‘Rather high-handed of you,’ said Belinda crossly when Betty had left. ‘Now I shall have to untie the tapes of my gown myself and brush my own hair.’
‘You are quite able to brush your hair yourself, and I shall help you with your gown. What if you were up the Amazon River or somewhere monstrous interesting like that? You could not expect a lady’s maid to be on hand.’
‘True, but if I and everyone else decided to do without lady’s maids, there would be a great number of unfortunate servants left unemployed.’
‘But I want to talk to you,’ said Hannah. ‘I
‘What about?’ demanded Belinda, stifling a yawn.
‘Have you noticed the Marquess of Fenton?’
‘Of course I have. A very kind host.’
‘He is a handsome man.’
Belinda scratched her head in an unladylike way. Then she laughed. ‘Why, Miss Pym, you are like all the rest. If a man has a title and a fortune, then of course he is handsome.’
‘I think you are both well suited,’ said Hannah.
‘My dear Miss Pym, your wits are addled with fatigue. The man must be in his thirties. He is very cold and austere. Did you mark the fine paintings, the
‘But he is fastidious, and she is not very clever, I think, and has no gentility of manner,’ said Hannah eagerly. ‘I tell you this because I was alarmed to hear the openness of your speech at supper. You must never tell him about the footman.’
‘Of course not. I am not such a widgeon. Ladies who run away with servants are always credited with having vulgar and lustful passions. Probably the ladies were simply bored to tears.’
‘You may have the right of it,’ said Hannah sadly. ‘Poor Mrs Clarence.’
‘Who was Mrs Clarence?’
‘I shall be open with you. I am but lately risen to the ranks of gentility. For years I was a servant in the Clarence household at Thornton Hall in Kensington.’
‘Tell me about it,’ said Belinda, brightening at the prospect of a story.
‘I was taken from the orphanage when I was very young and sent to Thornton Hall as a scullery maid. Mr and Mrs Clarence were newly-weds. I was very fortunate. The house was warm, and there was food to eat, which could not be said about the orphanage. It was a happy household. Most ladies never see the inside of their own kitchens, but not Mrs Clarence. She was so pretty and gay.’ Hannah sighed. ‘Mr Clarence was a good man but very withdrawn and morose. At first Mrs Clarence got her way and there were plenty of parties and balls and picnics, and occasionally we servants were allowed to go to the play. I worked very hard and became between-stairs maid, then housemaid, then first housemaid, and then my greatest ambition was realized, and I was made housekeeper. I was competent, but my work was not so arduous, and I had more time to realize that the Clarences were not happy. A few parties were still held, but Mr Clarence would cast gloom over every assembly. And then, one day, Mrs Clarence ran away with one of the footmen. It was a shock to us all. She had not seemed to favour him overmuch. It was considered that passion had got the better of breeding, but now I wonder. I could see her beauty fading and her high spirits being worn down under her husband’s moodiness and disapproval. The footman was a happy young man, very cheerful and good-natured. But the world still thinks ill of Mrs Clarence and assumes she died soon after in disgrace. But she was a wealthy woman in her own right, so they would not starve. I would like to find her again and tell her that her husband is dead, and that she is free to marry, but I do not know where she can be found.
‘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
Arthur Hugh Clough
