In which they storm the drawing room
The magic in a charm is ordinarily stirred to life by a single word.
- from Lady Avely’s Guide to Lies and Charms
This time, the butler was not in evidence. Instead, a short, elderly servant stared up at them. Her wrinkled features emphasised a pair of watery blue eyes, sunken in her face and shadowed by a white mobcap. She wore an old-fashioned dark gown, respectable enough, with a crisp white apron tied over the top. A chatelaine of keys dangling from her waist indicated her profession.
This must be the skinny servant that Marigold had seen serving Lady Garvey last night.
“Yes?” demanded the housekeeper. “What is wrong?”
Dacian did not wait for permission and pushed past her. “My mistress, Marchioness of Lanyon, has twisted her ankle.”
“Broken,” moaned Judith. “I’m sure it is broken.”
“Grievously broken,” agreed Dacian. “She needs a couch and some medical aid.”
Over his broad shoulder, Judith saw the housekeeper frown. “Very well. There is a bench in the kitchen on which she may rest, while we wait for the apothecary.”
“Kitchen?” Dacian adopted the arrogant accents of an outraged footman. “Apothecary? My lady will require the Drawing Room, if you please, and a doctor.”
Following his instincts, as well as his knowledge of the house from nine years ago, Dacian marched up the hall and found the central staircase. Without any apparent effort, he carried Judith upwards. She clutched at him, knowing that this moment was soon to pass. As he strode up the stairs, she caught a glimpse of the butler, his swarthy face startled, then angry. He followed, right behind the housekeeper, who hurried behind them, protesting.
Oblivious, Dacian kicked open the door to the drawing room. They burst in. Judith lifted her head from Dacian’s shoulder to take stock of the scene.
In the chair by the fireplace, Lady Cordelia Garvey sat in regal splendour. She was not dressed for company, but clad in a peach brocade dressing robe, with a blanket spread across her knees. At least, Judith was pleased to see, her ladyship was wearing a satin mobcap much in the same style as Judith’s. A beaky nose jutted out from beneath it, and Lady Garvey’s eyes blinked in astonishment at the sight of Judith aloft.
“Lady Garvey.” Judith nodded from her elevated height. “So sorry to intrude, but I am afraid I have injured myself.”
“Judith Avely? Can it be you?” Her voice quavered, then grew in strength. “What on earth are you doing, crashing in here like this? Most improper.”
“I’m afraid I have twisted my ankle and need to rest a moment.”
The housekeeper hovered like a black shadow at the door, and spoke up skeptically. “I thought you said it was grievously broken?” Behind her, the butler scowled.
“Oh, it is feeling much better already,” said Judith firmly.
Dacian carried her over to the window seat, which was framed by curtains with maroon stripes. Tenderly, he laid Judith down in the oriel settee, arranging cushions behind her. His breath was warm on her ear, his hands gentle. Then he stood to the side, clasping his hands behind him and pursing his lips under his moustache.
He looked like a handsome, tall footman, yet she worried that it was blindingly obvious that he was something more. Someone dangerous, arrogant, and powerful, merely pretending to be a footman.
“Harold,” she said after a moment, “Please return to the inn and fetch my carriage. I cannot walk home in this condition.”
Dacian’s jaw tightened, but he dared not object. He gave a short bow and retreated in good order, pushing past the butler, who went with him. Judith had the feeling she was going to hear about his summary dismissal later. And perhaps his moniker.
“Dear Judith,” said Lady Garvey, raising her quizzing glass so that it magnified her sunken eye. “Can it really be you? The last time I saw you…” Her expression faltered and became overlaid with grief, crumpling her features. She dropped the quizzing glass onto the blanket, then spoke briskly. “What brings you here?”
“I will tell you.” Judith’s eyes slid to the housekeeper, who had not departed. The woman’s pale blue eyes watched carefully, her hands folded over the white apron. “However, I am utterly parched. I don’t suppose I could have some tea first?”
“Yes, yes,” nodded Lady Garvey. “Mrs Froode, fetch the tea things. The nice ones.”
She jerked her head, and reluctantly Mrs Froode withdrew, but not before Judith had seen her thin hands clutch each other, the veins showing.
“Thank you.” Judith settled back into her cushions, glancing round at the faded furnishings and the threadbare carpet. “You have retreated from society, I see - I have not seen you in London for an age.”
Lady Garvey cleared her throat, fingers playing with her quizzing glass as she eyed Judith. “Yes, you must tell me the latest scandals. I am certain you know all about them.”
There was a dig to her words, and Judith wondered what Lady Garvey had already heard. Judith’s daughter, Elinor, had managed to call some attention to herself during the season. Eager to deflect any attention from Elinor’s antics, Judith imparted some intriguing tidbits about the Duke and Duchess of Planx instead, and the news of her own rise to the title of marchioness.
While they were talking, Mrs Froode returned, bearing a tray of tea and biscuits. Lady Garvey nodded as the tray was set on the table before her. “Thank you, Mrs Froode. Please tell Faske to fetch a doctor for Lady Avely, if you would be so kind.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Judith swung her foot down and made a show of testing it. “I simply need a rest. I shall be fine in my carriage, once my footman fetches it.”
