Leonie was alarmed. “She shouldn’t be moved,” she protested. “Not until a doctor has examined her.”
“Any examination which may be necessary will be carried out in the privacy of the seminary,” replied the headmistress, her eyes angry as they fleetingly met Leonie’s.
The hackneyman hurried to do as he was told, picking Stella up very carefully and carrying her inside. The girl whimpered as she was carried up to the bedroom, but as she was laid gently on the bed, she passed out, lying there very still and ashen-faced.
Joseph was immediately dispatched to the doctor, with instructions that after that he was to go on to tell Guy what had happened.
* * *
While all this was going on, Imogen and Nadia were paying a morning call upon Imogen’s ailing great-aunt, the dowager Lady Baswell, whose house was in Berkeley Square. Their duty done, they emerged into the snow to enter their waiting carriage. Nadia wore white, and looked coolly beautiful. Imogen was in brown, and beside Nadia’s blond loveliness she felt at a disadvantage; indeed, it seemed that she often felt thus when with Nadia, and it wasn’t a feeling she cherished. Imogen was forced to admit to herself that she did not often outshine her new friend, and it was galling, for why should a Russian adventuress be compared favorably with an earl’s daughter?
Nadia sensed nothing of Imogen’s jealous thoughts. “Imogen, has Edward mentioned anything to you about a wager he has with Rupert?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, it’s just that there’s something going on and I can’t find out from Rupert what it is.”
Imogen gave a short laugh. “Indeed, and here was I thinking that I was the only one to be suffering from the disagreeable reticence of the man I love.”
Her tone piqued Nadia; indeed a great deal about Imogen piqued her of late. “There is perhaps something else you should know, Imogen, since you’ve brought up the subject of reticence. This morning I was told that not only did Guy take Leonie Conyngham to the theater, he subsequently took her and his niece to Grillion’s for an intimate dinner.”
Imogen stared at her. “Who told you?”
“Emily Cowper, and she may be relied upon. It seems that Stella made a dreadful scene, and it also seems that Guy and Leonie had a very heated argument. She and Stella then returned alone to the seminary, which is when I saw them.”
Imogen looked quickly away. The carriage was now driving from the square into Berkeley Street. So much had happened that night, and yet Guy still hadn’t said a word to her. Why? She should have been exulting in the fact that Stella was again in disgrace, and Leonie apparently out of favor, but she gleaned little solace from the situation. Guy’s silence disturbed her more and more, for she didn’t understand it, and in this particular instance, what she didn’t understand made her feel very vulnerable and uneasy. She wanted him to tell her all about it, to leave nothing out, but she knew in her heart that he wasn’t going to do that. Eventually she was going to have to ask him herself, and she was beginning to wonder if she would like his reply.
At that moment they were passing his house, and Nadia sat forward suddenly. “Look, isn’t that the footman from the seminary?” She pointed as Joseph hurried away from the house after delivering his message to Guy.
Imogen’s every instinct warned her that this was a moment when she must be sure to be with Guy, for anything connected with the seminary meant not only Stella but also Leonie Conyngham. She quickly lowered the glass to order the coachman to halt, and as she did so she saw Guy’s footman emerge from the house, glance quickly toward the halted carriage, and then step hastily back inside. A moment later Guy himself came out.
Imogen alighted and hurried to meet him. “Guy? I was passing and saw the footman from the seminary. Is something wrong?”
He took her hand and pressed it quickly to his lips. “Stella’s had an accident,” he said. “I must go immediately to see her.”
“Oh, no!” she breathed, feigning anxious concern. “How very fortunate that I have my carriage ready and waiting. I can take you there straightaway. Come, we mustn’t delay.”
As he handed her back into the carriage, she exchanged a brief glance with Nadia, who had overheard everything. Nadia’s smile was inscrutable. Imogen sat back, her hand resting reassuringly in his. Unease still swept through her, but at least she had the satisfaction of knowing her intuition had been right. Now she would be there when next he came face to face with Leonie.
Miss Hart was waiting in the vestibule when Guy arrived, accompanied by both Imogen and Nadia. “Good news, Sir Guy!” she cried, hurrying forward, the blue ribbons on her biggin trembling. “The doctor has examined Miss de Lacey and it seems that she was merely concussed. No bones were broken and he is sure there are no internal injuries. He says she must rest in bed for a few days, and then she will be able to resume her lessons.”
