The Mysterious Maid-Servant (12 page)

“Fitz will get over it,” the Earl said consolingly, “and by the way, it should keep him too busy to interfere in my affairs.”

“How has he done that?” Henry enquired.

“He taught Giselda how to play
Écarté
last night.”

“Good God! I hope she did not lose!”

“No, she won ten guineas, but it is a mistake for her to gamble when Julius at any rate would expect her to play for high stakes.”

“Of course it is,” Henry agreed. “I cannot think why the Colonel should be so stupid. Usually he throws himself into a part wholeheartedly and never makes a mistake.”

“Well, he has made one now as far as I am concerned,” the Earl said, “and I shall tell him so when I see him.”

“It is unlike him,” Henry said again. “I hear he was brilliant when he acted with Grimaldi, the King of the Clowns. George Byron who was staying at Berkeley Castle at the same time told me about it.”

“Was Fitz really good?” the Earl asked incredulously.

“He was so good that according to Byron he almost stole the applause from Grimaldi.”

“I wonder Grimaldi agreed to perform with an amateur.”

“The Colonel gave him and his son one hundred pounds as remuneration, and Byron said that the whole of Cheltenham turned out to applaud them.”

“I am not surprised. Equally I wish Fitz would leave my play to me and not act the part of benefactor to Giselda.”

“He will be too busy while the Duke is here to do that again,” Henry said soothingly.

Because Giselda felt rather guilty at refusing so bluntly to meet the Duke of Wellington, she ordered a special dinner for the Earl the evening after His Grace was to call at three o’clock.

She discussed it with the chef and chose the dishes his Lordship liked best.

He had taken to leaving the selection of menus to her, although he was extremely critical if her choice did not match his own ideas.

“Every woman should learn how to choose a good meal,” he had said, and Giselda realised that this was one of the many lessons she had learnt since she had come to German Cottage.

She talked to the butler, who advised on the choice of claret the Earl would enjoy most, and then changed into one of the prettiest gowns Madame Vivienne had provided for her.

It was of varying shades of blue, embroidered with diamante and ornamented with bunches of pale pink roses.

The Earl had thought it was rather an unsophisticated style for the character of Mrs. Barrowfield, but, when Giselda had put it on, she looked so entrancing in it that he insisted on buying it, even though she was as doubtful as he was whether it was suitable for a widow.

When Giselda returned from her drive, which she deliberately prolonged, she learnt from the servants that the Duke had left the Earl at six o’clock and his dinner was scheduled for half after seven. She went along the corridor to his bedroom at about twenty minutes past the hour.

She had realised that he was still angry with her, although they had not spoken again of the Duke’s prospective visit.

She only hoped now that His Grace would have swept away the Earl’s resentment and, because they must have enjoyed talking over their experiences, her sins of omission would have been forgotten.

She knocked perfunctorily on the bedroom door and opened it and then stared with astonishment at the empty bed.

She realised that the Earl had not recently vacated it and a little bewildered, she walked across the room to open the door into the adjacent sitting room.

The Earl occupied the main bedroom in German Cottage and it was part of a suite with a sitting room and another bedroom attached.

Because he had been in bed ever since she had known him, Giselda had hardly ever entered the sitting room. Now she realised it was a very attractive room with large windows looking out onto the garden behind the house and beyond there was a quite magnificent view of the Malvern Hills.

But for the moment she had eyes only for the man standing by the mantelpiece. It was the Earl and for the first time she was seeing him dressed.

“Good evening, Giselda,” he said in his deep voice, as she stood looking at him apparently speechless.

“You are surprised to see me up!” he went on. “But you could hardly expect me to receive my Commanding Officer except in my ‘best bib and tucker’!”

He smiled as he spoke and it drew Giselda towards him as if he was a magnet.

She had not realised that the Earl was so tall and so broad shouldered or that he could look so elegant and so incredibly handsome.