The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy, and once more withdrew with a lingering, suspicious glance from under her pristine white mobcap.
Judith stood and carefully limped over to the tea table. She sat down next to Lady Garvey and offered to pour the tea.
“I suppose you may.” Her ladyship’s black, hooded eyes examined Judith closely over the tea pot, her slashing brows lowered. “As long as you tell me the true purpose of your visit. It seems strange to see you now, after such a long time.”
“Yes, almost ten years!” Judith poured the tea, the liquid steaming and fragrant. “Lord Garvey is missed in London,” she lied. “I am so very sorry for what happened that night nine years ago.”
Lady Garvey gnarled hand snatched at the cup, and the liquid sloshed. “Don’t spout platitudes, Judith Avely. I always knew you didn’t like Charles. You thought yourself above him, if I’m not mistaken, though the Lord knows why. No doubt you think yourself proven right now, with your fancy new title.”
Judith blinked at this plain talking. “Not at all. It was a great tragedy to lose Lord Garvey at the prime of his life.” She paused, picking up her own cup more gingerly, the hot porcelain warming her fingers. “Did you ever discover what the duel was about, that became such a matter of life and death?”
Lady Garvey dug her chin into her peach shawl. “I heard different things,” she said irritably. “None of them true, I’d say. Charles was a perfect gentleman.”
Judith could hear the lie in her ladyship’s voice. Even his own mother did not believe that Charles had been an honourable sort.
In contrast to their sordid subject of conversation, the tea, at least, was hot and refreshing. Judith took a grateful sip. “Was the duel over a woman, perhaps? They often are.”
“How am I to know?” snapped Lady Garvey. “Sons do not usually divulge their affairs to their mothers, Lady Avely - unless young Peregrine tells you of his amours?”
Judith swallowed the scalding liquid and kept her face neutral, determined not to acknowledge the hit. She suspected there was quite a bit that Peregrine was hiding from her on that front, not the least his rather close friendship with a certain person of royal bloodline. Mustering a smile, she said, “No, indeed, and would we want to know? I am merely curious if you heard something afterwards which might explain why the duke’s ire was so fatally raised.”
“Oh, you assume it was the duke who issued the challenge, do you?” Lady Garvey sniffed. “Perhaps it was Charles who discovered the duke in some misdeed. Indeed, it is quite possible that his grace was attempting to seduce Charles’ betrothed, Miss Selina Pelling. Perhaps that was the reason for the quarrel.”
Again, Judith could hear the doubt in her ladyship’s voice, and simply raised her brows.
Lady Garvey’s nostrils flared. “Don’t give me that superior look. Miss Selina Pelling was a hussy. She was very quick to marry someone else before Charles was barely cold in the ground.”
Judith could hear that this last accusation was true. “Oh? Who did she marry?”
“Mr Southcott, local gentry,” said Lady Garvey shortly. “He owns a small property nearby. Nothing compared to this, of course.” She gestured to the decrepit drawing room, pride and proprietorship warming her gaze. “Not that Selina Pelling deserved any of it.”
“You think that Miss Selina was dallying with the duke?” Judith frowned. Did Lady Garvey know something that she didn’t? The thought that Dacian might have flirted with that young girl was like the scrape of a rusty sword over her skin. But of course, he usually went for widows. “I doubt his grace would have paid Miss Pelling much heed.”
Her ladyship gave a pitying smile. “Why do you sound skeptical, my dear? The Duke of Sargen was a rake. We all know that.”
This was true, and Judith’s reply stuck in her throat. She took another sip of tea to try to dislodge the lump.
Her ladyship snorted in triumph. “Enough of Charles’ unjust death. Tell me the purpose of your visit, Lady Avely.”
She attempted a placatory smile. “I merely wish to enquire after Miss Georgina Garvey. It occurred to me that she must be quite grown up now. Is she well?”
“Still prone to illness, I’m afraid.” Lady Garvey’s lips turned down and her gaze drifted to the window. “She has weak lungs.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?”
“It is manageable enough.”
“Will she be having her first London season next year?”
That provoked a glower. “Oh no. I’m too ill to do a season in London. And Georgina’s delicate constitution would suffer. Out of the question.”
“I thought Georgina might like to attend Elinor’s wedding,” Judith pressed. “A way to dip her toe into society, as it were. If you are too ill to escort her, you could send her with the new Lord Garvey. Kenneth resides in London, doesn’t he?”
Something darkened her hostess’s face. “Kenneth is not fit to chaperone a young girl.”
Judith tilted her head with curiosity. “What can you mean?”
“Nothing.” Lady Garvey’s expression became dour. “It is a private family matter. Suffice to say, I won’t trust my granddaughter with him.”
Judith frowned. It was true that an unattached bachelor wasn’t an ideal chaperone for a young girl, but she could hear some other meaning in Lady Garvey’s tone. Politeness dictated, however, that she could not pursue the question. “Surely Miss Georgina must have some female relatives in town? What about her mother’s side? I am so sorry to hear about Harriet’s death.”
