Authors: Anne Herries
‘No, I take after Mama in looks.’
‘Your mama was a great beauty in her day,’ Lady Sarah said. ‘And your father is still a handsome man—you would be fortunate to favour either of them.’
‘Papa says I am like him in other ways.’ Marianne smiled at Eliza. ‘Shall we go back to the ballroom together? I know most people here, but I always feel awkward until someone asks me to dance—and we have only just arrived because Mama was not satisfied with my dress and called the seamstress to make some adjustments.’
‘Your dress is lovely,’ Eliza assured her. Her eyes went to her employer. ‘You are quite comfortable, Lady Sarah?’
‘Perfectly, my dear,’ her employer replied. ‘Go and enjoy yourself while you can.’
Eliza nodded. She walked back into the ballroom, standing just inside the doorway at Marianne’s side just as Daniel walked back through the French windows. She saw him staring hard, watched his eyes narrow and the thin line of his mouth as he turned and walked into the card rooms.
Eliza’s heart beat rapidly. He was angry because she had refused to answer him, leaving him standing on the terrace. There could be no other reason for his hard look.
She was aware that more than one person had turned their head to look in her direction, but accepted that most were staring at Marianne Cheadle, who was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful girls in the room. Within minutes, she was surrounded by young men begging her for a dance, and when Eliza’s partner came to claim her Marianne was already dancing.
‘Have you known Lady Marianne long?’ her partner asked.
‘We met just this evening,’ she replied. ‘I am sure I could introduce you if you wished to ask her for a dance, though she may not have many left.’
‘I know Lady Marianne,’ he replied. ‘I believe she intends to marry a duke…but Accrington’s family is very high in the instep. They would cry off at the hint of a scandal.’
Eliza did not reply. Was he hinting that it would not do for Marianne’s name to be linked with hers? She felt a hot rush of embarrassment and almost missed her step.
It was so foolish. All this innuendo and gossip over nothing. Yet if it would harm Marianne, an innocent girl of unblemished reputation, to be seen with her, it must be avoided at all costs.
Eliza felt as if she wanted to weep, but would not allow herself to give way. She held her head high and managed to smile and converse with her partners as usual. No one else mentioned Lady Marianne and she told herself she was being too sensitive. No one knew anything for sure. She was not even certain herself.
Lady Marianne danced for most of the evening, but just before supper she came up to Eliza and took her arm.
‘Do say you will eat supper with me, Miss Bancroft.’
‘I ought to look after Lady Sarah—’ She broke off as she saw the Marquis of Cheadle staring at them. He was frowning as he came up to them.
‘Your mama wants you, Marianne.’ His eyes moved from her to Eliza as his daughter immediately obeyed his unspoken order. ‘Miss Bancroft. I have something I wish to ask you—would it be convenient if I were to call in the morning?’
‘Yes, of course, if you wish, sir.’
Eliza was relieved for it meant she would not have to go out of her way to speak to him. He seemed angry, though his anger was controlled, the only sign a flicker at his temple. He bowed his head and walked off, leaving her standing alone.
She turned, intending to look for Lady Sarah when a man moved across her path. Lifting her gaze to his face, she saw that it was Daniel and he still appeared to be angry.
What had she done that was so terrible?
‘I came to tell you that Lady Sarah is feeling a little unwell,’ he said, his mouth drawn into a thin line. ‘Her carriage has been sent for, but she wished you to accompany her home.’
‘Yes, of course. I shall come immediately. I was about to seek her out.’
‘What were you speaking to the marquis about?’ Daniel asked as he took her arm and steered her from the ballroom to the small anteroom where Lady Sarah
was sitting. Lady Julia and Kate were both with her, but she looked distressed until she saw Eliza.
‘Ah, there you are, dearest,’ she said and held her hand out. ‘Forgive me for spoiling your evening, but I have such a terrible headache.’
‘I am quite ready to leave,’ Eliza replied and took her hand, holding it gently for a moment. ‘I fear you have been doing too much, ma’am—or perhaps you are upset?’
‘Just a little,’ Lady Sarah admitted. ‘People are so unkind at times. Someone had the effrontery to suggest that you might be a fortune hunter and told me to be careful. I am afraid I was sharp with her. Give me your arm, Eliza. I am rather tired this evening.’
