Carla Kelly (13 page)

He came no
closer, but leaned against the doorframe. “I don’t think my guests
will fall for any cock-and-bull story about a suddenly opened
door.”

“
I
think not,” she agreed. “You must tell them that you bent over and
caught yourself on an open drawer. Alpha did that once.”

“
Omega! That’s even worse than the door story!” he
declared.

“
Yes,
I suppose it is. Perhaps Hugh has told them something entirely
different by now. It only remains for him to return and enlighten
you. If you will excuse me ...”

She wanted to get
out of the room. Even after all these years, it was hard to stand
there and make polite conversation with the man she had wanted
beyond all bounds of propriety and who had left her at the church
door.

He made no
comment, only stepped aside.

She got no
farther than the front hall. Angela and Jamie came in the door,
Jamie bearing two hares, their ears threaded through a long cord
and draped over his shoulder. Angela carried a trout that
threatened to slide from the brown paper wrapped about its middle.
Both children dripped water on the carpet.

“
Oh,
Jamie, Angela!” Omega exclaimed as she hurried to them. “The chef
will be so pleased! But how wet you are!”

Jamie looked at
his uncle and smiled broadly. “Uncle, I hope you don’t mind my
saying so, but your hares are remarkably stupid hereabouts. I don’t
know that there is anything you can do about it,” he added
generously, to soften the blow, “but it ain’t much
sport.”

Matthew’s lips
twitched and he laughed in spite of himself. “This is not the best
hunting country, lad, for rabbits or otherwise. I go to
Northamptonshire in the season. Or rather, I used to.”

“
My
papa was a hunter.”

“
I
remember, lad, I remember.” The viscount clapped his hands
together. “But see now, Angela is struggling with that leviathan of
a trout. Wherever did you find this, child?”

Omega noted with
approval that when he addressed Angela, he got down on his knees so
as to look into her face.
How does he know children particularly
like that in adults?
she thought.

Angela struggled
with the limp fish, which slid out of her grasp and plopped onto
the hall runner. She tried to wrestle it back into the brown paper,
but the paper was soggy and disintegrated in her hands. Omega
thought for a moment she was going to cry.

Matthew must have
thought so
,
too. He took
a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the fish.
“There, now. My dear, did you purchase this beast?” Angela nodded,
too shy to speak.

Jamie took up the
story. “I almost thought we had one for you, Uncle, but it moved
before Angela could grab it.” He looked at Omega. “And do you know
what Angela did then?”

“
I
have no idea, Jamie, but I want to hear.”

“
She
went to the fishmonger and traded Napoleon’s prayerbook for the
biggest trout he had!”

“
Good
God, wherever did you get Napoleon’s prayer-book?” exclaimed
Matthew in amazement, and then spoke over his shoulder in Omega’s
general direction. “I wouldn’t have thought the Anti-Christ to
possess one.”

“
Perhaps I was not entirely truthful,” said Angela
scrupulously. “But I did pick it up on the Waterloo battlefield
near Hougoumont, and I think it was in French.” She lowered her
voice. “I do not read. Maybe it was Latin.”

Matthew got to
his feet and handed the trout to Angela. “Then who is to dispute
you? A genuine battlefield souvenir ought to be worth a
trout.”

“
That’s what I thought, sir. Come along, Jamie. The cook will
be wanting these.”

Lugging her
trout, she started for the stairs. Matthew touched her shoulder.
“And you gave up your souvenir for my dinner?” he asked
gently.

She smiled at
him, and Omega watched with delight as the dimple came out in her
cheek. “It wasn’t hard, sir. We—Hugh and I—we owe you something. I
hope you aren’t too mad at all of us.”

His hand went to
her hair. “Perhaps I am not so angry anymore. Now, hurry up, you
two. That horse show will be over soon, and my guests will be
wanting their dinner, provided they are still speaking to
me.”

