‘He was back in her bedchamber again,’ said Hannah as she and Belinda prepared for bed, ‘and I fear she is a gossip. I am perfectly sure she told him about that footman.’
‘She must be stopped!’ said Belinda, aghast.
‘Yes, but how?’ Hannah sat down on the edge of the bed next to Belinda and, worried though she was, studied her feet, of which she was inordinately proud, with some complacency. ‘I fear I shall have to call on your aunt when we reach Bath and explain to her that your companion is ruining your reputation.’
‘I suppose I should not refine on it too much.’ Belinda sighed. ‘It is not as if a Methodist minister is the height of fashion. He will not frequent the same circles as Great-Aunt Harriet.’
‘But the Marquess of Frenton will,’ said Hannah.
Shocked and dismayed, Belinda stared at her. ‘Yes, my dear,’ said Hannah. ‘Now that we are away from the castle, I must tell you that Miss Wimple must have told Frenton about that footman, and in such terms that he thought you open to his advances.’
Belinda hung her head. ‘How
‘You are a young lady of heart and feeling,’ said Hannah. ‘It was the marquess who came out of that adventure badly and not you. Now that he knows you to be respectable, for you may be sure I put him straight on that matter, he may readjust his thoughts. The Jordans are dull, and despite lineage and money, very common. If he cares for you at all, he will come and find you. If all he wanted was an easy diversion, then you are much better off without him.’
‘It makes him seem so much less noble,’ said Belinda. ‘I thought he was so far above me. He behaved disgracefully, for even had I lost my honour to that footman, I am still an unmarried young lady of good family and not some tavern wench.’
‘That kind never stops to think when something they want comes across their path.’ Hannah patted Belinda’s hand. ‘I heard a little from the servants. He was left quite poor when his father died and restored the family fortune by intelligence and hard work. But a marquess is a marquess, and money or not, he must have been courted and feted as soon as he was out of short coats. Any female he wants is his for the taking. Do you still care for him?’
Belinda shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I cannot think clearly. Every time I try to think of him, I can only think of my own wanton behaviour. Passion is a cheat, as you surely know, Miss Pym.’
Hannah looked at Belinda doubtfully. Ladies did not feel passion. Everyone knew that, or rather, everyone except Belinda Earle. She herself had never been swayed by such feelings, even when she was the lowest of servants. Certainly, she had been smitten by that under-butler, but that had been a shy and tremulous yearning of the spirit for a friend. Men had lusts, women had love, that was the difference. Perhaps Belinda’s ancestors had slipped up somewhere and introduced a vulgar strain into the blood.
‘Was Miss Wimple very angry when you said you would not share a room with her?’ asked Hannah, changing the subject as they both climbed into bed.
‘Not really. I told her that, as an invalid, she would be better in a room by herself. Are not the conventions strange, Miss Pym? For all we know, Miss Wimple may have been indulging in Roman orgies with Mr Biles, and yet it is all right for them to be locked up in a bedchamber together.’
Hannah began to giggle helplessly. ‘Why, what is the matter?’ asked Belinda.
‘I am trying
‘Have you ever seen a vulture?’ asked Belinda, settling back against the pillows and hoping to wheedle a bedtime story from her new friend.
‘I saw a drawing in a book in the library in Thornton Hall.’
‘Did you always read much?’
‘No,’ said Hannah. ‘I was barely literate when I arrived at Thornton Hall, but so ambitious!’
‘So how did you learn to read and write? Oh, I know. I wager it was the beautiful Mrs Clarence.’
‘Yes. It was when I was the between-stairs maid. She found me one day glaring at a newspaper and turning it this way and that, and asked me gently if I could read. I said I could only make out a very few of the words. But she had hired a nursery maid—’
‘She had children? You did not mention children.’
Hannah shook her head sadly. ‘She was so very sure she would have children, don’t you see. She had a nursery all prepared, cradle and toys, and everything so dainty and pretty. She hired the nursery maid, saying she had such a good reputation she wanted to snatch her up while she could. But nothing ever happened. I remember one day passing the nursery and hearing singing. Mrs Clarence was sitting there, rocking the empty cradle and singing a lullaby. It made me cry. I never told anyone.’
Hannah fell silent.
‘The nursery maid,’ prompted Belinda gently.
‘She was young and kind. I think she came from quite a good family which had come down in the world. I was given half an hour’s lesson by her each evening. Her name was Dorothy Friend, and she was a Quaker. A suitable name for a Quaker. I learned very rapidly. Then Mr Clarence grew impatient with what he called “this farce of a nursery” and she was dismissed. Mrs Clarence found her a post in another household. But by the time she was dismissed, I had learned to read and write and add and subtract figures. Sometimes, when I look back over my life,’ said Hannah sadly, ‘I do not think of all the people who harmed me, but quite often of all the kindnesses and wish I could go back and say “thank you” properly.’
She closed her eyes. But Belinda did not want to be left alone with thoughts of the marquess.
‘Did you always want to travel?’ she asked.
Hannah shook her head. ‘For a long time, I was content, working my way up. But when Mrs Clarence ran away, half the servants were dismissed and half the house shut up. It was sad and gloomy, and without guests there was little work to do compared with what had gone before. Thornton Hall began to seem like a prison. I would rise very early each morning, make tea, and then slip up to the drawing-room and open the windows and wait for the first stage-coach to go hurtling by, far away from Thornton Hall.’
‘Was Mr Clarence kind?’
‘Oh, he was a good employer. I wish he had been a better husband. Sir George, his brother, told me that Mr Clarence was always a difficult and moody man and it was that which had driven his wife away.’
There was a note of pride in Hannah’s voice when she mentioned Sir George.
‘This Sir George Clarence, do you know him well?’ asked Belinda.
‘Quite well,’ said Hannah. ‘He was most kind after my employer died. He arranged a bank account for me and he took me to tea at Gunter’s.’
‘Is he married?’
‘No,’ said Hannah stiffly.
‘But he took you to Gunter’s.’
‘As I said, he is most kind.’
‘How old is he?’
‘What questions you do ask, my child. Fifties.’
‘Aha!’ said Belinda.
‘And what does that “aha” mean?’
‘It means, Miss Pym, that a marriageable bachelor took you to Gunter’s.’
‘Sir George is an honourable and kind gentleman, that is all,’ said Hannah, suddenly cross with Belinda, but not knowing why. ‘Go to sleep!’
Belinda turned over on her side. Between a crack in the bed-hangings shone a spark of light from the rushlight on the bedside table. She stared at it, hypnotized, trying to concentrate on that pin-point of light and empty her brain of thoughts of the marquess. But the thoughts came just the same … What was he doing? … Did he think of her?
The Marquess of Frenton was being prepared for bed by his Swiss manservant. He turned over the day in his mind. Penelope had started to give orders to the servants as if she were already the lady of the castle. He had to admit he felt trapped. He had at no time expressed a wish to marry her, and yet by inviting her and her parents to
