Page 26 of The Ladies Road Guide to Utter Ruin (The Ill-Mannered Ladies #2)

26

The next morning, I woke to the sound of Tully drawing the bedchamber curtains and the rhythmic thud of heavy rain upon the windows.

“?’Tis a foul day, my lady,” Tully reported, her tone implying that the Lancashire sky rained out of spite. “Looks like it has settled in too.”

So much for best-laid plans. I rose, receiving my silk wrap from Tully and drawing it close as I walked to the window. A pessimistic squint at the dark clouds and rain sweeping across the stables agreed with Tully’s prediction. There would be no riding today. Not unless a miracle happened.

Charlotte kept country hours and so breakfast was not until after nine. Time, then, to dress and visit Julia, if she was awake, and apprise her of last night’s fun and games.

My sister was in the process of dressing when Leonard opened her bedchamber door to me.

Julia sat at the dressing table in a white morning gown with a Vandyke collar trimmed with double lace. She always chose an abundance of lace when she wished to invigorate herself. It made her feel better, she said. Which probably meant she was not feeling any better.

“Has your headache gone?” I asked, walking to the windows to check if the miracle had happened in the minute it had taken me to walk along the corridor. No—if anything, the rain was heavier.

“A little,” she said as she considered the linen cap that Leonard had fetched from the clothes press.

I glanced at her maid for confirmation. Leonard gave a slight shake of her head.

My sister waved away the cap. “No. The lace-trimmed one, I think.” She turned her attention back to me. “So, what transpired at dinner last night?”

I apprised her of the currently untenable plan to ride to Blackburn and the advent of Lord Alvanley and George Brummell at the end of the week.

She clicked her tongue. “That is a meeting we cannot risk.”

“No, we cannot. I believe we will have to go before they arrive, but we must consult with Lord Evan. At present I cannot think where we can go.”

“And we must consult with Hester and Miss Grant too,” Julia said, a little reproachfully, as Leonard pinned on the chosen cap. She glanced at her maid. “I know I do not need to remind you, but none of this is to be discussed, even with Tully.”

“Of course, my lady,” Leonard said, clearly a little offended at the warning. “Miss Tully and I understand.”

I eyed my sister; she must be highly anxious to remind her trusted Leonard about discretion.

“I think we should wait to tell them. The prospect of Lord Alvanley and Mr. Brummell coming will be a little too much for Lady Hester after yesterday’s shock,” I said.

Julia rose from the dressing table stool. “As you wish.”

I had expected a great deal more argument from her, but there was an odd lethargy in her manner. I hesitated to ask after her health again, since it was such an unpredictably prickly subject now, but I could not help myself.

“Are you really feeling better, my dear?”

“I must admit I feel a little odd.” She shrugged her shoulders as if her gown was too tight. “Everything is a bit prickly and crawly. I think I am just in need of exercise after the long carriage journey.”

“We could walk the long gallery before breakfast.”

She nodded, allowing Leonard to place a shawl around her shoulders. I noticed she slid her hand along the dressing table edge as she rose and headed to the door, as if to keep her balance.

I thrust out my arm. “Come, let us walk arm in arm. We have not strolled so for such a long time.”

She took the offered support. I smiled, receiving a bare lift of her lips in return. She might deflect my concern at every turn, but something was very wrong with my darling sister.

···

The long gallery on the second floor stretched the whole length of the main house. It accommodated the Davenport collection of their more second-rate family portraits and overlooked a charming vista of formal garden. Julia, Charlotte, and I had spent many a rainy day walking its length for exercise, and sometimes, when all the servants had been dismissed and no one was around, playing a childish game of tag, full of shrieks and laughter.

As Julia and I slowly climbed the smaller side staircase that led to it, we heard a voice. A shrill voice.

“Oh no, that is Emelia,” Julia whispered, stopping upon the landing and therefore halting our momentum. “I cannot deal with her this morning. Let us go back. We are still out of sight.”

