The Magnificent Masquerade Part 6

"Will you listen to the chit?" Naismith demanded of the ceiling. "What have I ever done to have such creatures forced on me?"

A babble of voices broke out at once. The cook told the butler not to take on so. "Ye don't wish't' spoil yer digestion," she cautioned. Mrs. Prowne ordered Kitty to keep a civil tongue in her head. Lily asked anyone who'd listen where this green girl had come from? Jemmy, returning with the wine bottle, demanded to know what was causing the to-do. And someone else wondered aloud why Mr. Naismith didn't sack her at once! Only Miss Leac.o.c.k seemed unperturbed and continued in her inimitable ladylike style to sip her soup. The babble died down as Naismith slowly rose from his chair. "I knew she'd be trouble the moment I laid eyes on her," he said to the G.o.ds above. Then he looked at his staff sadly. "It is a shame and a curse that I can't sack the girl. But she's employed by the Birkinshaws, not by us. We must try to bear her presence for a fortnight. I know I can count on all of you to cover her indiscretions and to make the best of a bad bargain." And he turned and went toward the corner stairs. "Wait, Mr. Naismith," Cook called after him, "ye ain't 'ad yer dinner. I roasted the chicken wi' rosemary, just as ye like it."

"Sony, Cook," he said over his shoulder, "but I've lost my appet.i.te."

All eyes followed him as he tiredly climbed the stairs and disappeared into his rooms. Then all eyes turned to Kitty, devastating her with lugubrious disapproval. There was absolute silence as one after the other resumed eating. Kitty felt as if she were back at school and had been put in Coventry. Red-faced and embarra.s.sed, she requested Peg to pa.s.s the bread, but the maid seemed not to hear. "Why are you angry at me?" Kitty whispered to her. "I only repeated what you said."

"I didn't mean ye to repeat it, ye blabbermouth," Peg hissed back.

So much for our budding friends.h.i.+p, Kitty thought ruefully, feeling utterly alienated and alone. It was then that she noticed someone's hand holding out the breadbasket toward her. It was Miss Leac.o.c.k. Kitty gaped at the woman in surprised grat.i.tude. At least one person at the table had not put her in Coventry. Of all the servants at the table, Kitty would have picked the sn.o.bbish-seeming Miss Leac.o.c.k as the last person to offer her a kindness. "Thank you, Miss Leac.o.c.k," Kitty said, touched.

"Ye're quite welcome," Miss Leac.o.c.k said, picking up a piece of bread and daintily spreading it with b.u.t.ter. "It might interest ye to know, Miss Pratt," she said in a voice that was high and clear and in which each syllable was primly and perfectly enunciated, "that I have served at the family table on occasion, although I have not been asked for several years. Though some here may not realize it," and here she threw Peg a withering glance, "it's an honor to be chosen by Mr. Naismith to wait on the family, especially for a young person who's new to the household."

"Oh," Kitty said shamefacedly, "I didn't know."

"How could you know," Miss Leac.o.c.k said just loudly enough to be heard by everyone at the table, "when you'd been badly advised?" Here she gave Peg another look which clearly indicated where the bad advice had come from. "And now I think enough has been said on this subject. You'd better eat your chicken, Miss Pratt, before it becomes cold." With that, Peg received the disapproving glances from the others that had hitherto been thrown at Kitty. But soon normal table conversation was resumed, and Kitty, having been returned from Coventry by Miss Leac.o.c.k's strategem, set to her dinner with renewed appet.i.te. Only Peg still seethed. "Ol' witch," she muttered under her breath about Miss Leac.o.c.k. But Kitty didn't pay attention. Over her chicken, she threw the "old witch" a warm smile. She was beginning to learn who, among all these alien strangers, her real friend might be.

Chapter Eleven.

Kitty and Emily intended to exchange complete details of their evening's adventures before going to sleep, but each of them was too exhausted by the strenuous day to chat for long. While Kitty dutifully helped Emily to undress-a luxury Emily experienced for the first time in her life and greatly enjoyed-Emily reported to Kitty that Toby Wishart was a rude by. "I thought at first that he was quite handsome, but I later came to the opinion that the fellow would not possibly make a good husband."

