Joanna Maitland – Rake's Reward (страница 4)

It was clearly going to be difficult to argue with Lady Luce, perhaps even to get a word in, Marina decided. But, on this delicate subject, she must try.

‘Forgive me, ma’am,’ she began again, ‘but you must understand that the Beaumonts have never been acknowledged by the Viscount’s family, not even when my grandmother’s brother succeeded to the title.’

‘That’s because he was just like his father,’ interrupted the Dowager, with a grimace, ‘which was only to be expected, since all the Blaine men—’ She broke off to scrutinise Marina’s face for a moment and then said, ‘I see you know nothing about your noble relations, young lady. Well, I may choose to enlighten you—perhaps—one day. But there are other, more pressing matters. For a start, we must do something about that frightful monstrosity you are wearing.’

Worse and worse, thought Marina, but before she had a chance to say a word in defence of her wardrobe, the Dowager was laying down the law on dress, just as she had on the subject of blood.

‘It is fit only for the fire,’ pronounced Lady Luce. ‘Or the poorhouse. Though, even there, I dare say the women would turn their noses up at it. Have you nothing fit to be seen, girl?’

‘I do have one evening gown, ma’am. Apart from that, I have very few gowns, all similar to this one. What spare money we have must be spent on my brother’s education. Harry is at Oxford,’ she added, with sisterly pride, ‘and he is destined for the Church.’

‘Don’t approve of spending every last farthing on boys,’ said Lady Luce quickly. ‘You educate them, and where does it get you? Eh? Take your every penny and fritter it away. If it’s not land drainage, or enclosures, or something equally unnecessary, it’s fast living and loose women.’

‘Harry does not—’

Marina’s protest was cut short by another disapproving snort. ‘Not your brother. Don’t know the first thing about him. He may be a pattern-card of rectitude, for all I know. But the sons of noble families…’ Lady Luce shook her head. Her message was clear. The sons of noble families were not to be trusted with money. Presumably that also applied to her own son?

‘A lady has to be independent enough to lead her own life, in just the way she wants,’ said Lady Luce, warming to her subject. ‘Especially once she is widowed,’ she added meaningfully.

At last, Marina understood. Lady Luce’s unusual views on female independence were clearly to be applied to her own case, and probably to that case only. It was unlikely she would care about the plight of Mama, or any other gently bred widow who had fallen on hard times.

‘You give ’em an heir and your duty is done,’ said Lady Luce. ‘Least a husband can do in return is to provide for a comfortable widowhood. But husbands seem to think that the heir should have charge of everything, even his mother!’ She stopped, looking up at Marina once again. ‘And just what do you think you are laughing at, young madam?’

Marina had not realised she had begun to smile at the old lady’s spirited defence of her own interests. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am,’ she lied quickly, ‘I was thinking only that you reminded me of my own dear grandmother. I miss her greatly.’

‘Balderdash,’ said Lady Luce roundly. ‘You were thinking that I was talking dangerous nonsense, but that I could be forgiven my revolutionary views because of my great age. Well? Were you not?’

Taking a deep breath, Marina said, with sudden resolution, ‘Yes, ma’am, I was. I admit it. But I see now that your arguments should not be dismissed on such spurious grounds. You are obviously a redoubtable opponent, for woman or for man, and your great age has nothing to do with the case.’

Lady Luce gasped. For a second, Marina held her breath, thinking how foolhardy she had been to speak so. The Dowager would ring a peal over her head and then despatch her post-haste back to Yorkshire. But nothing of the sort happened. Her ladyship stared sharply into Marina’s face, now mercifully straight, and then said, with a crack of laughter, ‘Yes, you’ll do. Once we have done something about your wardrobe, of course. I shall see to that tomorrow. You are not fit to be seen as you are. Turn round.’

Obediently, Marina turned her back.

‘Again,’ said the Dowager.

Marina turned to face her once more.

‘Sit down, girl,’ said Lady Luce, nodding towards a low stool at the side of her chair. ‘It’s giving me a stiff neck trying to look up all that way.’

Marina allowed herself a small smile as she obeyed. The Dowager’s bark was extremely frightening, but Marina now fancied that her ladyship’s bite was a little lacking in teeth, like a pampered old lapdog, yelping and snapping uselessly at every visitor.

