed his post by the mantelpiece. ‘What about this female who befriended you, the Egginton woman?’
‘She died, too.’
‘She would! Well, the other one, then.’
‘Which other one?’
‘Your duenna. Don’t dare try to kill her off as well, because you have already threatened to bring her to live here.’
For the first time, a smile broke across Maidie’s face, and she laughed. ‘What, poor Worm bring me out? Why, she has no connections, apart from you. She is one of your poor relations. I dare say your mother had it in mind to settle her, poor thing, when she suggested that the Worm came to me.’
Delagarde was so surprised by the change that a smile wrought in her countenance that he forgot to ask for an explanation of this odd name. It was a countenance alight, the dowdiness given off by her unfashionable apparel fading into the background. He did not realise that he was staring until the smile vanished and Maidie’s brows rose again, widening her eyes.
‘Are you thinking that there might be some other female relative I could turn to? I assure you there is not. I am wholly dependent upon you.’
This snapped his attention back to the matter at hand, and he frowned. ‘No, you are not. You have no real claim upon me at all. If all you say is true, then the charge of you falls not upon me, but upon Shurland. And don’t tell me he cannot bring you out, because I know very well he is married.’
Maidie put up her chin. ‘Well, I do tell you so. The plain truth is that Adela cannot abide me, and I cannot abide her.’
‘Is Adela his wife?’
‘Yes, she is, and we quarrelled.’
‘I wonder why I am not surprised.’
‘Besides,’ continued Maidie, unheeding, ‘Adela treated me abominably until I came of age. Only then, as if nothing had happened, she began fawning all over me, and determining to bring me out.’
‘Then why the devil,’ demanded Delagarde, exasperated, ‘have you come to me?’
‘Because,’ stated Maidie in steely tones, ‘I am determined never to marry Eustace Silsoe.’
Delagarde’s head began to reel again. ‘Who in the world is Eustace Silsoe? Why should you marry him if you don’t want to?’
‘He is that hateful woman’s brother. Nothing will do for her but that he should succeed with me, and that is all the reason she has for offering to bring me out.’
‘Just one moment,’ begged Delagarde, sitting down again. ‘Are you telling me that you are trying to involve me in this preposterous and impossible scheme you have concocted, when you have a perfectly acceptable alternative, only so that you can escape a marriage you don’t want?’
‘Yes,’ Maidie said, as if there was nothing at all out of the way.
‘But—’ Words failed him.
‘Adela and Eustace think they can trap me, but I am going to spike their guns,’ she went on in a tone of gritty determination. ‘And you are to help me. I have thought it all out. We will say that you are my trustee, and that I cannot marry without your consent.’
Delagarde rose again. ‘We will say nothing of the kind. The whole enterprise is unnecessary, as well as ridiculous. I will have nothing whatsoever to do with such a masquerade.’
He sounded so determined that Maidie began to fear, for the first time, that her mission might be in vain. Consternation filled her, showing in her face as she got up again and took a hasty step towards him.
‘But you must,’ she uttered desperately. ‘Your mother promised me.’
‘My mother, as I have pointed out, is dead.’
‘Which is why I have come to you.’
Delagarde threw up a warning finger. ‘We are going in circles again.’
Maidie came a step closer, reproach filling the wide-eyed gaze. ‘Lord Delagarde, I never dreamed you would refuse me!’
‘Then you must be off your head—as I would be were I to agree to participate in this monstrous scheme,’ he averred, retreating from her.
‘But I am depending on you!’
‘Well, don’t,’ he advised in a harassed sort of way. ‘You will have to think of something else.’
‘It is such a little thing to do for me.’
‘Little!’
‘And you will be well compensated, I assure you.’
‘For living with you? Impossible! I dare say I should count myself fortunate not to end in Bedlam!’
The door opened, and a glance over his shoulder showed him a welcome interruption. Entering the room was an elderly lady, fashionably attired in a demure version of the season’s new high-waisted gowns, a figured green muslin with half-sleeves overlaid with a light woollen shawl of darker hue. A lace-edged cap like a turban bedecked with ribbons and feathers did not quite conceal her hair, which was dark like Delagarde’s, though streaked through with grey. She held herself well, and Maidie immediately noted a resemblance to the Viscount in her softer features, although she looked to be readier to laugh.
Delagarde seized upon her gratefully, uttering in despairing accents, ‘Aunt Hes, thank God! Kindly inform this lunatic female that I cannot possibly lend her countenance and become her fraudulent trustee.’
‘Gracious, what in the world do you mean?’ demanded this lady in astonished accents, looking from him to Maidie and back again. ‘Who is this? What is she doing here? Is she alone?’
‘My own questions exactly,’ asserted Delagarde, ‘and if you can get any more sense out of her than I did, you may call me a dunderhead.’
Maidie found herself the target of two pairs of eyes, the one popping with questions, the other registering a grim satisfaction. She drew a resolute breath, thrusting down the most unpleasant feelings engendered by Lord Delagarde’s persistent rejection. She refused to be put off. She had come this far. She was not going to be turned away from her purpose now. A sudden thought struck her. If this lady was Delagarde’s aunt, and she was already living in the house, then there must be an end to Delagarde’s scruples.