Eliza felt as if someone had poured cold water over her. She pressed trembling fingers to her lips.
‘Let me help you, ma’am,’ Daniel said and offered his arm. ‘I am stronger than Miss Eliza and you do look a little pale.’
He took her hand, placing an arm about her as he helped her from the Assembly Rooms out into the night air, which was considerably cooler.
‘That is better. It was rather hot inside,’ Lady Sarah said and he helped her into the carriage. ‘You are so kind, sir. I thank you for your attention. Please visit me soon. I do need to talk to you quite urgently.’
‘I shall call as soon as I return to town.’ Daniel looked at her in concern. ‘Would you like me to call a doctor for you?’
‘No, thank you. It is merely a headache. I shall be quite well once I am at home.’
‘I wish you better,’ he said and glanced at Eliza sternly. ‘Take care of your mistress, Miss Bancroft.’
The coldness in his tone and his manner of address
shocked Eliza. He had never looked at her in quite that way, and she felt his anger once more. What
had
she done to upset him? Did he think her a fortune hunter, as it seemed others believed?
The question fled her thoughts as she attended to Lady Sarah, finding her smelling salts and then her lozenges in her reticule. Her employer placed a lozenge on her tongue and sat back with a sigh.
Eliza looked at her anxiously. She had not realised how frail Lady Sarah truly was until now. Tears stung her eyes. She would hate to be the cause of so much distress to a woman of whom she was becoming very fond.
Lady Sarah was much recovered in the morning. She declared that it had just been a headache, but Eliza suspected that there was more. However, she did not question her employer—she would surely tell her if she wished her to know.
‘I shall stay in bed until noon,’ Lady Sarah told her. ‘If you wish to go out you must do so, my dear.’
‘No, I shall be here if you need me. The Marquis of Cheadle said he would call. He wishes to speak to me, so there is no need for you to get up, ma’am. I dare say it may be something more to do with the hold-up.’
‘Yes, quite possibly—or simply the invitation to his daughter’s ball. If I am needed, I shall come down.’
Eliza assured her she would let her know if the marquis had some message for her.
Cheadle came at eleven o’clock precisely and was shown into the parlour. Eliza rose to her feet, dropping a respectful curtsy.
‘Miss Bancroft. I heard Lady Sarah was unwell last evening. Has she recovered?’
‘She is better this morning, but resting. I can take a message to her if you wish.’
‘No, my business is with you.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Who are you, Miss Bancroft—and how well do you know Lord Seaton?’
Eliza was astonished by his questions and by the tone of his voice. She thought that he was accusing her of something.
‘Forgive me, sir. I do not see the reason for your enquiry. You know very well who I am.’
‘I know your name—but who are your parents? Where did you come from—and what are you after?’ His mouth was hard, his tone harsh. ‘If you have blackmail in mind, you should address me. Lady Sarah is too vulnerable.’
His harsh tone sent cold shivers down her spine. ‘Forgive me, I do not understand you.’
‘No? Then why is the whole of Bath whispering that you are Lady Sarah’s daughter?’
‘Oh…’ Eliza drew a deep breath. ‘I assure you I did not begin this rumour, sir.’ She hesitated, then, ‘However, I know Lady Sarah’s story…she told me of her child and the way her husband treated her so cruelly.’
‘I suggest that you knew it before you inveigled your way into her employment—that you are a schemer and planned this whole thing.’ She saw him reach for the little finger of his right hand.
‘No, sir, you mistake the matter. I assure you I knew nothing until the day you spoke to me about the hold-up and—’ She gave a cry of surprise as she saw the ring he was wearing on his little finger. ‘Your ring, sir—may I see it?’
‘What significance can my ring hold for you?’
Eliza hesitated, then, ‘Please wait one moment, sir. I have something to show you.’
She hurried from the room, rushing up the stairs to her own bedchamber, where she hunted in her drawer and then took out the ring that had lain for years in Mrs Bancroft’s sewing box. Running back down to the parlour, she held it out to him.
‘When I was a baby, the Reverend Bancroft found me in the church. He took me home and he and his wife brought me up as their own. Before she died, my adoptive mother told me about this ring, which she said she found amongst my clothes when I was given to her. It is, I think similar to your own…’ Her heart raced and for a moment she hoped that she might be about to discover the secret of her birth.