Then two other female voices reached us. Good God, the Ermine had cornered Lady Hester and Miss Grant. I glanced at Julia; she had recognized their voices too. And the danger.

“You go back. I’ll stay,” I whispered. “I cannot leave them with her; she will agitate Lady Hester too much.”

Julia, clearly torn, shook her head. “No, I will come too. We can draw Emelia away so they can retreat.”

We took the last steps, emerging into the gallery. Although it was early in the day, the wall sconces and side table candelabra had been lit, providing a warm light along its majestic length. The two hearths, however, had not yet been lit, so the air held the chill of morning. Lady Hester and Miss Grant stood about halfway along, swathed in paisley shawls and politely nodding as the Ermine—in a pale blue fur-trimmed mantle—expounded upon what sounded like the game of hoop rolling.

“Ah, Lady Augusta, Lady Julia,” Miss Grant called, valiantly trying to keep the relief from her voice. “You have come to walk too?”

Mrs. Ellis-Brant turned. “We have all had the same idea,” she said gaily, pulling her mantle more securely around her shoulders. “If Charlotte joins us, it will be quorum.”

I smiled, ignoring the misuse of quorum . “Indeed,” I said as we walked to join them. “A morning walk is aways beneficial. Even on such gloomy days.”

We all exchanged curtsies. It seemed we had arrived just in time: Lady Hester gripped the edge of her paisley shawl a little too hard, and Miss Grant was chewing on her lip. No doubt suppressing the desire to scream.

“I was just telling Mrs. Carter and Miss Dashwood about the fun that dear Charlotte always organizes for our amusement,” the Ermine said. “Just the thing to help one’s convalescence, Mrs. Carter. A little bit of vigorous exercise will chase away the doldrums.”

Lady Hester made an incoherent noise.

“I think my sister will need bed rest more than hoop rolling,” Miss Grant said.

“Of course, of course,” the Ermine said. “You no doubt found London exhausting. If one is not used to city life, it can be a trial. It must be very different from the isolated wilds where you are from. How did you end up in such a place? I cannot imagine anyone choosing to live in a swamp if not forced to do so.”

Since we had failed to rehearse a story of how Mrs. Carter and Miss Dashwood had ended up in Bournemouth, we all stared at her, momentarily nonplussed.

“Weymouth is not that isolated or wild, Emelia,” Julia finally said.

A beat of nonplussed silence met my sister’s comment.

“Weymouth?” the Ermine said, and gave a small giggle. “Do you not mean Bournemouth, Lady Julia?”

Oh no.

She turned to Lady Hester. “Did you not say you were living in Bournemouth?”

“Yes,” Lady Hester managed, her alarm plain to see.

For a long, awkward moment, Julia did not answer—I could see her horror at the slip—but she finally rallied. “Of course, Mrs. Carter is from Bournemouth. I misremembered, that is all.”

“You? Misremember? But you are famed for your prodigious memory, Lady Julia,” the Ermine said archly. “It has always been remarked upon.”

“I think yesterday’s travel has been hard upon us all,” I said quickly. “It was arduous and we are all still a little weary. Perhaps that is enough walking for today.”

“Yes, quite,” Miss Grant said. “My sister and I will take our leave now to rest before breakfast. Good morning.” She ushered Lady Hester away, casting a wild look back at me as they walked toward the staircase.

“It must be the fatigue of the journey,” Julia said. “Of course I know where our friends live. It was just a slip of memory. From fatigue, I’m sure it was just fatigue—”

“Indeed,” I said, cutting her off. My sister was, I feared, protesting too much, and the Ermine was watching her with knitted brow. “Good morning, Mrs. Ellis-Brant. We will see you at breakfast.”

I took my sister’s arm and sedately steered her to the staircase, away from the Ermine’s far-too-watchful gaze.

Back in her bedchamber, Julia pressed her hands to her face, close to tears.

“I do not know why I said Weymouth. I know it is Bournemouth. And Emelia pounced upon it. Did you hear that snide remark about my memory? And Hester’s face—it has frightened her even more.”