Lady Garvey nodded tightly, her lips pressing together.
Judith waded on. “Did Harriet have any other daughters, or sisters, or cousins, that could stand in her stead to watch over Georgina?”
“The Bollophers don’t have any respectable family.” Lady Garvey’s mouth twisted in distaste. “Oh, there might be a second cousin somewhere, I grant you, but I’m not going to trust my Georgina to some stranger. Regardless, Georgina’s health is too fragile to warrant a trip into the metropolis. It is full of pollution and disease, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
“Of course,” murmured Judith. “Such a shame.”
“Now,” Lady Garvey put down her cup with a click in its saucer. “If you have quite finished prying, you may take your leave, Judith.”
That might have been that, except then Miss Georgina Garvey herself burst into the room.
She was a slender young woman, with dark hair, a pale complexion, and pretty, even features. The same red bow that Judith had glimpsed through the oriel window still sat above her ear, and she wore a frilly gown in pink and white that was a little old-fashioned. She looked rather hale and hearty to Judith’s eyes, with the vigour of youth blooming in her cheeks.
Georgina threw herself down beside Lady Garvey’s chair and clasped her empty, wrinkled hand.
“Please, Grandmama, please let me go to London!”
Lady Garvey spoke with gentle reproof. “Now, Georgie, we’ve discussed it before, and we won’t discuss it again in company. Have you been listening at the door, you naughty puss?”
“How could I help it? We never receive visitors.” Georgina turned to Judith. “I am so delighted you have called on us, Lady Avely, and it is so very kind of you to think of me,” she said prettily. “I remember Elinor so well from years ago. Is it true that she is to marry an earl?”
Judith nodded, smiling. “The wedding is soon; consider this your invitation to attend.”
Lady Garvey snorted. “Don’t raise your hopes, Georgie. And Judith, allow me to manage my own household how I see fit.”
“Come now, it will be good for Georgina to have company her own age. You cannot keep her locked away forever.”
Georgina tucked her legs under her skirts, still holding her grandmother’s hand. “ Please let me visit Elinor, Grandmama.”
Lady Garvey shook her head and gently withdrew her hand from Georgina’s clasp. Shakily, the old lady pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the oriel window with the assistance of her walking cane, her movements jerky and slow. She peered out into the grounds. “No, Georgina. You are too sensitive for London.”
“But, Grandmama-”
Lady Garvey held up a veined hand. “Your carriage is pulling up, Judith. Ah look, your footman is hopping down. A handsome fellow, isn’t he?” She peered down. “Though a bit old. Footmen should be young, in my opinion.”
Judith smoothed her skirts, and returned the thrust. “I have not seen any of your footmen, Lady Garvey, and I confess I have taken your butler in dislike. Where did you find him?”
“Oh, Faske.” Lady Garvey turned away from the window. “He is a bit rough around the edges, I grant you. However, I need a strong man on the premises to protect us. We are two women living alone, as you may have noticed.”
Soon Judith heard hasty footsteps on the stairs, and Dacian came through the door with Faske at his heels.
“My lady,” Dacian bowed low. “Your carriage awaits.”
The Illusion still concealed his features, but to Judith’s senses it was utterly obvious who he truly was. Worse, the moustache was looking more uneven, and the mole appeared to have moved slightly. Could the charm be fading? Judith cast a nervous glance at Lady Garvey, who was now examining Dacian through her quizzing glass, her brow furrowed.
“Thank you, Harold, you may pick me up,” Judith announced, hoping to distract that beady gaze. “I declare, I cannot walk.”
“Certainly, my lady.” Dacian slid his strong arms around her and launched her into the air. He smelled divine, and Judith had a sudden craving for chocolate, or perhaps something more…sustaining.
“Goodbye, Lady Garvey.” Judith twisted her head. “Please think upon my invitation. I will call again tomorrow to further discuss the matter.”
“Do not bother,” snapped Lady Garvey, dropping her quizzing glass. “I have made my decision. Goodbye, Lady Avely. Good luck with your daughter’s wedding. I hope no scandal attaches to it.”
Dacian swept her out the room. Judith could hear Georgina admonishing her grandmother as the door shut behind them.
Mrs Froode followed them out and called after them, her voice frail but somehow containing a steely note. “If you do call tomorrow, my lady, you will be turned away.”
“That is a decision for Lady Garvey,” said Judith with dignity, even though she was being held aloft like a child and peering over Dacian’s shoulder. He came to a halt and listened, his arms reassuringly solid.
Mrs Froode shook her head, her blue eyes narrowing. “You will be barred from here. Even if you cry wolf.” She gave a slightly derisive look at Judith’s exposed ankle, then turned away. “Faske, escort Lady Avely out, and do not let her return.”
There was something familiar about the housekeeper in that moment. Judith stared at the black-clad figure. “You’ve been with the household a long time, I take it? Were you here when Lord Garvey died?”
“I was,” agreed Mrs Froode. “And I advise you not to turn up old stones. You might find something ugly underneath.”
The housekeeper held Judith’s gaze for a warning moment, then turned away. “Faske, escort Lady Avely out, and do not let her return.”