‘But this is excellent!’ she uttered, with characteristic frankness, moving forward to grasp the elder lady’s hand. ‘You are his aunt?’
‘Great-aunt,’ amended the other, surprise in her voice.
‘And you live here!’ Maidie turned enthusiastically to Delagarde. ‘I don’t understand why you were making such a fuss. What possible objection can there be to my living here in these circumstances?’
‘There is every objection. Besides, my aunt does not reside here. She is here only on a short visit.’ He added on a note of sarcasm, ‘Sorry as I am to disappoint you.’
‘But you may prolong your visit, may you not?’ asked Maidie eagerly of the other lady. ‘I cannot think that the business will take very long. Indeed, I hope it won’t. I am as eager to remove back to the country as Lord Delagarde is to get rid of me. But I won’t go back before I am settled.’
‘You see?’ Delagarde said, crossing the room to take up his post at the mantelpiece again. ‘Mad as a March hare!’ He looked across at Maidie. ‘You are wasting your time. You need not think that my aunt, who is bound to be shocked by your conduct, will support you. She will undoubtedly advise me to send you packing.’
‘I can speak for myself, I thank you, Laurie,’ announced the older woman firmly.
Her attention caught, Maidie’s glance went from Delagarde to his aunt, who was studying her with some interest. She stared back boldly, thinking hard. Delagarde seemed to be adamant, she was making no headway there. But hope was reviving fast. If she could only bring this lady round to her side! She was not, she told herself, a schemer. Not like Adela, not in the true sense of the word. Only what else could she have done? She would have preferred to set up house on her own. It was what she had planned to do, with Worm as chaperon. But that scheme would not do, as she had been brought to realise. She had been obliged to fall back upon convention, and for that she needed help. It had not entered her head that her designated assistant would decline to give that help. Now what was she to do? She made up her mind.
Addressing herself to Delagarde’s aunt, she said, ‘I have not properly introduced myself. I am Lady Mary Hope, daughter of the late John Hope, fourth Earl of Shurland; and great-niece of the late Reginald Hope, fifth Earl of Shurland, and my erstwhile guardian. I am related to Lord Delagarde through my mother, who was a Burloyne.’
‘Have we any relations called Burloyne, Aunt?’ asked Delagarde. ‘You ought to know. She claims it comes through the Otterburns.’
The elder lady nodded. ‘It does, indeed. Although it is some few generations back.’
‘I thought as much. Far too remote to be of consequence.’
Maidie brightened. ‘Are you an Otterburn, then, ma’am?’
‘I am Lady Hester Otterburn. Dorinda—that is, Delagarde’s mother—was my niece.’ To Maidie’s relief, Lady Hester smiled and touched her arm with a friendly hand. ‘What is it you want, child?’
Drawing a breath, Maidie plunged in again. ‘I want Lord Delagarde to arrange my debut.’
For a moment, Lady Hester looked at her with almost as great a blankness as had Delagarde. Then, to Maidie’s bewilderment, she burst out laughing. Lord Delagarde’s reluctance to oblige her was at least comprehensible. But this? She watched as the elder lady betook herself to Delagarde’s lately vacated chair and sat down.
‘Forgive me,’ she uttered, as soon as she could speak, ‘but that is the funniest idea I have heard in years.’
‘I don’t see why,’ Maidie said, pained.
‘Nor do I,’ agreed Delagarde, regarding his aunt with disfavour. ‘What the devil do you mean by it, Aunt Hes?’
Lady Hester bubbled over again. ‘The picture of you, Laurie, in the role of nursemaid to an ingenue. Really, it does not bear imagination! What in the world possessed you to think of such a thing, child? Laurie has no more notion of how to steer a young girl through the social shoals than the man in the moon.’
‘There is no man in the moon,’ Maidie said, vaguely irritated.
‘This is typical,’ commented Delagarde, gesturing towards her. ‘Her whole conversation consists of nonsequitur statements.’ To Maidie, he added, ‘We know there is no man in the moon. What is that to the purpose?’
Maidie tutted. ‘It is a foolish expression, which only shows how little people know of the cosmos.’
Both Lady Hester and Delagarde stared at her. Maidie eyed them both back, frowning. Had she said something out of the way? She knew she had been too little in company to appreciate the niceties of etiquette. Adela was always complaining of her lack of social graces. There had been some spite in that, but perhaps there was more ground for the complaint than Maidie had thought. Well, it mattered little. She had scant interest in society, and if only she could get this business over and done with, she would not be in need of social graces.
‘May we return to the point of this discussion?’ she asked, her tone a trifle frigid.
‘By all means,’ said Lady Hester amiably. ‘Do tell me why you hit upon poor Laurie for the task of introducing you.’
‘It was not by chance, you know.’ Maidie dug once more into her reticule, and brought out the letter, which she gave to Lady Hester. ‘This is from Lady Delagarde.’
‘Thank you. Do sit down, child.’
