The Magnificent Masquerade (25 page)

"That's all right, Peg, I'll go,"
Kitty said. "I can't seem to fall asleep anyway."

She slipped quickly into her bombazine and
hurried up the stairs. She opened Emily's door stealthily to keep from waking
her, but Emily was not asleep. To Kitty's astonishment, she found Emily with
her face buried in her mound of pillows and her shoulders shaking with sobs.
"Emily! Good heavens! Are you in pain? Please, love, don't cry. I'll fix a
laudanum drink for you and you'll feel better in a trice."

Emily raised a hand and made a negative
gesture. "Everyone wants't-to ply m-me with 1-laudanum!" she wailed
into the pillows.

"I don't want any damned laudanum."
"Emily!" Kitty gasped, shocked. At school all the girls used naughty
words at some time or other (and when they were caught Miss Marchmont
administered the soap herself), but no one had ever heard Emily Pratt swear.
"What's come over you? I know you've had a bad fall, and you must be
suffering greatly, but-"

"This has nothing to do with the deuced
fall!" She tried to turn herself about and sit up, but the stiffness of
her hip made her swear again. "D-damnation," she muttered, still
choked with tears, "I can't even's-sit up by m-myself." Kitty helped
her into a sitting position and piled up the pillows behind her.

"Oh, poor dear, you look terrible,"
she exclaimed. "What on earth-"

"If I I-look terrible, it's all your
f-fault!" Emily blubbered, feeling about for her handkerchief under the
pillows.

"My fault?" Kitty eyed her with
surprise while her hands searched her apron pocket for a handkerchief.
"What have I done?"

"I should n-never have agreed to change
p-places with you! Never! If only I had r-remained at's-school, as Miss
Marchmont wished me to! Or kept my p-position as your abigail. But no ... you
had to force me to ch-ch-change places with you!"

"I'm sorry, Emily. truly. I never should
have done it." She found a handkerchief, pulled it out, and handed it to
her friend. "But what is it that's happened to upset you so?" Emily
stared at the handkerchief.

"There, you see?" she cried, holding
it up before Kitty's face. "It used to be I who had the apron p-pocket and
who supplied everyone with handkerchiefs and pins and n-necessaries. You're
turning into me, and I'm turning into y-y-you!"

"Just because I had a handkerchief in my
pocket? I think, Emily, that you're a little over-agitated. Not that I blame
you, considering the day you've had. But you mustn't permit one bad day to put
you in a pucker."

"Heavens, you even sound like me! That's
just the sort of thing I used to's-say'at the school! It was always I who would
c-calm the hysterics. Now I'm the hysteric!"

"Hush, my love, you're not a hysteric.
Come, let me help you lie down. You can drink a soothing draught of laudanum
and get a good night's sleep. You'll feel ever so much better in the
morning."

"If anyone mentions laudanum again I shall
scream!" She blew her nose vigorously and dashed away the last of her
tears. "It's not the sprained shoulder that worries me, or the blasted
hip, either. It's what's becoming of me."

"You know, Emily, if you keep this up, I
shall take offense. If you are becoming more like me, I fail to see why it
should so upset you. What's wrong with me, may I ask?" "Nothing. I'm
very fond of you ... and admire you, too. But that doesn't mean I wish to turn
into you. I can't afford it, you see. I was perfectly content with the prospect
of teaching school and playing the piano and living out my life at Miss
Marchmont's." Her face crumpled and the tears began to flow again. "I
didn't w-want to wear silk d-dresses and eat fine d-dinners and f-fall in
l-love!" she wailed.

"Oh, so that's it," Kitty said
knowingly. "Toby's at the bottom of this."

Emily, weeping into the handkerchief, merely
nodded. Kitty sat down beside her and patted her shoulder until the weeping
subsided, Then, when Emily at last became calm, Kitty washed her friend's face,
brushed her hair, and settled her back against the pillows. "I am sorry,
Emily," she said, sitting down beside her on the bed. "When I first
concocted this scheme, I thought I'd considered all the eventualities. But I
never anticipated this. "

"No, of course you didn't. One can't
anticipate all the possibilities. That's the trouble with scheming. One can
never be certain how things will turn out."

"Yes, you're right. My scheme has been
unfortunate for both of us. But I've learned my lesson, Emily. I've concocted
my very last scheme."