He gave a quick sigh of relief. “How is she now?”
“A little shaken, but apart from that she is as well as can be expected.”
“Your footman said that she had been knocked down by a hackney coach. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
Her eyes slid momentarily toward Imogen and Nadia, whom she wished to placate after having felt obliged to refuse their demands concerning Leonie. “It…it was most unfortunate, Sir Guy,” she said, “for I fear that much of the blame must be laid at Miss Conyngham’s feet.” She saw the smile touching Imogen’s lips, and felt encouraged to proceed. “She had charge of Miss de Lacey, as you requested, but on the way back from church she neglected her duties by stopping to converse with an acquaintance and leaving your niece to walk on unattended.”
At the top of the staircase, unseen by anyone in the vestibule, Katy listened indignantly to the headmistress’s lies. The maid had seen the accident from a window, and she knew the truth of what had happened.
Guy held Miss Hart’s gaze. “Yes. Go on.”
“Well, that is more or less it, for Miss de Lacey wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing and she stepped very unwisely from the pavement directly into the path of the hackney coach. I had her brought inside and the doctor was sent for immediately. I also instructed Joseph to convey the news to you. I trust that I have more than adequately attended to my responsibilities.”
He didn’t reply for a moment. “So,” he said then, “you are telling me that you regard Miss Conyngham as being at fault, and that but for her failure to carry out her duties, the accident would probably not have happened. Is that what you are saying?”
She hesitated, but knew that she had already gone too far to withdraw now. Besides, it would be very difficult to disprove her word, for it was hardly likely that he would question anyone, and it was only to be expected that Leonie herself would deny culpability. She met his gaze as squarely as she could. “Yes, Sir Guy. I’m afraid that I can take no other view.”
“I see.”
His penetrating eyes seemed to see right into her soul, and in some consternation she quickly lowered her eyes.
Then he turned away, glancing up the staircase just in time to see Katy draw hastily back out of sight. “Miss Hart, may I see my niece now?”
The headmistress stared at him, taken completely by surprise, for she had fully expected him to demand Leonie’s immediate dismissal. Miss Hart didn’t quite know what to make of it, for she had done her level best for both Imogen and Nadia by trying to provoke Guy into taking matters into his own hands. The headmistress knew that had she taken the dismissal upon herself, even for Imogen and Nadia, then Dorothea would have been furious and might even have withdrawn her patronage. But Guy would apparently have had justice on his side, for his niece had been injured and he had been told that it was due to Leonie’s neglect; Dorothea would graciously accede to his wishes and that would be the end of it; everyone would have been satisfied. Instead, he hadn’t demanded anything of the sort; he had apparently decided to leave the matter and now wished only to see his niece!
Imogen and Nadia, their hopes raised by the headmistress’s clever ploy, were also bitterly disappointed, Imogen in particular, for she saw his reaction as further evidence that she had every reason in the world to fear Leonie. Her immediate impulse was to pursue the matter of Leonie’s responsibility herself, but there was something in his manner which kept her silent. She must be circumspect; there would be another opportunity, and when it came, she would seize it and put it to full use. She would destroy Leonie Conyngham.
Guy was still waiting for Miss Hart’s reply. “Madam, I asked if I could now see my niece.”
She almost jumped. “Oh, forgive me, Sir Guy. Yes, of course. Joseph, please conduct Sir Guy to Miss de Lacey.” She turned almost gladly to the footman, who had at that moment returned.
Imogen went with Guy, but Nadia suddenly and unexpectedly declined to accompany them, a fact which drew a curious glance from Imogen, who guessed that she had an ulterior motive. Nadia watched them go up the stairs and then turned to Miss Hart, an eyebrow raised expectantly.
The headmistress immediately took the hint. “Miss Benckendorff, may I offer you some tea? Oh, I beg your pardon, I mean coffee. Black, is it not?” She turned to beckon Katy, who was now coming down the stairs.
“Yes, black,” agreed Nadia. “Without cream,” she added stonily.
Miss Hart gave her a weak smile. “Yes, of course. Without cream.” She cleared her throat. “Shall we adjourn to the visitors’ room? It’s so much more comfortable and private there.”
