скачать книгу бесплатно
To Whom It May Concern:
Miss Daventry arrived to be my companion on Fridayevening. After raking down my stepson, she returned to Bristolon Saturday morning.
Yours etc., etc.
As a reference, it had limitations, she acknowledged, re- pinning her hair. And as a position, this must be a record: dismissed before she had begun. Her hair as neat as she could make it, she turned back to Miss Trentham.
‘Are you ready?’ asked the young woman. ‘It will be famous having you here, you know. Leave your bonnet. One of the maids will take it up to your bedchamber.’
Christy left the bonnet and followed Miss Trentham from the room. ‘Ah, Miss Trentham, I believe Lady Braybrook said that she did not want a companion. I dare say I shall be dispatched back to Bristol tomorrow.’
Leading the way along the corridor, Miss Trentham shook her head so the black curls bounced. ‘Oh, pooh! Of course you won’t. That is what is so particularly annoying about Julian—he persuades people to do precisely as he says! Even Mama. And he is always so…so insufferably certain that he knows what is best. Mama says he means well, but if you were to ask me, he’s a tyrant!’
‘Explain, if you please, Julian.’ There was a distinct bite in Serena’s voice.
Julian had wheeled her into a small parlour off the hall. ‘A ploy,’ he said, closing the door and turning to face her. ‘The companion part is a blind. She’s actually here to keep Lissy in order.’ Bringing up a chair for himself, he explained his reasoning.
Serena’s eyebrows rose. She was silent for a moment, thinking it over, and he waited.
‘I see,’ she said eventually. And he had the sneaking suspicion that she did see. Every single machination anyway. He hoped to hell she couldn’t see the inexplicable attraction Miss Daventry held for him. Not that it mattered, because he wasn’t going to do anything about it.
‘I suppose she’s dowdy enough for a companion-governess,’ said Serena thoughtfully.
Dowdy? ‘Nothing of the sort,’ he said stiffly. ‘She is still in mourning for her mother, Serena!’
Amusement crept around Serena’s eyes and mouth. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I see. Well, I dare say some of my own mourning garb can be altered to fit her. It will certainly give Lissy pause for thought.’
‘She stays, then?’ What the hell was that jolt of relief in his midriff?
Serena blinked. ‘Oh, I think so, dear. I’m sure she will suit admirably. She’s not at all mealy-mouthed, is she?’
‘No.’ Along with meek, that was the last adjective he’d use to describe Miss Christiana Daventry.
Christy tried not to let her shock show. Lit with more candles than she would have used in a year, the small dining parlour was somewhat larger than the entire ground floor of the Christmas Steps house. And, since these were wax candles, without the reek of tallow.
‘Ah, here they are.’ Lady Braybrook was already seated at a circular table with his lordship and Matthew, who both rose politely.
‘Come and sit beside me, Miss Daventry,’ said Lady Braybrook. ‘I apologise for my lack of tact earlier. You must have thought yourself in a perfect madhouse! Unfortunately Braybrook did not see fit to apprise me of his intentions.’ She glared at her stepson, who had strolled around the table to pull out a chair for Christy.
Christy managed to look demure and murmured her thanks as she seated herself. There was no faulting his lordship’s manners, even if his high-handed assurance left a great deal to be desired.
‘I beg your pardon, Serena,’ said Lord Braybrook, sitting down again.
Christy doubted the sincerity of his lordship’s contrition. And she observed that, far from kicking puppies, his lordship was obviously very fond of dogs. The setter, Juno, lay as close as possible to her master’s chair, chin resting on a stretcher.
‘Mama,’ said Miss Trentham, ‘Miss Daventry is Mr Daventry’s sister!’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Should I send him a note to say she is here?’
Christy caught Lord Braybrook’s eye, and said, ‘How kind, Miss Trentham. On accepting his lordship’s offer, I took the liberty of writing to Harry myself.’ Spurred on by malice aforethought, she added, ‘I would be most grateful if you were to inform him that I have returned to Bristol and will write again soon.’