"Has it been unfortunate for you?"
She peered at Kitty suspiciously. "I don't see why. Surely Lord Edgerton
will not wish to have you for a sister-in-law after he learns what you've done.
That part will be just as you planned, will it not?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Kitty agreed ruefully.
"Lord Edgerton will not only not wish to have me for a sister-in-law ...
he'll not wish to have me for anything."

Emily didn't understand the answer, but she
didn't really heed it because a dreadful thought crossed her mind. "Good
gracious, Kitty, you haven't changed your mind about Toby, have you?"

Kitty snorted. "Just because it's bellows
to mend with you, my dear, doesn't mean the whole world feels likewise. I
haven't changed my mind. You may find Toby Wishart a paragon of manhood, but he
seems a callow youth to me."

"Callow youth?" Emily was so
affronted that she lifted herself erect, disregarding the pain it caused her.
"How can you say such a cruel thing?"

"I can say it, Miss Pratt, because it's
true. We servants hear a great deal belowstairs, you know. You have no idea of
the gossip that's exchanged over the dusting."

"You've heard some gossip about Toby,
then?" Kitty hesitated. "Are you certain you want me to tell you? It
may hurt to hear it."

"Oh, dear! Is it as bad as that? Well, if
it is, perhaps it will cure me. Fire away."

"Then here goes. I've been told on very
good authority that he kept a mistress in London."

"A mistress?" Poor Emily turned quite
pale. "I don't believe it!"

"There's no need to look like that, you
Puritan. I understand that such a thing is not uncommon among the fashionable
set. Besides, he doesn't keep her any longer."

Emily sank back upon the pillows. "A
mistress! That is the most revolting-! I knew he was roguish and somewhat fast,
but I never dreamed ..."

"Don't think of him any more, my
dear," Kitty advised, lowering the pile of pillows behind her and covering
her gently to her neck. "He doesn't deserve your tears. Go to sleep now.
In a few days, when you are feeling more the thing, we'll make plans to go away.
In a month or so we'll both have forgotten all about this experience."

Emily turned her head away. "I don't think
I'll forget it ever," she said sadly. "Not as long as I live."

Kitty blew out the candle. Oh, Emily, she said
to herself, neither will I.

Emily, alone in the dark, felt utterly
miserable in body and spirit and couldn't fall asleep. She had never considered
herself to be really happy at Miss Marchmont's school, but she now realized
that her life there had been quite pleasantly contented. And when she was free
to practice the piano, she'd felt as close to happiness as she ever expected to
be. But now she yearned to return to the modest contentment she used to have.
What made her present misery almost unbearable was her realization that even when
she returned to the school her former contentment would be out of her reach.
She was doomed to yearn forever for something-someone- she could not have. She
tried to tell herself that she couldn't really love Toby Wishart. He was a
rudesby and a spoiled child. He'd been sent down from Cambridge. He didn't
really like music. He was not well read. He even had kept a mistress! Of all
the horrid things he'd done, that was the horridest! There was nothing about
him that matched her vision of the man she dreamed she'd one day love.

But the truth was that she did love him. In
their last few times together he'd been so different. He'd been kind and loving
and tender and even sensitive. Perhaps that Toby was the real one. Perhaps, if
they'd been able to wed, she could have made him into the fine person he could
be. Oh, my dear, she wept in the wee hours of the morning, you'd be a better
man with me!

But healthy spirits do not wallow in misery
forever, and Emily was a young woman with a healthy spirit. She was determined
to find a way to lessen the depression that weighed upon her. The best way to
do that, she decided, was to get away from this house as soon as possible.
Kitty had promised that she would make plans to leave in a few days, but Emily
didn't want to wait so long. It was then that Emily sat up with a shocking
realization: she didn't need Kitty to scheme her own escape. She could devise
her own scheme! By the time the light of dawn crept around the edges of the
draperies, she had worked it out. She got out of bed and threw the draperies
open. She was astonished to discover that it had snowed during the night and
that the landscape was covered with a thick white blanket. She couldn't be
sure, but there seemed to be almost a foot of snow on the ground. And it was
still falling. This certainly was a setback for her plans. She sat down on the
bed and reconsidered. Perhaps she should wait for Kitty after all. Kitty was so
wonderful at over coming setbacks and obstacles. But that was just it! If she
wanted to behave like Kitty, she'd have to learn to overcome the obstacles
herself! Would Kitty let a snowfall deter her? Never!