His frilled cravat tied in the very latest and most intricate style was a masterpiece from Batley’s clever fingers and, if after his being ill for so long, his coat did not fit quite as closely as it should, Giselda was not aware of it.

She was only entranced by the pale champagne hue of his pantaloons and by the Earl’s eyes twinkling at her astonishment.

“You must forgive me,” he said, “if I do not change again for dinner. I don’t mind admitting it was quite a struggle for me to parade in all my finery after being
hors de combat
for so long.”

“It has not been too much for you, my Lord?” Giselda quizzed him in a low voice.

“You are not going to compliment me on my appearance?”

“You look – magnificent, as I am sure you know, but I am worried in case you have done too much too soon.”

“I hoped to surprise you, and I have succeeded. Actually Newell said I could get up as long as I did not stay out of bed for too long.”

“Would it not be best for you to have dinner there?”

“We are dining here,” the Earl said firmly, “and I understand that you have chosen a special menu for the occasion. You must have been clairvoyant, Giselda.”

He spoke mockingly and she knew that he was well aware why she had taken so much trouble over dinner.

“Sit down,” she suggested hastily. “Do not stand unless you have to. I know Mr. Newell would not wish you to do that.”

The Earl obliged by seating himself in a high-backed armchair and Giselda also sat down.

“I had no idea that you intended to be up and dressed,” she remarked after a moment.

“I planned it after I heard that the Duke was calling on me,” the Earl replied. “But I have in fact been thinking of it for some days and now my time for being an invalid is over or nearly so.”

The thought came to Giselda’s mind that in that case he would now dispense with her services. But there was no chance of saying any more for at that moment the servants entered bringing with them the dinner on big silver dishes emblazoned with the Berkeley crest.

Giselda fancied, as they ate, that the Earl was putting himself out to be an amusing companion and to make her laugh.

He told her stories of the war and talked of his house in Oxfordshire and the improvements he intended to make as soon as he was well enough to go there.

“My father died when I was in Portugal,” he said. “I came home for a short time and left an excellent agent in charge, but there are a number of things which need doing that only I can attend to.”

“It will be exciting because it is now your own,” Giselda commented.

“That is true,” the Earl admitted, “and I suppose I have always looked forward to the day when I could live at Lynd Park and put my own ideas of farming into operation, besides making alterations to the house.”

“Does it need it, my Lord?”

`I think so, but then every Earl of Lyndhurst has thought the same thing – or perhaps it was their wives who thought of it for them!”

He went on talking, but Giselda could not help wondering whom the Earl would marry.

She felt there must be a number of lovely ladies only waiting for him to offer such a position to them and that after all the years he had spent in war service he would be happy to settle in the country with a wife, his horses and his farms to occupy him.

They had nearly finished dinner before the Earl asked her,

“Have you any plans for this evening?”

“Mr. Lynd wished me to go with him to the Assembly Rooms, but I thought I would really rather go to bed.”

“The new Assembly Rooms?”

“Yes, the ball is taking place tonight.”

“You are thinking of refusing to be present on such an occasion?”

“I will go if you think I ought to, but I would much rather – stay here.”

“How can you possibly say such a thing?” the Earl enquired. “When dinner is over, I suppose I shall have to go to bed whether I wish to or not, and because I am tired I will doubtless fall asleep. But you, Giselda, are young, you will want to dance and to see the excitement.”

“There will be such a crowd,” Giselda said nervously. “one thousand people are expected and – ”

She paused.

She wanted to say that she had no wish to go with Julius Lynd, then she thought the Earl would think that an extremely affected remark.

After all, she was only a servant whom he had appointed as his nurse and she had already incensed him by refusing to meet the Duke of Wellington.

How could she possibly explain that she did not wish to be present at an occasion when all the personages of distinction not only of Cheltenham but also from the whole county would be congregated together?

As the Earl seemed to be waiting for her to say something, Giselda finally murmured,

“Mr. Lynd said he would – call for me soon after nine o’clock. The Duke and Duchess are due to appear at ten.”