"Then you think my plan is a good idea, after all?" Kitty said, b.u.t.toning Emily into her own best nightgown and trying not to yawn.

"As to that," Emily replied, climbing up on the high bed and sinking back with a sigh against an enormous pile of the softest down pillows imaginable, "I can answer that question only after we see how this wild scheme turns out." Kitty, too tired to discuss anything further, dropped an ironic little bob to her "mistress" and retreated to the narrow little room in the servants' wing to which she'd been a.s.signed. She undid the b.u.t.tons of her bombazine all by herself-and with more difficulty than she'd expected-and fell upon the lumpy cot that was to be her bed for the entire fortnight of the visit. "I'll never be able to shut my eyes on this dreadful contraption," she told herself, but no sooner had the words crossed her mind than she fell fast asleep.

It seemed as if she'd barely slept an hour before Peg roused her. "He'd better get dressed real quick if ye want yer breakfast," the girl warned. "Cook clears the table sharp at six."

"Heavens," Kitty muttered groggily. "What time is it now?"

"A bit after five, so, ye see, there ain't much time."

"Good G.o.d!" Kitty cried, leaping out of bed. She'd have to perform her ablutions, s.h.i.+ne her boots, b.u.t.ton the twenty-four b.u.t.tons of her bombazine, and braid her hair all in half an hour if she was to have time to eat. She set about dressing herself with the greatest possible speed, but she was still struggling with the back b.u.t.tons of her bombazine when she heard a clock somewhere strike five-thirty. She sank on her bed in dismay. Five-thirty! And she hadn't even started on her hair! She'd never make it to breakfast at this rate. And she was unbelievably hungry again. Perhaps, she thought, this scheme of mine was a mistake after all!

A light tap on her door roused her. She opened it a mere crack, for she realized it wouldn't do to be discovered in such disarray. She felt relieved to find it was Miss Leac.o.c.k standing at her door-Miss Leac.o.c.k, the one person at the table last night who'd behaved like a friend. "Miss Leac.o.c.k!" she exclaimed in surprise. "I ... er ... Good morning."

"I didn't see ye at breakfast," the ladylike abigail said in the cool, distant voice Kitty remembered from the evening before, "so I wondered if ye were in some difficulty."

"Yes, I am," Kitty admitted in desperation, opening the door and letting the older abigail in. "It was good of you to come, but, honestly, I'm not worth your attention. You'll only get into trouble with Mrs. Prowne or Mr. Naismith if they catch you here."

"Ye needn't worry about that," Miss Leac.o.c.k a.s.sured her in her precise, carefully enunciated syllables. "After twenty seven years of service to her ladys.h.i.+p, I'm quite immune from scolds."

"Oh, I see. Then that's why everyone calls you Miss Leac.o.c.k instead of addressing you by your given name as they do me."

"No, my dear, that's not why. They call me Miss Leac.o.c.k because n.o.body knows my given name."

"Oh?" Kitty asked curiously. "Why is that?"

"Because I won't tell them. But that is neither here nor there. I came in to learn what is causing ye difficulty."

"Yes, so you did." Kitty sank down on her narrow bed and gave a hopeless shrug. "Well, then, since you're good enough to be concerned, Miss Leac.o.c.k, you may as well hear the truth about me. I'm not accustomed to getting up at five. Even at school we were permitted to sleep 'til seven. Neither am I accustomed to this hideous bombazine. And I haven't even begun on my blasted hair!"

"No need for panic, girl," Miss Leac.o.c.k said calmly. She pulled Kitty to her feet, turned her round without another word, and quickly b.u.t.toned her dress. And before Kitty could object, she started on her hair.

"This is more than kind," Kitty said with sincere grat.i.tude. "I don't know why-"

"I recollect, when I first came here, how frightened I was by the morning scramble. I don't think I would have managed without the help I received from Mrs. Prowne."

"Mrs. Prowne? I never would have thought ... she seems to me to be a very unfriendly sort."