I drew my sister’s hands down in my own. “Come, you are making too much of it.” It was not idle comfort on my part; my sister seemed overwhelmed by the small mistake.

“What if she puts it all together?”

“From that one comment? I do not think so, my dear.”

I suspected the Ermine had been more interested in my sister’s failure of memory than in what she had failed to remember. Even so, Julia was right about Hester—her fear had been almost tangible.

“Leonard,” I called. My sister’s maid promptly emerged from the adjoining dressing room. “Go fetch tea and some bread and butter for Lady Julia.”

“I do not need tea and bread,” Julia said.

“You ate nothing for dinner. Please take something.”

She eyed me for a mutinous moment, then sighed. “As you wish.”

I nodded to Leonard, who departed on her mission.

Julia grasped my hands, her skin oddly clammy. “You must check on Lady Hester and Miss Grant. They must be so anxious. No, I should do it. To apologize. Yes, that is what I must do.”

She drew her hands back but I kept hold of them.

“No, my dear,” I said. The last thing we needed was my sister and Lady Hester spinning each other into more agitation. “I will visit them. Now, put this behind you and do not mention it again. Especially to the Ermine. Returning to it will only raise it in its importance.”

On that sage advice, I took myself off to Lady Hester.

Her bedchamber was almost a mirror of my own, except painted green, and the bed had a canopy set above four turned posts, one of which Lady Hester was clinging to for support, panting with fear. Miss Grant held her beloved’s free hand and rubbed her back.

It appeared Lady Hester did not need any help spinning herself into greater agitation. I quickly closed the door and provided the same reassurances I had given my sister.

“See, Lady Augusta agrees with me, dearest,” Miss Grant said firmly. “It was a minor slip. Nothing will come of it.” She looked at me over Hester’s shoulder, plainly unconvinced herself, but I approved her attempt to calm her love.

“We are all forced indoors today,” I said. “Please, if you can bear it, come down for breakfast and then claim the need for rest. Mrs. Ellis-Brant has other fish to fry and I believe this will go unremarked if we do not make it a point of interest.”

“How can you know that?” Lady Hester demanded.

“She thinks your brother is Lady Davenport’s lover and is trying to interfere.”

As I had hoped, the shock of that statement jolted Hester from her track.

“What?” She stared at me for a moment—the information sinking in—and then a glimmer of a smile curled her mouth. “Oh my goodness. Does my brother know?”

“He does. He and Charlotte are playing along in order to distract Mrs. Ellis-Brant. So, you see, she is busy upon her own scandal.”

Hester released her death grip upon the bedpost. “My brother is playing along? But surely he would find such a pretense distasteful. He cannot abide anything that is not of an honest nature.”

Her view of her brother was, understandably, somewhat outmoded. I’m sure there had once been a time when Lord Evan Belford would not have engaged in such a deception—it would have been too dishonorable—but now it was his only way of survival. And, thankfully, he was rather good at it. “Your brother would do anything, I think, to ensure your safety,” I said diplomatically.

I left them discussing that development, but I had no confidence in its distracting them for long. I had ducked Hester’s challenge, but she was right: I did not know if Julia’s mistake had piqued the Ermine’s interest. What concerned me more was Hester’s state of mind. And what impact the imminent news of Lord Alvanley’s and Mr. Brummel’s visit would have upon that state. It was all becoming so tangled and strained.

I stopped at the top of the staircase, suddenly uncertain of where I should go. Back to my sister? To Charlotte? What was the next step? My true desire was to find Evan, but he would be in the bachelors’ quarters. No place for an unmarried lady, or indeed any lady. Not with all the servants busy throughout the hall upon tasks.

I looked out the stairwell window at the sodden garden. It had been my idea—no, in truth, my insistence—that brought us here for sanctuary, and now danger was closing in from all sides. We would, I think, have to flee soon. But to where?

Rivulets of water ran down the window glass. The rain had not eased at all. No miracle yet, and we sorely needed one. Hopefully tomorrow it would be waiting for us in Blackburn.