The marquis took the ring, looked at it suspiciously, his gaze narrowing. The colour left his face as he read the message inside it. She saw a flash of anger in his eyes and his voice was cold as he spoke. ‘Why should I know anything of it? It is just a ring—similar to the one I wear, I grant you, but I dare say many rings are made in this fashion. If you think to blackmail me, I must tell you that I shall not allow it. You may think that the way to reach me is through Marianne, but I make a bad enemy, Miss Bancroft.’
‘I am perfectly certain that you would, sir,’ Eliza replied, sounding calmer than she felt. ‘I would never blackmail anyone and I would certainly do nothing that might blight Lady Marianne’s chance of marrying well. It is, I am sure, mere coincidence that I was adopted. I do not claim to be Lady Sarah’s lost daughter—or yours—and I have said nothing to her. Clearly I am not her lost child—I understand that her baby was adopted in the proper fashion and that you have paid for its upkeep. My
parents received nothing, and as I told you, I was found in the church.’
‘I am not sure exactly what Lady Sarah told you…’ For a moment he looked uncertain.
‘I have already said too much,’ Eliza replied proudly, raising her head. Her eyes met his unflinchingly. ‘Even if I had some claim on the man who was my natural father, I should not make it. I had hoped to shed some light on an old mystery, but I see you cannot help me.’ She held out her hand. ‘My ring, if you please.’
‘I shall keep it for the moment,’ he said. ‘Your story will be investigated, Miss Bancroft. If I discover you are in league with someone else to ruin me, or to prey on someone who is dear to me, I shall see that you end your days in prison. You will say nothing of our conversation to Lady Sarah. You would do well to leave her employ and forget your dreams of riches.’
‘You are insulting, sir.’ Eliza raised her head proudly. ‘I ask for nothing but the truth. If you know more than you reveal and are my father, please tell me and I shall not trouble you again.’
‘Spread such a rumour and you will find yourself in trouble. I am not Lady Sarah…’
The marquis turned and walked from the room, leaving Eliza to stare after him with tears in her eyes. He had made his feelings very clear. He thought her a scheming adventuress. His reaction to her ring was so violent that she was certain he had recognised it. His anger and allusions to blackmail seemed to indicate that he had a guilty secret to hide. He had advised her to leave Lady Sarah’s employ—why? Was it possible after all that she was their lovechild?
No, no, how could that be? The circumstances were similar, but not the same. Lady Sarah’s child had been
adopted—Eliza had been found in a church. Yet the sight of her ring had undoubtedly affected the marquis. He had refused to return it to her—why? Was he afraid that she would show it to Lady Sarah?
Eliza’s thoughts were in turmoil, for she did not know what to believe. The marquis was clearly guilty about something—but what? If he was her father, he was not prepared to admit it.
He had told her that she would be wise to leave her employment. He had threatened her with exposure and imprisonment, but she had done nothing, made no claim on him or Lady Sarah.
Eliza’s eyes felt heavy with tears. How could she stay here now?
Refusing to give into her emotions, Eliza went up the stairs to Lady Sarah’s room. At the first opportunity she would find an excuse to leave, but not until she was sure the woman she had come to love as a second mother was quite well.
Lady Sarah was sitting up in bed when she entered with a writing board in front of her. ‘Has the marquis gone?’
‘Yes. It was just more questions, ma’am. Nothing important.’
‘I thought it could not be.’ Lady Sarah smiled. ‘I am feeling much better. I shall get up now and come down. I think I shall rest quietly at home this afternoon, but I should be grateful if you would go to the library for me and pick up one or two packages. You might wish to do some shopping for yourself.’
‘I do need some shoes,’ Eliza said. ‘I may look and see what I can find.’
‘It occurs to me that I have not yet given you your wages, Eliza. Please look in the top drawer of the
dressing chest and bring me the box you will find there.’
‘You have already given me so much,’ Eliza protested. ‘I consider myself well paid for what little I do.’
‘Nonsense. The clothes are my gift to you.’
Eliza fetched the box and Lady Sarah took out three gold guineas, handing them to her.
‘I am sure it should only be two guineas, ma’am.’
‘That was when I did not know you. I want you to be happy with me, Eliza, and you need money to buy the things necessary for your stay here. Please run along now, my dear. I shall summon my maid in a few moments.’