time or another, practically every member of the
'When Benjamin was alive, I didn't worry about losing her. She was totally devoted to him, which, I might add, frequently caused him a great deal of distress.' She smiled softly at the memory.
'Will you get on with it?' Simon barked impatiently.
Constance looked at him reproachfully but continued her story. 'Since Benjamin's death, several ladies of quality have resumed their pursuit of my cook-among them, the Duchess of Alls worth, who is a frightful old curmudgeon and, in my opinion, the worst of the lot. To top it, she will insist on wearing puce.'
Simon cleared his throat in a manner that Constance could only interpret as ominous.
'At any rate,' she hastened, 'I have no intention of losing her to anyone, so, when Mrs. Finch was so outraged at Noelle's presence in the house, I thought it only sensible to play on her sympathies.
'After assuring her that Noelle was not a harlot, I proceeded to 'cast myself on her tender mercies,' as I believe I put it.' Constance smiled. 'She rather liked that. I then painted Noelle as poor and ignorant-a person with no advantages. This, of course, is what Noelle overheard. I led Mrs. Finch to the conclusion that she and I, as women of good conscience, could do nothing else but clasp her to our bosoms, so to speak, in the spirit of charity.'
Turning to Noelle, she was suddenly serious. She cared deeply about this child and regretted inflicting such pain. 'I'm sorry, my dear. It was certainly a less than noble thing to do, but I confess a dreadful weakness for properly prepared food. If the truth be known, I attached no importance to the encounter at all. If I had, I would certainly have discussed it with you.'
Noelle knew that Constance spoke the truth. Her own prejudices against the privileged classes had been her greatest enemy, not this woman.
'I'm so ashamed,' she murmured. 'You should have thrown me out weeks ago.'
Constance laughed in relief. 'Not for the world! For the first time in months I haven't awakened in the morning trying to decide how to fill the hours until bedtime. Just wondering what trick you'd pull at the dinner table was enough to keep me amused for half a day.'
Noelle looked at the older woman in amazement. 'How can you smile about it? What I did was horrible.'
'Absolutely,' Constance agreed cheerfully, her green eyes dancing. 'Several times I would have happily strangled you. Why, the first time you picked up your soup bowl and drank from it, I feared I should have a spasm.'
At the sight of Constance's features alight with amusement, Noelle's admiration for her blossomed into full flower. 'You are a remarkable woman, Mrs. Peale. I've greatly misjudged you.'
Constance waved a hand in elegant dismissal. 'I'll hear no more of it. We were both in the wrong. Now, I don't know about either of you, but I am in dire need of a cup of tea.'
She rang a small silver bell, then settled herself on the settee, pulling Noelle down beside her. 'Now, tell me, Noelle, what would you like to read after you've finished
Although Noelle knew how unlikely it was that she would have access to the books she yearned to discover, she pondered Constance's question seriously. 'Moliere's plays, I think.'
The two women were soon engrossed in conversation. The arrival of the maid compelled them to slow down, but when their cups were filled, they began anew, Noelle bombarding Constance with questions about the books in Benjamin's library and Constance dancing from one answer to the next.
Simon stood forgotten in the corner of the room. Although it was still morning, he poured himself a large brandy and sat down to wait them out, studying the two women as he lit his pipe. Constance's elaborate auburn curls rested near Noelle's shorn locks. So tall and proud, she reminded him of a young lioness. Perhaps, just perhaps, his gamble would pay off. If only she weren't so unattractive, for she certainly had the spirit to ensnare his wild son.
Caution, Simon, he warned himself. She still has to be convinced to stay. His pipe had gone out. He relighted it, the smoke clouding around his handsome head as he spoke. 'Noelle, your stiff-necked pride almost ruined your chance for a good life. Are you going to let it happen again?'
Although Noelle had been absorbed in her conversation with Constance, she knew instantly what he meant. 'Mr. Copeland, I can't take charity from either of you. You must understand that all I've really ever had is my pride.'
'Rubbish! How can it be charity? In the past weeks I have interviewed that fool, Tom Sully, as well as consulted with several barristers. There is nothing I can do to terminate your marriage.' Unvoiced was the knowledge that there was nothing he would do, even if he could. 'Whether you like it or not, you are legally married to my son, so it can hardly be called charity.'
Noelle shook her head stubbornly. 'I have taken care of myself since I was ten, and I will keep on.' She tried to make them understand. 'When you don't have food or clothing or even a clean body, other things become important, like courage, pride.'
'You talk of pride,' Simon countered, advancing on her. 'What of mine? Am I not permitted to care for my own son's wife?'
This was an argument Noelle understood. There was no way a man like Simon Copeland could back away from what he perceived as his responsibility. His pride was as fierce as hers.
Rising from her place beside Constance, she lifted her chin with determination. 'There is something you should know, Mr. Copeland. My feelings toward your son have not changed. If anything, they are even stronger. I hate him, and I am going to make him pay for what he did to me. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I will make him pay.'
'Fair warning,' Simon said easily, 'but it does not change my mind in the least. You are my responsibility now, and I will provide for you.' He began closing the distance between them.
Impulsively Noelle darted a quick hand under the hem of her skirt and pulled out the knife, pointing its blade within inches of Simon's chest. Behind her, Constance gasped in alarm. Simon's face paled.
'This is the kind of woman I am, Mr. Copeland. The kind of woman you want Mrs. Peale to take into her home. I've been wearing this on my body since I arrived. I stole it from your kitchen because your son took mine. It didn't bother me a bit to steal your knife. I felt it was due me.' She lowered the weapon to her side. 'But what you're offering, I didn't earn, and I don't take what I haven't earned.'
'All right, then! You can God damn well earn it,' Simon roared, his face a mask of fury. 'You will stay here with Mrs. Peale for a year. More, if need be. Then you will take your place in London as my niece and my hostess. I will pay you a generous salary, but out of that, you must give Mrs. Peale a monthly sum to cover your expenses with her. You must also pay for your own clothing, and, I warn you, I expect you to dress as well as any woman in London. By the end of one year you must be well versed in literature, history, and current events. You must know how to dress, pour tea, and engage in polite conversation. And, by God, if you can't do all of those things by the time the year is up, I'll throw you back on the streets and have every constable in London watching you, waiting for you to dip your hands into a pocket! Now, does that satisfy your damnable pride?'
The room fell silent as the two glared at each other. Constance held her breath. Noelle looked so enraged that Constance waited with horror-stricken certainty for the moment when the girl would again raise the knife that was clenched at her side.
There was the muffled sound of a pot banging from far below in the kitchen… a branch brushing against the window pane… then Noelle threw back her head and laughed so merrily that Constance closed her eyes and released a long sigh.
'It satisfies my pride very well indeed, Mr. Copeland. I am delighted to accept your offer.'
Turning her back on Simon, she walked over to Constance and knelt on the floor in front of her. 'Will you have me for a year, Mrs. Peale, and continue to teach me?'
'I shall be delighted, my dear.' Constance reached out a gentle hand and tenderly brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen across Noelle's thin face. 'Provided, of course, that you call me Constance and stop wearing that villainous weapon on your body. I vow, Noelle, you shortened my life by at least a year when you pointed it at Simon.' Constance shuddered at the memory.
Noelle grinned mischievously. 'A most sensible suggestion. You know how bad-tempered I become when you nag at me about my printing. I might forget myself and pull it on you.'
Constance's expression of disapproval was somewhat marred by the twinkling in her green eyes. 'I will excuse you now to go to your room and put it away. Otherwise, I shan't be able to eat a bite of dinner, and Mrs. Finch has
