letter and sealed it. She reached out a hand to the bell-rope and then paused. Miss Pym might hear the sound of the bell and come to see if anything was wrong.
She gently opened her bedroom door and walked along the corridor. A small boy was trimming one of the lamps that stood in an embrasure. Belinda handed him the letter and told him to take it to the marquess and then returned to her room, feeling very alone and frightened and wondering if she had run mad.
The lamp-boy was too inferior a being to convey a message to the marquess directly. He gave it to the fourth footman, who took it down to the servants’ hall and gave it to the butler in front of everyone, saying it was from Miss Earle to the marquess. The butler put on his coat, put the letter on a silver tray, and carried it upstairs.
The Jordans were in the Cedar Room and on the point of saying their good-nights to the marquess. The butler handed him the letter, but, being a good servant and scenting an intrigue, he did not say who had sent it.
The marquess turned away slightly and scanned the short note. His lips curled in a smile.
Penelope Jordan found out who had sent that letter as her maid prepared her for bed. All the servants knew. So she, too, wrote a letter and sent her maid with it to Hannah Pym.
‘As you are obviously concerned for the welfare of your fellow passenger,’ she wrote, ‘I suggest you stop Miss Earle writing letters to the Marquess of Frenton proposing assignations.’ Penelope of course did not know what Belinda’s letter had said but felt sure that as Belinda had written something she could obviously not say in public, that meant an assignation. ‘I beg you to tell the silly child that I am engaged to Frenton and any attempts on her part to secure his affections would only lead to ridicule.’
5
Anonymous
Belinda looked at the little gilt clock on the mantel which was flanked by a shepherd and shepherdess. Midnight!
Surely he would come.
She bit her lip remembering the conversation she had had with Hannah Pym before that lady retired for the night. Miss Pym had said roundly that the marquess’s intentions were definitely dishonourable, doubly so as he had kissed Belinda while courting another. Belinda had only pretended to listen, as she had in the past when someone was giving her a jaw-me-dead.
But Hannah’s words echoed in her brain. If he was an honourable man, then he should have called on her immediately after reading her note. If he was dishonourable, then he would wait until he was sure everyone was asleep and then call on her. That could not be the case. He must be waiting until morning.
She gave a disappointed little sigh. Slowly she removed her clothes and washed herself and pulled on a lacy night-gown and tied her nightcap on her head. She climbed into bed and blew out the candle on the bedside table. She studied the patterns made by the flickering flames from the fire on the walls. Then she realized the rain had ceased to fall. She climbed down from the bed again and drew the curtains and looked out. A full moon was shining and the courtyard glinted with puddles of melting snow. She tugged open the window and leaned out. The air was soft and spring-like. Her days at the castle were numbered. She had looked in on Miss Wimple with Hannah before they retired to their rooms and Belinda had been astonished at how quickly her companion was recovering her health.
She limped back to the bed, sadly climbed back in, and drew the blankets up to her chin.
There came a soft knock at the door and her heart began to thud. Servants never knocked. She got out of bed and went to open it.
The Marquess of Frenton walked straight past her and stood in the middle of the room. He smiled at her and opened his arms. Belinda closed the door and then turned and ran straight into them. Faint warning bells were ringing at the back of her mind; he was wearing a night-gown and dressing-gown and she herself was in her undress. But as his lips closed down over her own in a passionate kiss she forgot time and space and everything but the hot surgings of her own body pressed so tightly against his. Her fingers wound themselves in his long red hair still faintly scented from the hair powder that he had brushed out, and she moaned against his lips.
Hannah Pym awoke and was immediately uneasy. The first thing she thought of was that Belinda Earle had accepted her strictures too easily. She was sure that young lady was planning mischief. She was thirsty and decided to get herself a glass of water. She lit the bed-candle and then rose and went to the toilet table, which held a decanter of drinking water. Then she saw a note that had been pushed under the door. When Penelope’s maid had come to deliver it, she had scratched at the door and, receiving no answer, decided Miss Pym was asleep.
Hannah opened it and read it. Then she cocked her head to one side and pulled her nose in embarrassed distress. She was sure there were faint sounds coming from Belinda’s bedchamber.
Hannah lifted the candle and walked with a determined step through the sitting-room and straight into Belinda’s bedchamber.
Belinda was clasped in the marquess’s arms. They did not hear her come in. Both were apparently deaf to the world.
‘Stop that!’ said Hannah. ‘Stop it this minute, I say!’
The couple fell apart. Belinda was flushed and aghast, the marquess angry.
‘What do you want, Miss Pym?’ he demanded in a cold, thin voice.
‘What do I want?’ echoed Hannah. ‘The question, my lord, is what do you want?’
‘A word with you in private, Miss Pym,’ he said grimly.
Hannah led the way into the little sitting-room and closed the door firmly on Belinda.
‘My lord,’ said Hannah, ‘I do not wish to abuse your hospitality by interfering with your pleasures. But Miss Earle is no woman of the world. Nay, sir, neither is she a woman of the streets. It is well known in this household that you are courting Miss Jordan. I must ask you what your intentions are towards Miss Earle.’
‘And may I point out,’ he said calmly, ‘that my intentions are none of your business.’
‘Someone must make it their business,’ exclaimed Hannah. ‘You cannot seduce a virgin and expect me to stand by and see it happen.’
‘It is my understanding that Miss Earle is not a virgin, and she certainly does not behave like one. I was in her bedchamber at her invitation.’
‘You silly … lord, she thinks you love her. Has Miss Wimple been filling your ears with some tale about a footman?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I feel it my duty to tell you exactly what happened.’
And Hannah did.
The marquess stood frowning as she talked. There was no doubting the honesty of the story Miss Pym told. He began to wonder what on earth he would have done had he stayed in Belinda’s arms much longer. He might have seduced a highly respectable lady.
But he was a gentleman, and gentlemen never apologize because everyone knows gentlemen never make mistakes.
‘I was misled,’ he said. ‘But I think it would be too mortifying to explain to Miss Earle that I thought she was a hussy. Pray tell her I was foxed.’
‘I will try,’ said Hannah doubtfully, ‘but you look cold-stone sober.’
‘Tell her anything you like. I note the weather is improving. My servants tell me that your stage is repaired and waiting at the Queen Bess in Comfrey. We will give Miss Wimple another day’s rest and then convey you all there. Whether Miss Wimple feels up to travelling on further from the inn will be a matter for her to decide.’