Miss Leac.o.c.k smiled, the first smile Kitty had seen her give. "That was many years ago," she said. "She was much younger then. The years have given her more responsibility and less patience. But believe me, my dear, under that frown she likes to wear, she's very good at heart. In fact, if we hurry down to the hall, I'd wager you'll find she's ordered Cook to keep some breakfast warm for you."

Kitty followed Miss Leac.o.c.k out the door. "I knew I had a great deal to learn about being a servant in a great house," she said in self-accusation, "but it seems I have much to learn about people, too."

Miss Leac.o.c.k actually laughed. "So do we all, my dear, so do we all. But you'll learn what you need in good time."

"There's something else I'll learn in good time," Kitty said with a gurgle of laughter, running ahead of the older woman and holding open the servants' hall door for her.

"What's that?" Miss Leac.o.c.k asked as she pa.s.sed. "Your given name," Kitty whispered in her ear.

Emily, however, reminding herself that she was living the life of a lady, stayed abed until nine. It seemed to her that she'd slept half the day away, but even at ten, when she timidly stole into the breakfast room ravenous as a wolf, she learned from Naismith that she was the first one down. "Except for his lords.h.i.+p, of course," the butler added. "Oh? Has he breakfasted already?" Emily asked, eyeing the lavish buffet spread out before her. It contained an amazing selection of edibles. The array of food seemed too varied and exotic for a mere breakfast. There were platters of m.u.f.fins and biscuits, racks of toast, bowls of fruits both fresh and stewed, covered serving dishes of several kinds of ham and other smoked meats, ramikins filled with curried, poached, or s.h.i.+rred eggs, pots of coffee and tea, pitchers of cream and honey, a.s.sorted jellies, and trays of scones, tarts, and crumpets. It was a far; cry from the porridge and tea that was called breakfast at the Marchmont Academy.

As Naismith helped Emily to load her plate, he explained that his lords.h.i.+p always left early to ride around the grounds with his bailiff. "As to Master Tobias, one never knows when he'll come down. And Lady Edith and Miss Alicia take breakfast in their rooms, so you needn't delay your own on their account."

Naismith may have felt sorry for the poor young lady having to breakfast all by herself, but Emily enjoyed the peacefulness of it. She rejoiced in the freedom of having a meal without being forced to make conversation and having to guard against a slip of the tongue. She was almost finished when Toby came in. The fellow looked even more handsome than he had the night before. He was dressed in a das.h.i.+ng riding coat, yellow breeches, and a pair of elegant Hessians with ta.s.sels at their tops. He gave her a cursory greeting, downed a cup of coffee and a m.u.f.fin without sitting down, and explained that he was off to exercise his favorite roan. Then, obviously realizing that to dash off without inviting her would be too rude even for him, he asked cursorily, "Oh, would you care to come riding, Miss Jessup?"

"I don't ride, thank you," Emily responded with icy politeness.

Toby merely shrugged. "Then I trust you'll excuse me, ma'am," he said and promptly retreated from the room.

After he disappeared, Emily left the table wondering what she was to do with herself next. She wandered about the rooms aimlessly, wis.h.i.+ng she could spend some time at the magnificent piano but afraid of annoying the others in the household. By and by, Lady Edith made an appearance. "Alicia is feeling out of frame again," she said, seating herself in the Blue Saloon and taking up her embroidery. "I don't know what to do about that poor child."

"May I pay a call on her?" Emily asked, glad for the opportunity to have something to do.

Lady Edith smiled at her gratefully. "Oh, would you? A bit of diversion might be the very thing for her." Emily ran upstairs eagerly and knocked at Alicia's door. A voice within invited her to come in, but when she entered she found that Alicia was not alone. On one side of her bed a short, balding man with spectacles and a thick mustache stood with his fingers on Alicia's wrist, taking her pulse. On the other side stood a middle-aged abigail holding a tray of medicines. Alicia smiled at Emily feebly. "Oh, Miss Jessup, how good of you to come. Miss Leac.o.c.k, set a chair for our guest, if you please. Miss Jessup, this is Dr. Hugh Randolph, who so kindly comes each day to examine me. Hugh, this is Kitty Jessup, Lord Birkinshaw's daughter. It was she who made the wonderful tisane for me yesterday."