“Then you must certainly be ready for Julius when he arrives,” the Earl said sternly.

“I wish you could come with me, my Lord,” Giselda murmured softly.

He looked at her searchingly, as if he was questioning whether she was speaking politely or if she really meant what she said.

“I am too old for such frivolities.”

“That is ridiculous, as you well know,” Giselda answered, “and may I tell you it is what invalids always feel when they become convalescent.”

“Of course, you speak from experience,” the Earl countered sarcastically.

“I do,” Giselda said earnestly. “Everyone when they have been very ill feels that it is an effort to go back into everyday life. They shrink from it. They cling to the privacy and quiet that they have enjoyed in the sickroom and hesitate to take the first step back into the world outside.”

“You think that is what I am feeling?”

“I am sure you are! When you start talking about being
old
and not wishing for
frivolities
remember it is only a sign that you are getting better.”

The Earl laughed.

“I accept your most logical conclusions, nurse.”

“It is true – I promise you it is true!” Giselda declared. “In a short time now you will be longing to get away from Cheltenham, to do all the things you want to do at home and perhaps you will take on a number of important positions in the county to make up for the fact that you have no longer Regiments of soldiers to command.”

“At least I shall be free of being bullied and restrained from doing all the things I really want to do.”

“Have I bullied you, my Lord?” Giselda asked almost wistfully.

“Abominably!” the Earl relied, but his eyes were smiling and, when she looked at him to see if he was really serious, he laughed.

“You have behaved exactly as a nurse should, but I am not yet ready to dispense with your services.”

He saw a light come into her eyes and knew without being told that she had been afraid of this.

“We will talk about it tomorrow,” he said. “As a matter of fact I do feel rather tired.”

“Of course you do, my Lord, and if you had listened to me you would have had your dinner in bed.”

“I have enjoyed the novelty of sitting at a table and of dining with a very attractive lady.”

He raised his glass as he spoke in a silent toast, then rose a little awkwardly to his feet.

“Your leg is hurting you!” Giselda said accusingly.

“A little,” he admitted, “but it is to be expected.”

“Not if you had not been so foolhardy,” she retorted.

She moved nearer to him and put her arm round his waist so that he could rest his on her shoulders.

She could not help feeling a rather strange sensation, because she was touching him so closely and their bodies were against each other’s as they moved across the room to the bedroom.

Batley was waiting and, as they appeared, he came forward, saying,

“Now come along, my Lord, you’ve been up for far too long and you’ll get Miss Giselda and me in trouble with the doctor and that’s a fact!”

“Stop nagging me, Batley, and get me into bed,” the Earl demanded.

There was a note in his voice that told both Batley and Giselda that he was in fact exhausted.

Giselda left him to Batley’s ministrations and, when a quarter of an hour later she peeped into the room, he was almost asleep.

However, as she went nearer to the bed, he put out his hand and took hers.

“You are to go to the reception,” he said, “I want you to enjoy yourself – it is an occasion you may never see again.”

“I will go – if you want me to,” Giselda answered in a low voice.

“Promise me!”

“I – promise.”

Almost before she said the last words, she knew the Earl was asleep.

Very gently she took her hand from his.

His eyes were closed, at the same time she knew as she looked at him that it was not that he looked different, but that something different had happened between them since he had left his bed.

For the first time Giselda was thinking of him, not as an invalid, but as a man.

For the first time he was not someone who needed her care and evoked her pity, but a man, handsome and masculine and who she had dined with on equal terms.

For some seconds she stood beside the bed, then she turned and slipped quietly away.

*

The new Assembly Rooms were filled to suffocation and Giselda was thankful that she had no need to be ashamed of her appearance amongst the beautiful gowns and the glitter of jewels and decorations with which all the guests seemed to be adorned.

At ten o’clock exactly the Duke of Wellington, accompanied by the Duchess, appeared in the Rooms to be greeted with cheers and claps.