“
Yes,
hurry, my dears,” echoed Omega. “I’ll be down in a moment. There’s
much to be done yet.”

Matthew held the
door for the children. Omega couldn’t see his face, but his
shoulders shook slightly, and she knew he was chuckling to himself.
He looked back at her and then at the sopping, smelly
carpet.

“
Come,
Omega, let us roll this up. It smells fishy.” She nodded and began
at her end of the runner. Matthew began at the other end, but in a
moment he waved his hand and sat down on the stairs. “I can’t,” he
said. “Every time I bend over, my face feels as though it is going
to fall out on the floor. What did he hit me with?”

“
The
only fist he has left, sir.”

“
Am I
such an ogre?” he murmured. “What on earth did you tell
him?”

Her confusion
returned. Omega lowered her head so he could not see her face, and
continued rolling up the carpet. “Very little, sir. Truly I am not
in the habit of idle chat.”

“
Then
I think he is very protective of you, Miss Chartley. You, uh, you
have a way of bringing that out in people, obviously.”

“
Some
people, sir. Shall I leave this here?”

He nodded.
“Michael will take it belowstairs.”

“
I
will tell him.” The dearest wish of her heart was to leave the hall
by the fastest possible route. “I must go help Tildy with the
silver.”

“
Very
well. And I will seek my bed again. I am sure Jamie will think I am
a granny goose, but my head is still ringing. By the way, Omega,
thank you for saving my cook.”

“
You
can thank Angela and her wild game,” Omega replied crisply. “Your
wretched cook took advantage of my lamentable French and kissed me
and pinched me!”

“
Oh,
did he?” Matthew began, a little light coming into his eye
again.

“
Yes,
and I’ll very likely have a black-and-blue mark.” She hadn’t meant
to tell him that.

Matthew rose to
his feet. “Well, I shall speak to him later. But you must own, Miss
Chartley, that you’re much less an antidote than Mrs. Wells, and
after all, he
is
French.”

“
Sir,”
she burst out, “I am twenty-six and much too old for that sort of
thing!”

“
I
know precisely to the day how old you are, Omega Chartley, and I
don’t scruple to tell you that you’ve rarely uttered a bigger
prevarication. And if you think that lace cap adds years and
wrinkles, you’d better continue to keep an eye out ... for my cook.
Good day, Omega. I am returning to my hunk of sirloin, which
Leonard is convinced will help my black eye. Do excuse
me.”

She watched him
go up the stairs and heartily wished him to the devil.

Omega remained
belowstairs, prudently out of reach of the chef’s hands. Tildy had
already divested the children of their wet clothing. They sat
wrapped in blankets by the fire as the maid spread their clothes in
the warmest part of the kitchen.

Before much time
had passed, Angela was seated on a stool by the cook, who was
speaking to her in French as he cleaned the fish. Omega was pleased
to note how eager he was to converse in his own language. Feeling
more charitable as she watched him work and talk to Angela, Omega
put his impropriety down to loneliness.

She could
understand loneliness, she thought as she polished Matthew Bering’s
silver. No other instructor at Miss Haversham’s school in Plymouth
had her background; for whatever reason of class or boundary, no
one had chosen to pursue her acquaintance, and she was too shy to
force herself on others. She had no friends at the school, only
colleagues.
And probably that is why I have become so used to
talking to myself
, she told herself.
Gracious, it only lacks
for me to start collecting cats and knitting useless tea cozies to
complete my spinsterhood
.

Perhaps that was
why she found the company of Hugh Owen so pleasant. How nice it was
to talk to someone again, someone besides distant fellow-faculty
and fubsy-faced children, pasty from long winters of inactivity and
too much heavy pudding. Her admiration did not end with Hugh, but
included Angela and Jamie.
How much there is to learn from
children
, she thought.
And how quickly they have become
indispensable to me
.

She finished
polishing the salt cellar and filled it, resolving to leave the
moment this matter of Jamie was resolved. She stacked a tray with
china for the table upstairs and started up the steps, careful to
keep a firm grasp on her skirts. How
did
servants manage on
stairs?