With renewed determination, she pulled herself
to her feet, hobbled to the clothes chest, and pulled out the warmest garments
she could find. It took her a long time to dress herself, for she could only
use one arm, and every movement brought a sting of pain. But by the time the
clock in the hallway struck eight, she was fully clothed. Then she sat down and
wrote a farewell note to Kitty.

She'd barely finished when Kitty herself
arrived with her breakfast on a tray. Emily slipped the letter under a book and
gave Kitty a nervous good morning.

"Don't good morning me," Kitty
scolded. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Well, I'm feeling much better, you see,
so-" "You must be feeling better," Kitty remarked as she set
down the tray. "However did you manage to do yourself up?"

"It wasn't easy," Emily admitted.
"I've quite exhausted myself. I don't think I want anything to eat this
morning, Kitty. If you don't mind, please take the tray away. And if anyone
wants to visit with me, tell them I'm resting."

"I'd be happy to oblige, ma'am,"
Kitty said with a bob and a wink, "but you'll have to see the doctor. I
saw him coming up the stairs. When he sees you out of bed, he'll surely kick up
a dust."

But the doctor's reaction was admiring rather
than angry. When he saw his patient up and dressed, he smiled at her proudly.
"Y're a remarkable young lady, Miss Jessup," he said, taking her
pulse. "I didn't look to see you up and about for at least a week."

"I'll get her back to bed right away, Dr.
Randolph," Kitty offered, "and I'll keep her there by force if I have
to."

"No, no," the doctor said,
"that's not necessary. I'm no great believer in mouldering away in bed. Let
her stay up and dressed as long as her body allows it. If the pain becomes too
pressing, she'll know to lie down."

After the doctor departed, Emily convinced
Kitty (by using every ounce of tact she possessed) that she wished to rest
quietly-and alone-for the remainder of the morning. As soon as she was alone,
Emily propped the note to Kitty on the mirror of her dressing table, pulled out
from the wardrobe the cloak she'd worn on her arrival, pulled on a pair of
heavy gloves, and hobbled to the door. She was about to open it when someone
tapped again. "What is it, Kitty?" she asked uneasily. "I told
you I'm resting."

"It's I, my love," came Lady Edith's
voice. "May I come in? I must speak to you."

Emily, frustrated beyond words by this latest
obstacle, looked about her frantically. She quickly thrust the cloak under the
bed, pulled off the gloves and crammed them into the pocket of her dress, and
opened the door. "Lady Edith!" she said in breathless greeting.
"Good morning. Do come in." Her ladyship returned a feeble smile.
"I'm sorry to disturb your rest, my love," she said, "but I most
urgently require your assistance. A dreadful thing has happened. Alicia is in
hysterics, Hugh is in a fury, and I am at my wit's end. It isn't that I blame
you, of course, but-"

"Blame me, your ladyship?" Emily
noticed that Lady Edith's voice was unusually tremulous, that her hair was in
disarray, and that her shawl was slipping from her shoulders. Realizing that
Lady Edith was in a more perturbed state than she herself, Emily became more
calm. "Have I done something wrong?"

Lady Edith, with an agitated shrug, hitched her
shawl higher on her shoulder. "You could not have realized ... it is not
your fault. But perhaps you could come and speak to her. Or to him. Or to Greg.
Perhaps Greg might think of some way to straighten it all out. Would you, my
dear?"

"I'd do anything you wish, my lady, but I
don't understand just what it is you're asking me. Perhaps it would be better
if you sat down and told me just what has happened from the beginning."

"No, no, there isn't time," her
ladyship cried, seating herself on the bed anyway. "It's Hugh, you
see."

"Dr. Randolph? Has something happened to
him? I saw him only a few moments ago, and he seemed perfectly fine."

"Yes, I know. That's how it all started,
when he came in to examine you and found you up and dressed. He admired you so
greatly for that. So greatly!" The agitated woman pulled an already-sodden
handkerchief from the bosom of her dress and sniffed into it. "Then he went
to see my poor, darling Alicia, who had one of her migraines again and had
decided to remain in bed this morning. When he questioned her, she admitted
that it wasn't terribly severe, and that seemed to set him into a terrible
temper. He ranted and raved quite unmercifully. It was simply dreadful.
Alicia's migraine is fully blown now, I can tell you."