The doctor peered at her over his spectacles. "Ah, yes. Quite a miracle worker you must be to have cured Miss Alicia's migraine sufficiently to encourage her to get out of this deuced bed and go down to dinner. How do you do, ma'am?"

"How do you do?" Emily said in polite acknowledgment, although she was taken aback by his curmudgeonly manner. "But perhaps my visit is not felicitous at this time." She took a backward step. "Shall I return later?"

"No need to go on my account," the gentleman said gruffly. "I was just leaving. I don't know why this woman insists on my coming every day. It would do her more good to perform some vigorous exercise for a quarter-hour than to have me take her d.a.m.ned pulse."

"Oh, Hugh, please don't be cross," Alicia pleaded. "You know that I would exercise if I had the strength."

"You'd have the strength if you forced yourself to be a little energetic for just one week!" the doctor barked. "Come with me, Miss Leac.o.c.k, and I'll give you some more of those headache powders. But don't give them to Alicia unless you deem it a dire emergency. Try warm milk or one of Miss Jessup's tisanes before you let her take the powder." He waved a warning finger in Alicia's face. "A dire emergency, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Hugh, I hear you. But must you go so soon? You've only just come."

"Of course I must go. I have patients who are ill, you know. Really ill. Good day, Miss Jessup." And with Miss Leac.o.c.k at his heels, he strode out of the room. Emily looked after him for a moment and then turned back to Alicia. The fragile woman was looking at the closing door with an expression of such hopeless longing that Emily almost gasped. Was poor, colorless Alicia in love with her bald, ill-tempered little doctor? "I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I interrupted your visit with your doctor."

"Oh, no," Alicia said, trying to rea.s.sure her with another feeble smile. "He was about to leave anyway. He never stays with me for more than a couple of minutes." She tried surrept.i.tiously to wipe away a tear that dripped from one eye. "He doesn't take m-my headaches very's-seriously." Emily sat at the edge of the bed and took one of Alicia's thin hands in hers. "Oh, I'm sure he does," she murmured comfortingly. "Perhaps he was just a bit crotchety today." Alicia dropped her eyes. "No, he's always crotchety with me. I ... I seem to ... to't-try his patience. He's really a very kind, very sympathetic gentleman. You mustn't judge him by his gruffness to me."

"If he's always gruff with you, why do you believe that he's kind and sympathetic?"

"Because he was so at first, before I wore him down." She gave a small, reminiscent sigh. "He was so gentle in those days, so, understanding. I think he almost ... liked me. Now it seems as if he thinks I'm not improving just to spite him." She looked up at Emily and let her eyes overflow unchecked. "Doesn't he kn-know I would g-get up and d-dance for him if I c-could?"

"Oh, Alicia," Emily said, patting the older woman's cheeks with her handkerchief, "please don't cry. We can think of something ..." She felt herself slipping into the familiar role so often practiced at school, the role of comforter and advisor.

"Think of's-something?" Alicia blinked up at her, hope s.h.i.+ning like a rainbow through her tears. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know yet," Emily admitted, "but I can see you've fallen into the habit of presenting yourself to him as helpless and weak. Perhaps if one day you could surprise him with a cheery face ... you know, Alicia, your face becomes remarkably transformed when you smile."

Alicia gaped. "Oh, Miss Jessup, does it really?"

"Yes, it does. I've noticed it several times. And you must stop calling me Miss Jessup if you want me to continue to call you Alicia. My name is Em- Kitty, if you please."

"But, Kitty, my dear, were you trying to tell me that I should pretend to Hugh that I feel better than I do?" Emily knit her brow. She hadn't intended to advise Alicia to scheme. That sounded more like Kitty's sort of advice. On the other hand, she didn't see what harm there would be in so mild a pretense. "Just give me a little time to think. Perhaps Ki-I mean my abigail can help me think of an idea."

"Your abigail?"