Omega lugged the
tray into the dining room, admiring the effect of the flowers in
the crystal vase. Oh, if this were my house, I would place a small
table under that window and there would be flowers all summer. And
chrysanthemums when the air turned cool, and holly during the cold
days of winter.

She arranged the
plates quickly, the ticking of the clock on the sideboard reminding
her that horse shows don’t last forever. She was placing cutlery
about when she had a lowering thought:
I have absolutely no
money. How on earth am I going to get to Durham?

She sank down
into the chair at the head of the table and rested her elbows on
the arms. If she wrote to Alpha for a loan, he would send her one.
He was scarcely a day’s drive away in Amphney St. Peter. This
thought was followed by a more chilling one. He would do no such
thing. Alpha Chartley, beloved Alpha, would demand her direction
and insist on meeting her in person to find out what kind of scrape
she had got herself into. And if he saw Matthew Bering, Alpha would
surely call him out.

Omega closed her
eyes and put her hands over her face. Dear, dear Alpha, gentleman,
scholar, father, who had never fired a pistol in his life. He must
never find out where she was.

She tried to
think what to do. The only other recourse was to apply to Matthew
Bering, Viscount Byford, for a loan. “Oh, God, I cannot,” she
said.

“
Cannot what, my dear?”

Omega jerked her
hands away from her face and opened her eyes. Matthew was standing
quietly in the doorway. He was dressed carefully in the elegance of
a country gentleman again, stock neatly tied, coat smoothed across
his shoulders without a wrinkle. He walked slowly to the other end
of the table and sat down. “Cannot what?” he asked again when she
did not seem disposed to reply.

There are moments
when only the truth will do. “I cannot ask you for a loan to quit
this place, Matthew,” she answered. “And I dare not tell Alpha my
whereabouts, for he would surely challenge you to a duel. I hardly
need scruple to describe the outcome of that to you,
sir.”

Matthew
considered her predicament. “If you cannot apply to me to bring you
up to scratch, and you don’t want to risk Alpha’s health, whatever
will you do?”

He was teasing
her. There was a twinkle in his eye as he leaned back in the chair
and regarded her. He was playing with her emotions like a musician
with an instrument. How dare he? She rose to her feet slowly,
horrified by the intensity of her rage. Had there been a pistol
within easy reach, she would have shot him.

He saw the anger
in her face. The twinkle left his eye and he sat up straight again.
“That was unthinkable of me,” he said. “I have no business being
unkind to you.” He waited a moment. “Oh, say something,
Omega!”

She could think
of nothing that would do justice to her feelings. There weren’t
enough words in the language. She could only shake her head and
hurry to the door, desperate to get belowstairs again.

There was another
look in Matthew Bering’s eye that she couldn’t identify. A chill
settled around her heart. She got to the door first and stepped
into the hall in time to narrowly avoid Twinings, who was hurrying
to the front door.

Hugh had
returned. Thank God. That would be sufficient diversion to allow an
escape. Besides, there was much to do belowstairs. Omega Chartley
chose discretion over valor, and fled to the safety of the
servants’ hall.

The dinner was a
total success, from soup to fruit. Tildy, Michael, and Twinings had
no time to comment as they hurried up and down the stairs, but the
look of triumph in the maid’s eyes told Omega that all was going
well.

Omega continued
where she was belowstairs, and Angela and Jamie too, shuttling
dishes from the kitchen to the table in the servants’ hall, where
Tildy and Michael bore them upstairs. Angela’s eyes grew wider with
each course that passed before her.

“
How
many people are up there?”

“
Four,
I believe,” said Omega.

“
Jamie, there is enough food here to feed a Spanish village,”
she said to her companion, who had been assigned the task of wiping
up any spills on bowls or platters. “And look how much they bring
down that is only partly eaten.”