An odd choking sound came from Lady Braybrook. Christy turned quickly and her ladyship patted her lips with her napkin. Laughing grey eyes met hers.
‘No, no, Miss Daventry. That will not be necessary. Now Braybrook has explained all the particulars, I am delighted to have you here.’ She glanced at her daughter. ‘Yes, Lissy, Julian explained the connection. A kind thought to assist Miss Daventry in this way. And so pleasant for me.’
Miss Trentham brightened. ‘Oh, famous! You see, Miss Daventry—I told you Julian would talk Mama around. I’m sure Mr Daventry will come to see you as soon as may be.’
Christy had not the least doubt of that. His lordship was one of those annoying persons who always contrived to achieve their ends.
Lord Braybrook met her gaze blandly. ‘Naturally, ma’am, when he does so, you must take a morning or afternoon off to spend with him. I dare say you have not met for some time.’
‘No,’ said Christy. ‘We have not.’ Not since Mama’s funeral.
It had rained unrelentingly. And they had stood there, soaked to the skin, wondering if he would come. If he would have the decency…well, she had wondered. Harry had thought it unlikely. Indeed, unnecessary.
Don’t be a peagoose, Christy. I dare say he has much tooccupy him.
She would never forgive Alcaston for that. Never. Not to come to the funeral. Nor send so much as a wreath. Discretion, of course. That had been his reason for not attending little Sarah’s funeral all those years ago…but she had foolishly thought that he would attend Mama’s funeral. She shivered. If anything further had been needed to drive home the necessity of standing alone, that had been it.
‘Miss Daventry?’
Horrified, she realised that his lordship was speaking to her and that she had been staring into space.
The bright eyes were focused on her, faintly frowning.
‘I beg your pardon, my lord. I was woolgathering.’
Heat pricked behind her eyes, but she kept her voice steady. He was still watching her, with eyes that peeled away too many defences.
‘I fancy Miss Daventry is very tired, Julian,’ said Lady Braybrook. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. Your room will be prepared by the time you have finished your supper and you may go to bed. We need not arrange anything tonight. Do have some chicken soup. And, Lissy, please pass the rolls to Miss Daventry.’
As she helped herself to the soup and accepted a roll, Christy wondered what sort of establishment she had landed in. A greater contrast with her previous live-in situation could not be imagined. A sense of dislocation niggled at her. Rather than treating the governess-companion as a lesser being, Lady Braybrook treated her as if she were a favoured guest. If she were not on her guard, she would forget her place. Never before had that been a problem. Never before had she imagined herself belonging. Not caught forever on the half- landing. She must remember that, all kindness aside, Lady Braybrook was her mistress.
And Lord Braybrook her master?
She gritted her teeth. She was a dependant. Not their equal. If she could not remember that, how could she convince Harry?
Christy spent the next morning unpacking, or rather she spent twenty minutes unpacking, and the rest considering how best to fit into the household. Lady Braybrook, she discovered, did not usually leave her bedchamber until late morning, when a footman carried her down to the drawing room. This was explained by Grigson, an unsmiling female whose fashionable clothes proclaimed her Lady Braybrook’s dresser, when she came to tell Christy that her ladyship awaited her in the drawing room.
Lady Braybrook was seated by a sunny window, the tabby cat enthroned on her lap. ‘Thank you, Grigson. That will be all. Good morning, Miss Daventry. You slept well? You look much better this morning. Braybrook mentioned that you were uncomfortable in the carriage.’
Christy curtsied. ‘Thank you, ma’am. I slept very well. His lordship should not have concerned himself.’
‘Hmm. Well, I am glad you are feeling better. Do come and sit down and we can discuss your duties. You really only have Davy and Emma. Matthew is home from school, so you need not worry about him. Lissy has her French and Italian conversation and her music to practise. And she should do some sketching. You are able to help her with those?’