"Yes. I ... er ... often consult her in such matters. She's a very ingenious young woman."

Alicia pulled herself up higher on her pillows and studied Emily with a c.o.c.ked head. "Do you know, I'm feeling better! You've cheered me up more than I dreamed anyone could. I'm so glad you've come to stay with us, Kitty. Mama is quite right about you, you know. She said you're the sweetest young thing. I think Greg's choosing you for Toby was the best thing that's happened to this family in years."

But if Alicia and Lady Edith were taken with Emily, it was soon obvious that Toby was not. All afternoon he avoided her. Then he absented himself from the tea table. Finally, at dinner that evening, he teased her unmercifully until his brother told him sharply to cease and desist. Even then the dastardly fellow said bluntly-right in front of her!-that anyone who couldn't laugh at his taunts had no sense of humor. When Kitty came to undress her at night, Emily recounted the dinner conversation with tight lips. "The fellow is a swine," she declared furiously. "He kept saying things like, 'I hate goodness ... it ruins conversation," or "Every proper lady becomes a bore at last." I knew he meant me, but he expected me to laugh at those cruel quips!"

"He does sound a beast," Kitty agreed as she undid Emily's evening dress, "but I don't see why you should take on so. He's nothing to you, and yet your hands are trembling just speaking of him."

Emily looked down at her quivering fingers. "I don't know why I'm so upset. I think I'm beginning to ... to hate him."

She looked over her shoulder at Kitty in amazement. "You know, Miss Jessup, I don't think I've ever hated anyone in my life before."

"Is that true?" Kitty shook her head in disbelief. "I've hated so many people I've lost count."

"Have you really? Who?"

"Let's see." She puckered her brow thoughtfully as she tucked away the gown and pulled out the nightgown. "There was a drawing master Mama hired when I was a little girl. He always insisted that I copy exactly what he drew, and when I dared to draw what I wanted, he rapped my fingers most painfully with his ruler. Oh, how I despised that man! And there was a peddler at a fair from whom I bought what was supposed to be a gold ring. I gave him every penny that I'd saved for months and months, and when the ring turned black in less than two days, I went back to find him, but of course he was gone. I'm still furious when I think of it." She raised the nightgown over Emily's head. "And sometimes I've hated Bella-"

'Bella? At school?" Emily asked, peering at Kitty in surprise as her head emerged from the neck of the nightgown.

"Yes, quite often. Especially when she tattles. You needn't look at me as if I were a demon. It's perfectly natural to hate, I think, and not so dreadful if you don't take action." Emily's huge eyes widened in awe. "Take action?"

"Yes, like putting a dose of belladonna in the hated one's tea, or pus.h.i.+ng him off a high tower."

"Goodness, how can you even think-?"

"I don't, really. Hating someone doesn't automatically make one a murderer, you know. Although ..." Kitty couldn't help smiling wickedly. "... I have sometimes wanted to wring Bella's neck."

"I know just what you mean," Emily said, climbing into bed. "I had the urge, all evening, to slap Toby Wishart's face!"

Kitty, playing the role of abigail to the hilt, tucked Emily's comforter in all around her. "Then why didn't you?"

"Slap his face? You mean really?"

"Yes, why not? A slap is not a crime, you know. And the fellow deserved it, didn't he?"

"Oh, Miss Jessup, I couldn't actually slap someone, even if he did deserve it."

"Well, I could." She gave the pillows a last pat and went to the door. "And you could, too, given the right circ.u.mstances. It seems to me that you just don't hate him enough." After Kitty left, Emily blew out her bedside candle and snuggled down under the covers. Oh, yes, she thought, I hate him enough. How could she help but hate him? Hadn't he made it clear to everyone that he thought her a prude and a bore? And hadn't he snored through her performance at the piano? In fact, if he continued to behave in the same odious way as he did this evening, she might very well bring herself to slap him. As Miss Jessup had said, a slap was not a crime. She smiled to herself in the darkness. Why, her palm was actually tingling in antic.i.p.ation!

Chapter Twelve.