* * *
Imogen was still wondering what Nadia was up to when she and Guy were shown into Stella’s room. Stella was lying asleep in the huge bed, her dark hair spilling over the pillow, her little face pale and wan, but it wasn’t at the child that Imogen’s glance was inexorably drawn, it was at Leonie, who was seated in a chair next to the bed. As Leonie rose immediately to her feet, Imogen’s anxious glance moved swiftly toward Guy, to gauge his reaction, and to her immeasurable relief, he seemed hardly to notice Leonie; indeed he looked straight through her. For Imogen it was a moment of almost unbelievable comfort, allaying so many recent fears and dispelling the unease so swiftly that it might never have been. She was sure of him again, she felt secure, but as she watched Leonie hurrying out, the need for revenge was still there. Leonie had caused her a great deal of anxiety, and that could be neither forgiven nor forgotten.
Guy went swiftly to the bed, taking Stella’s hands. She stirred immediately, her eyes fluttering open. “Uncle Guy?”
“How are you, sweetheart?”
The use of such an affectionate term brought tears of gladness to the child’s eyes, and she struggled up to hug him. “Oh, Uncle Guy! I’m so happy you’ve come, and I’m sorry to have upset you so—”
“It’s all right,” he said gently, holding her close. “It’s all forgotten now.”
Imogen watched in silent anger, her face devoid of expression, and the only outward sign of her fury was the tightening of her hands on her reticule. Dear God, how she loathed the child….
Suddenly Stella realized that she was there, and hesitantly drew away from Guy, her smile faltering. “G-good morning.”
Imogen’s lips curved into a tight smile. “Good morning, Stella. I trust you are not feeling too indisposed?”
“No. Just a little bruised.” Stella’s reply was halting. She could feel the other’s hatred.
“Perhaps in future,” went on Imogen, “you will pay more attention when you are out.”
Guy looked quickly at her, a warning glint flashing in his eyes.
She didn’t notice his reaction; she was too determined to put Stella in her rightful place, “I also trust that you will consider others and not continually give cause for anxiety and concern.”
“Imogen—” began Guy.
“No, Guy, this has to be said,” she replied, forgetting her previous wise decision to be circumspect at all times. “I saw how distressed you were when first you heard about the accident—you feared for Stella’s very life! Now we discover that the accident was in part caused by Stella’s own empty-headedness. It isn’t good enough, and I can see that even if you can’t. Which brings me to the matter of Leonie Conyngham’s gross negligence. I think you are very ill-advised indeed not to demand her immediate dismissal.”
“Imogen, I do not wish to discuss any of this, least of all now,” he said angrily.
Stella was staring at her. “Leonie’s negligence? What do you mean?”
“Come now, you know perfectly well,” said Imogen coldly. “She left you to walk along on your own while she gossiped with an acquaintance.”
“But that isn’t true!” cried Stella. “It just isn’t true!”
“I might have known you’d leap to her defense.”
“I’m not telling lies, it really isn’t true,” protested Stella, turning to Guy. “Please believe me, it wasn’t Leoni’s fault, it was all mine, I wasn’t paying attention!”
Imogen was relentless. “Are you telling us that Miss Hart is a liar?” she demanded.
Stella’s glance fled back to her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, if she said those things about Leonie, then she’s telling lies.”
“I don’t think so,” replied Imogen icily.
There were tears in Stella’s eyes now, and her lips were trembling. “She is!” she cried. “She’s telling lies about Leonie!” She turned away then, flinging herself against her pillow and bursting into tears.
Guy was furious with Imogen, his face pale and his voice as icy as hers had been. “I think you’ve said enough, don’t you? Perhaps it would be better if you withdrew for a while.”
She stared at him, a disbelieving fury bubbling up inside her. Without another word, she turned on her heel and left.
There was no sign of Nadia when she reached the vestibule, which angered her all the more, since she was determined to teach Guy a lesson by driving off in a dudgeon and leaving him to walk back to Berkeley Street. How
dared
he treat her like that! How dared he side with that odious, odious brat! She trembled with a fury so great that she forgot how uncertain and anxious she had been about him only minutes before.
At last she heard the visitor’s room open, and Nadia emerged. “Ah, there you are,” she said briskly, but then something about the other’s face made her pause. “Is something wrong?”