‘Of course, ma’am.’
‘Excellent.’ Lady Braybrook beamed. ‘With Matt on holiday, Emma and Davy need not have many lessons. Emma must practise her music and Davy must continue his reading, French and a little arithmetic, but until Matthew goes back, there is little point in more. Davy would play you up dreadfully, I dare say!’
‘I assure you, he would not get away with it,’ said Christy. And mentally kicked herself. Adoring mamas did not commonly like to know their high-spirited darlings needed discipline.
‘Excellent,’ said Lady Braybrook. ‘From the way you gave Braybrook his own last night, I didn’t imagine you would have any difficulty with Davy.’
Christy blinked.
The cat rose, stretching, all elegant muscle and sinew. Lady Braybrook made no effort to hold it, and it leapt down, stalking towards Christy.
She eyed it sideways, wondering if her pet’s desertion would offend Lady Braybrook. Unblinking emerald eyes stared back.
‘Ma’am, if you do not dislike it, I have given some thought to my role here—’ She broke off as the cat sprang into her lap. Oh, drat! She could hardly tip the creature off and it had been so long since she had been able to have a cat.
Lady Braybrook smiled over her embroidery, as the needle continued to flash. ‘My dear Miss Daventry, why should I dislike it?’ A faint twinkle appeared in her eyes. ‘After all, you have had more time to become used to the idea than I!’
Christy blushed, and petted the cat, who had settled down purring.
Lady Braybrook laughed. ‘Oh, don’t feel embarrassed. Believe me, I know how autocratic Braybrook can be when he is arranging everything for one’s good. Maddening, is he not? Now, tell me: what were you thinking?’
‘Well,’ said Christy, ‘I noticed this morning that you did not come down until quite late and—’
She broke off at Lady Braybrook’s wry smile.
‘These silly legs,’ she explained. ‘I take my bath in the morning, and of course it does take a little time. Such a nuisance…’
‘Ma’am, I did not mean—’
Lady Braybrook chuckled. ‘Of course not. Tell me what you have in mind.’
‘I wondered if I taught the younger children in the morning, before you came down, if that would work?’
‘An excellent idea,’ said Lady Braybrook. ‘Then I shall steal you for the rest of the day. Although after lunch you might accompany Lissy and Emma for their walk.’
‘Naturally I would be happy to do so,’ said Christy, ‘but if I am to be your companion—’ The amused look on Lady Braybrook’s face stopped her.
‘You have other duties, Miss Daventry,’ pointed out Lady Braybrook.
Christy flushed. ‘Lord Braybrook explained, then?’
‘Braybrook,’ said her ladyship, not mincing words, ‘is the most devious and annoying man imaginable. I haven’t decided if he is disguising your true purpose from Lissy, by pretending that you are my companion, or disguising your true purpose from me, by pretending you are here to help open Lissy’s eyes!’
Christy found herself smiling. ‘He used both arguments with me. Perhaps I am merely a convenient stone to be hurled at two birds.’
Lady Braybrook’s lips twitched. ‘He’s not completely blind, Miss Daventry. I doubt he believes you to be made of stone.’
To this cryptic remark, Christy said nothing. There was something unsettling about the amusement in Lady Braybrook’s voice. The cat rolled in her lap, offering his belly, eyes closed to blissful slits as she obliged and kneaded.
‘Another thing, my dear. That striped creature is Tybalt—Tyb. He has an absolute genius for making up to people like Braybrook who loathe cats. If you dislike him, or he makes you sneeze, for heaven’s sake, tip him off.’
Again the sense of dislocation swept her. She felt not at all like a dependant. Lady Braybrook was doing everything in her power to make an outsider feel at home. She had even given her one of the best bedchambers.
‘Thank you, ma’am, but I love cats.’