Kitty closed the door of Emily's bedroom behind her and raised her candle high. The corridor leading to the back stairs loomed ahead of her like a dark cave. Why, she wondered, couldn't Lord Edgerton keep the corridors lit as her father did at Birkinshaw House? At home the candles in the hallway sconces burned all night. But it was probably impractical here. The corridors in this place were so long and numerous that their distance was undoubtedly measured in miles instead of feet. Even so, there should have been some candle sconces installed here and there. What if, stumbling about in the darkness, one should come upon a rat?

Holding her candle before her carefully, Kitty lifted her skirts with her free hand and proceeded with a gingerly step down the hallway. She could see the glow from the main staircase ahead of her. That, of course, was nicely lit, even though the back stairs had sconces only at the turnings. The Wisharts are very generous about their own comfort, she said to herself with a touch of bitterness, but what do they care about the comfort of the staff? The thought made her stop in her tracks and grin with satisfaction: she was beginning to think like a servant!

There was a sound of footsteps on the main stairs, and in a moment a figure appeared down the hall. It was a gentleman, and he, too, carried a candle. Kitty wondered if she was about to come face to face with her intended, but she realized at once it wasn't he. She'd gotten a glimpse of Toby at the disastrous dinner the night before, and she was certain that he was stockier than the gentleman now approaching. In another instant she could see that the gentleman was Lord Edgerton himself. Kitty peered through the shadows at him admiringly. He seemed to her to be the physical embodiment of everything manly. There was something about the way he held his head, the way his step seemed to be propelled from the hip, the way his arm swung from his shoulder with a suggestion of restrained strength that fascinated her. Emily might find the revolting Toby handsome, but Kitty was convinced that his brother had something more than mere handsomeness in his face. Lord Edgerton's face had character.

She wondered if he would remember that it was she who'd laughed at his joke the night before. Would he stop and speak to her? An exchange of pleasantries with him would be a very satisfying way to end her day. Her blood tingled in her veins in excited antic.i.p.ation.

They were now face to face. Kitty dropped a curtsey. "Good evening, your lords.h.i.+p," she said breathlessly. Lord Edgerton barely glanced at her. "'Evening," he muttered abstractedly and pa.s.sed by.

Kitty stood frozen to the spot. He hadn't even taken notice of her! Blast the man, she thought angrily, can't he see I'm someone special? Does this deuced bombazine hide one's personality so completely? She knew that servants were not supposed to make themselves noticed, but she was Kitty Jessup, and Kitty Jessup, even in servants' garb, was not the sort to disappear into the woodwork. It was not her way. And then, as usually happened when she felt challenged, her brain bubbled up with a naughty and utterly irresistible idea. "Aaaaaaaah!" she screamed, letting her candle, stick and all, fly through the air. "A rat!"

"What?" his lords.h.i.+p asked, wheeling about. "Where?"

"There! Right there!" She ran toward him, holding her skirts high. "Aaaah! Don't let it bite me!" And she leaped up at him, knowing full well that his instincts would be quick enough to catch her up in his arms.

She was not mistaken in him. He caught her without a moment's hesitation, although he dropped his candle in the process. It, like hers, fell to the ground and went out, leaving only the dim glow from the stairway to pierce the darkness. "Good G.o.d!" he exclaimed, tottering to regain his balance while holding her against him. "Are you sure?" "Of course I'm sure," she said, clutching him about the neck. "I saw its beady eyes!"

"Is that all?" he asked in some disgust. "If all you saw were the eyes, how can you tell it was a rat? It was probably only a mouse."

"Only a mouse? Only a mouse? How would you like to feel a mouse nuzzle your ankle in this wretched black hole of a hallway? Besides, you can't be sure it wasn't a rat." "Yes, I can. We don't have rats. I employ a veritable platoon of servants to keep this place free of them." Kitty hid her face in his neck. "It felt like a rat to me."

"Did it indeed?" he asked, lifting her chin and trying to look into her face. "How can it have felt like a rat, may I ask?"

Kitty gave. a very convincing shudder and buried her head in his shoulder again. "I could sense his pointy snout," she whispered with a proper touch of terror.