‘Mr Clarence died and left me a legacy. How I longed to be free to travel in those long years during which he became a recluse.’
‘Why did you stay?’ asked Belinda curiously.
‘I was loyal. I never managed to save much money. I ran the house my own way. I could perhaps have moved to a livelier household, but might have been badly treated by some new mistress. But as to your future, miss, would it not be better to be mistress of this grand castle and a marchioness than to go to Bath in disgrace?’
Belinda rose to her feet and stooped and dropped a kiss somewhere in the air above Hannah’s head. ‘Dear Miss Pym,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I shall endure my stay with Great-Aunt Harriet and dream of my future as a spinster. You need not help me to bed. I am not really such a spoilt brat that I cannot look after myself.’
Hannah took herself off to her own bedroom. She chided herself for having been too forward too soon. Belinda obviously did not view the marquess with a loverlike eye and probably never would.
The marquess said good night to the Jordans and mounted the stairs. He decided to see how Miss Wimple was faring. He was startled at that lady’s shaven head, and then realized she had probably been leeched. The doctor was holding a glass to her lips, as she had just regained consciousness.
‘I am very pleased with our patient’s progress, my lord,’ said Dr Patterson.
‘I see she has recovered her senses.’ The marquess approached the bed. ‘You have finished leeching the lady’s head. It might be a good idea to tie a nightcap on her.’
‘Just about to do that,’ said the doctor. A maid appeared from the shadowy recesses of the bedroom, stooped over Miss Wimple and tied on a lacy nightcap, and then collected the empty glass from the doctor and left the room.
‘When will she be fit to travel?’ asked the marquess.
‘Hard to tell. A week. Two weeks. Of course, if these passengers weary you, they could be conveyed to the Queen Bess within, say, a couple of days. As you know, my lord, it is an excellent hostelry, not far from here, and our patient could be taken there lying in one of your carriages.’
‘We shall see,’ said the marquess. ‘You may retire for the night, Doctor. I shall wait with the patient until a servant arrives to watch over her. Ask the housekeeper for a suitable maid. She herself has done her stint of duty at the bedside.’
The doctor left. Miss Wimple appeared to be trying to speak. The marquess drew even closer to the bed. ‘Belinda – Miss Earle?’ whispered Miss Wimple in a weak voice.
‘She is safe and well, madam. Your only concern is to regain your health.’
‘Wayward girl,’ said Miss Wimple in a stronger voice. ‘You are the Marquess of Frenton, Dr Patterson tells me.’
‘At your service, ma’am.’
‘My compliments to your wife, my lord.’
‘I am not married.’
‘Ah. You must, my lord, forgive my charge’s wayward ways. Running off with a footman indeed.’
Miss Wimple’s voice was becoming stronger by the minute.
‘Ran off with a footman, did she?’ asked the marquess.
‘Nothing came of it.’ Miss Wimple’s voice became suddenly weary. ‘A wicked, wicked girl, but even the footman did not want her.’ Her voice trailed away and her eyelids began to droop.
And having successfully demolished Belinda’s reputation in the eyes of the Marquess of Frenton, Miss Wimple folded her hands on her massive bosom and fell asleep.
4
There’s something undoubtedly in a fine air,
To know how to smile and be able to stare,
High breeding is something, but well-bred or not,
In the end the one question is, what have you got.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
Arthur Hugh Clough
Belinda awoke and for a short moment did not know where she was. Then recollection came flooding back. She was in Baddell Castle, a guest of the Marquess of Frenton. She thought with amusement about Miss Pym’s ambitions for her. Almost as bad as Aunt and Uncle, reflected Belinda. How they would disgrace themselves were they both here, primping me and pushing me forward.
Her stomach gave an unladylike rumble. She wondered whether she could expect breakfast or if the marquess kept London hours and rose about two in the afternoon. Her stomach rumbled again and she threw back the covers, climbed down from the high bed, pulled on a wrapper, and went in search of Miss Pym. That lady’s bed was empty, so Belinda decided to dress and go downstairs.
She rang the bell to summon the lady’s maid and spent an enjoyable half-hour choosing an ensemble. Belinda had had little interest in clothes in London and would not admit to herself that this sudden desire to be fashionably gowned was to compete with Penelope Jordan.
She chose a cambric muslin gown, white with a small blue velvet spot and with a pelisse of blue silk trimmed with fur to wear over it. For her head, she selected the newest style in caps, a confection of muslin with the same blue velvet spot as her gown. Olive-green stockings, the very latest colour, were chosen as they, or rather one of them, would be seen, fashion demanding that any elegante should loop her gown over one arm to show one leg almost to the knee.
Betty, the maid, heated the curling tongs and arranged Belinda’s hair in a simple but flattering style before putting the froth of a cap on top of it.
On leaving the warmth of the bedroom where the fire had been burning brightly, Belinda was struck by the chill of the corridor. Through a mullioned window she could see snow falling steadily on the battlements. Both portcullises were lowered. It was amazing that they were still in use. Obviously the marquess did not expect or did not desire any further visitors.
She hesitated at the top of the main staircase and looked about for a servant to guide her to the breakfast room. She began to wonder if breakfast was being served at all. It was only eight in the morning, and a disgracefully unfashionable hour for any lady to be up and about. But Betty had made no comment, and surely the maid would have said something.
Then she saw a footman ascending the staircase and went down to meet him. To her query, he inclined his powdered head and said, ‘Follow me, miss.’ He led the way down to the first landing and then along a passage and threw open the door of a room.
To Belinda’s relief, the sideboard was laden with dishes. She sat down at a small mahogany table. The butler came in carrying a tray with pots of coffee, tea and hot chocolate, but asked her if she would prefer beer. Belinda asked for tea and then chose kidneys, bacon, egg and toast. She marvelled at the efficiency of the marquess’s staff, who could produce all this food so quickly, but no sooner had she begun to eat than the door opened and the marquess came in. Breakfast had been prepared for him, and he had not expected any of his guests to be up so early, for he looked at her in surprise.