Lady Braybrook smiled. ‘Excellent. Braybrook, like most men, prefers dogs. I must say I have never worked out why so many women love cats, and men profess to loathe them, but love dogs.’
‘That,’ said Christy, caught off guard, ‘might be because cats are independent, not slavish like dogs. Perhaps we women admire an independence and power few of us will ever know. Your Tybalt may sit in my lap, but he is the one conferring a favour. Cats are rather like aristocrats. They have staff.’ Oh, dear. Should she have said that?
A ripple of delighted laughter broke from Lady Braybrook and she laid aside her embroidery. ‘Oh, goodness. I’d never thought of that, but you are perfectly right. Although many women love dogs too.’
‘And that,’ said Christy, wildly aware that the conversation had somehow become far too personal, ‘is because we are far more flexible than gentlemen and are capable of loving creatures for quite opposite reasons. Cats for their dignity and independence, and a dog for its loyalty.’
‘Good morning, Serena. May I interrupt?’
Christy froze. As a lesson in the perils of unguarded conversation, this would be hard to beat.
Julian had enough sense to pretend he hadn’t heard the comment about aristocrats and cats, but he was pleased to see he had been correct in his estimation that Serena and Miss Daventry would suit.
‘Of course, dear,’ said Serena. ‘Miss Daventry was just observing how much you and Tyb have in common.’
Julian took one look at Tyb’s current position, sprawled with considerable indelicacy in Miss Daventry’s lap. He wasn’t sure any reply was safe. His mouth dried at the sight of Miss Daventry’s slender fingers kneading that furry abandoned belly. He’d never realised all the advantages of being a cat before.
Miss Daventry, of course, was taking no notice of him whatsoever. Although he thought there was a faint flush of colour in her cheeks.
Piqued, he said, ‘Good morning, Miss Daventry, I trust you slept well?’
‘Very well, thank you, my lord.’
Prim. Proper. Precisely what she ought to be. Not speaking until spoken to, evincing a becoming respect for her betters. But under the dowdy façade lurked quite a different creature. One who was not Miss Daventry at all. One who argued, and refused to be put in her place. Who sat kneading a cat’s belly in a slow hypnotic rhythm that sent heat curling through him. Christy. That was the woman he wanted to know. And he wouldn’t mind switching places with Serena’s cat either. His body tightened. Hell! If Miss Daventry could read his thoughts, her cheeks would ignite in fury.
‘Do you require something, Julian?’ asked Serena.
He turned to her, realising that he had been staring at Miss Daventry. Somehow he had to relegate the woman to her proper place.
‘No. I merely came in to see that you were well. I will be in the library if you require me. Just send Miss Daventry.’
Serena sent him a very straight look. ‘Thank you, Julian. I believe I need not use Miss Daventry like a page boy. We will see you later, then. Good morning.’
Julian removed himself, before he could put his other boot in his mouth. It was the cat’s fault. If the blasted creature hadn’t been lolling in Miss Daventry’s lap so brazenly, he would never have been such a fool.
His agent’s reports would banish his wayward thoughts. Anything to rid himself of this fancy to find out what, beyond a sting like a wasp, hid behind Miss Daventry’s prim façade.
At luncheon Julian congratulated himself on an excellent choice of companion. Serena seemed brighter, happier than he had seen her in a long while. Not that she was ever self-pitying, but he had thought for some time that she had lost something of her sparkle.
Miss Daventry was worth her hire for that alone.
‘I think, this afternoon, Miss Daventry might accompany Lissy and Emma for their walk,’ said Serena, sipping coffee. ‘She must learn her way about.’
‘We intended to ride this afternoon, Mama,’ said Lissy. ‘Of course, Miss Daventry may still come with us. May she not, Julian?’
He glanced up, trying not to appear at all interested. ‘Miss Daventry ride? Yes, if she wishes.’ As an invitation it left a great deal to be desired, but his unbecoming interest in Miss Daventry must not be indulged.
Miss Daventry cleared her throat.