‘Now, Miss Beaumont. Tell me about yourself,’ began her ladyship. She was obviously pleased to see that Marina, once seated on the stool, was shorter than she was. ‘What do they call you?’

‘Marina, ma’am,’ replied Marina, puzzled. How could Lady Luce have agreed to employ a companion when she did not even know her given name?

‘Marina. Hmm. Unusual name, is it not?’

‘I am not sure, ma’am. I was named for my father’s mother, I believe.’

‘Foreign, was she?’ Lady Luce’s voice betrayed her distaste.

‘I understand so. I never knew her. My father’s family had served in the army for generations. All the women followed the drum.’

‘Your mother, too?’ Lady Luce’s voice had a clear undertone of disapproval now. She probably felt that such behaviour was not appropriate for a niece of the Viscount Blaine.

‘Yes, ma’am. But after the Peace of Amiens, my father decided that his wife would be better in England, since my brother and I were so small. We settled in Yorkshire.’

‘And your father? What was he?’

‘He was a captain in the 95th Rifles, ma’am. He died nine years ago, at the battle of Ciudad Rodrigo, along with my uncle.’

Lady Luce nodded in understanding. Marina wondered whether she, too, had lost loved ones in the wars. Many titled families had.

‘But your mother was provided for?’ Lady Luce clearly had no qualms about enquiring into the most intimate detail of her companion’s circumstances. And she would doubtless persist until she received her answer.

‘No, ma’am. At least, not well.’ That was true, though it was not the whole truth. ‘My mother supplemented our income by taking pupils.’ Seeing her ladyship’s look of surprise, Marina added, ‘My mother is very well educated, ma’am. Her father was a great scholar. He educated his daughter exactly as he educated his son.’ She smiled fondly. ‘Unlike my mother, my uncle had no inclination for scholarship. He was army mad, almost from his cradle. A great disappointment to my grandfather.’

‘Hmph,’ said Lady Luce. It was not clear whether she approved or not. ‘And who was he, this scholar grandfather of yours?’

Marina was beginning to dislike her ladyship’s sustained questioning very much, but she did not think she could refuse to answer. ‘He met my grandmother when he was the Viscount Blaine’s private secretary, I believe, ma’am.’

Her ladyship smiled suddenly. ‘And he was remarkably handsome, too, was he not? Tall, with fine features and dark hair, and a beautifully modulated speaking voice?’

‘Why, yes. Grandmama did describe him in much that way,’ Marina replied. ‘Did you know him, ma’am?’

Her ladyship continued to smile, a rather secretive smile, and a faraway look came into her eye. ‘Aye, I knew James Langley. All the girls were mad for him, I remember. Handsomest man we had ever seen…but quite unsuitable…quite.’ She looked sharply at Marina as if looking for some resemblance. ‘Your grandmother kicked over the traces for his handsome face, did she, eh?’

Marina blushed and nodded dumbly. Her ladyship’s salty turn of phrase was not what she was used to in Yorkshire with her very proper mama.

‘And her father cast her off as a result?’

Marina nodded again.

‘Just what I’d expect from that family. Don’t hold with such cavalier treatment. Don’t hold with it at all.’ Lady Luce shook her head so vigorously that a little cloud of powder rose from her wig. ‘If I had had a daughter—’

The door opened to admit the butler. Bowing stiffly, he announced, ‘His lordship is below, your ladyship, and begs the favour of a few minutes’ conversation with Miss Beaumont.’

‘Does he, indeed?’ said Lady Luce, frowning.

Marina was astonished. What on earth could Lady Luce’s son want with the companion?

‘I suppose I must humour him, in the circumstances,’ her ladyship said, grudgingly. ‘Conduct Miss Beaumont below, Tibbs.’

Wonderingly, Marina followed the butler out of the room and down the staircase to the bookroom on the ground floor. Perhaps the Earl wished to look over his mother’s companion, to decide whether he thought her suitable? But what if he did not? Marina doubted that her son’s objections would make any difference to Lady Luce, not once she had made up her mind.

The Earl was standing by the window, looking out into the street. He was several inches shorter than Marina, and noticeably corpulent. Unlike his mother, he wore the newest fashions, even though tight pantaloons did not flatter his figure at all.