Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess. Christine MerrillЧитать онлайн книгу.
advances?’
A footman snickered, and then caught himself, after a glare from the butler.
But a maid laughed and said, ‘It was hard to see just who was advancing on who.’
‘Remember where your loyalties lie, Maggie,’ murmured Mrs Sims. ‘You do not work at Bellston Manor.’
Maggie snorted in response. ‘I’d be welcome enough there, if I chose to go. My sister is a chambermaid at Bellston. And she has nothing but fine words to say of his Grace and his new Duchess, now that our mistress…’ the girl crossed herself quickly before continuing ‘…is no longer there to interfere.’ She looked at Daphne, pointing with her fork. ‘When her ladyship was alive, I worked above stairs, helping the lady’s maid with the ribbons. And let me tell you, I saw plenty. Enough to know that his lordship is hardly to blame for the way things turned out in the end.’
‘Then you should know as well the reason we no longer see his Grace as a guest in the house.’ The butler was stiff with disapproval.
Daphne’s eyes widened in fascination as the conversation continued around the table.
‘It is a wonder that Lord Colton did not take his anger out in a way that would be better served,’ said a footman, ‘on the field of honour.’
‘Don’t be a ninny. One does not call out a duke, no matter the offence.’ The upper footman nodded wisely. ‘There’s rules about that. I’m sure.’
‘In any case, weren’t all the man’s fault.’
The housekeeper sniffed again, as though she wished to bring an end to the conversation.
‘Just sayin’. There are others to blame.’
The housekeeper tapped lightly on her glass with her knife. ‘We do not speak of such things at this table, or elsewhere in the house. What’s done is done and there is no point in placing blame for it.’
The table fell to uneasy silence, enjoying a meal of beef that was every bit as good as that which she had eaten at home above stairs. Daphne suspected that such meals had gone a long way in buying the loyalty of the servants, none of whom seemed to mind that the master had murdered the mistress.
One by one, the servants finished their meals and the butler excused them from the table to return to their duties. But Daphne took her time, waiting until all but the butler and housekeeper were gone. If there was information to be had, then surely they must know, for it seemed that they knew everything that went on in the house.
But before she could enquire, the housekeeper spoke first. ‘Why did you choose to eat below stairs, Miss Collins?’
‘I thought, since I am a servant, it was appropriate.’
The housekeeper gave her a look to let her know that she had tripped up yet again. ‘A servant now, perhaps. But a lady above all, who must be accustomed to a better place in the household than the servants’ table.’ Mrs Sims looked at her with disapproval. ‘And a lady with a most unfortunate tendency to gossip. It is not something we encourage in this house.’
‘I am sorry. I was only curious. If I am in possession of all the facts, I might be best able to help the children.’
The butler responded, ‘I doubt there is anyone in possession of all the facts, so your quest is quite fruitless. But I can tell you this: the less said about their mother, the better. She was a hoyden, who got what she deserved.’
Daphne let out a little gasp. ‘Surely not. The poor woman, God rest her soul.’
The housekeeper drew herself up with disapproval. ‘You think that knowing the truth will help the little ones? Then here it is, or all you need to know of it. What happened to our mistress was the result of too much carrying on. The children are lucky to be rid of her, however it happened.’
So Mrs Sims suspected something was strange about the death. But the housekeeper’s assessment was most unjust. ‘I hardly think it is fair to believe such things, when you yourself admit that no one knows all the facts in the situation. In the last house I was employed, everyone thought much the same of the only daughter. They were all most censorious, when she was guilty of the smallest breaches of etiquette. She strayed from the common paths in Vauxhall with one of her suitors. And before she knew it, she was packed off to the country in disgrace. I suspect she was no worse than Lady Colton.’
‘Do you now?’ The housekeeper shook her head. ‘Then you are most naïve. If the young girl you mention was already straying on to dark paths with young men, then I suspect it was for more tickle than slap. Perhaps the late Lady Colton would have called it innocent fun and not the death of the girl’s reputation. In fact, I am sure that my lady and the girl would have got on well together. Clarissa Colton would have approved, for the young lady you describe would have been taking a first step toward becoming what she had become: a lady with no discernible morals. It pains me to say it. But her ladyship had no sense of decency whatsoever. No respect for herself, and certainly none for her husband.’
It stung to hear such a blunt assessment of her character. For the housekeeper seemed to agree with Daphne’s parents that her trips to Vauxhall could have put her beyond the pale. And Mrs Sims had predicted Clare’s reaction to the thing well enough—she had said that there was no harm in it at all. She came to her cousin’s defence. ‘Perhaps, if I were married to Lord Colton, a man so distant, so cruel and so totally lost to gentleness, my behaviour would be much the same.’
‘If you were married to him?’ The housekeeper let out a derisive laugh. ‘Quite far above yourself, aren’t you, Miss Collins? His lordship is not good enough.’ She glanced toward the conservatory, as though she could see the master of the house through the walls separating them. Then she said softly, ‘I have worked in this house for almost forty years. I have known Lord Colton since he was a boy. And there was nothing wrong with his character before that woman got her hooks into him. A bit of youthful high spirits, perhaps. A slight tendency to excess drink, and with it, a short temper. Things that would have passed, with time. But under the influence of his wife, he grew steadily worse.’
‘So his misbehaviour is youthful high spirits. But the occasional straying of a girl will permanently damage her character.’
The housekeeper gave her a look that proved she thought her a complete fool. ‘Yes. Because, as you can see, his problems did not render him incapable of making a match.’
‘But I do not see that they have made him a good choice for a husband,’ Daphne snapped in return. ‘In my experience so far, he is a foul-tempered, reclusive man who cares so little for his children that he allows the neighbours to choose their governess.’
Mrs Sims frowned. ‘He cares more for the children than you know. And if you care for them as well, you will see to it that the boy grows up to be the man that his father is, and the girls learn to be better than their mother, and get no strange ideas about the harmlessness of straying down dark paths in Vauxhall Gardens. Good evening, Miss Collins.’
Daphne had the strange feeling that she was being held responsible for the wayward actions of her imaginary charge, and that Mrs Sims’s estimation of her skills had gone down by a wide margin.
Which made the truth seem all the stranger. What might Mrs Sims have said if Daphne’d admitted that she was the girl, and that her parents had no idea that she had elected to come to Clare’s home, instead of her dear aunt in Anglesey? She was supposed to remain there until such time as her behaviour was forgotten, her reputation restored and her head emptied of Clarissa Colton’s nonsensical advice.
She walked slowly up the stairs to her room. In retrospect, she had to admit that the outing to Vauxhall had been a mistake. She had been so blue, in the wake of Clare’s death. And her beau, Simon, had assured her that moping at home was no way to honour her cousin’s memory. But once she was alone with him in the dark, she suspected that Simon cared less for her feelings than his own. Her London social life had ended in a flurry of open-mouthed kisses, wayward hands and a slap that had brought her friends