The Rebellious Twin (29 page)

“Let us calm ourselves,” Papa said in a reasonable tone. “No need to fly into the boughs and do something rash.”

Manning appeared from the back of the house, followed by Morris. He addressed Papa. “The groom would like a word with you, m’lord.”

Soggy hat in hand, Morris stepped forward. “M’lord, uh … uh…”

“Well, speak up, man,” Papa said gently.

Morris gathered his courage. “I be no teller of tales, sir, but this is about Jupiter and I thought you ought ter know.”

Papa’s benign expression vanished. “What about Jupiter?”

“Well, m’lord, she — ” he inclined his head toward Rissa ” — took Jupiter out on that ride and when she brought him back, she just left him, sir, not rubbin’ him down. Him and Captain. The horse was shiverin’ when I found him in his stall, sir, as was Captain.”

“Are they all right now?”

“Well, I’ve got me boys rubbin’ ‘em down now, but you know how horses is, sir, especially when they be in weather like this and then they ain’t rubbed down proper.”

“I do indeed,” Papa said with on-the-surface calmness, but Rissa could almost see his gritted teeth. He shot Rissa a glance that was so flat, hard, and passionless it made her blood run cold. “Thank you, Morris. You may go now. And when you get back to the stables, tell Timmons not to unharness the horses, but to bring the coach back around.”

Papa watched the servants leave. Then he turned to Rissa, glowering with rage. “You dared ride my horse, Clarinda?”

“I didn’t think you would mind. Papa, please — “

“And you failed to give Jupiter a rubdown?”

“Well, but you see, I thought Morris — “

“God’s blood!” yelled Papa, erupting like a volcano. “Nobody mistreats my horse, even you, Clarinda. You’re no daughter of mine and you’re going to North Wales. Now! This instant!”

“Oh, Papa, no!” Rissa cried. Sheer, black fright swept over her. This wasn’t the way she had planned things at all. Her heart pounding wildly, she flung herself at Papa’s feet and gripped the hem of his coat. “Please, Papa, don’t send me away! I am not Clarinda, I am — ” Reality dawned, but too late. How on earth could she explain?

“Not Clarinda?” Papa asked. He bent, ripped her necklace off, and examined the gold filigreed “C.” “Not Clarinda, eh?” he said, shaking the necklace under her nose. “Then pray tell me, why are you wearing this ‘C’?”

“I can explain.”

“Then explain,” said Papa. “But be quick. You’re leaving as soon as Timmons brings the coach ‘round.”

“But I’m cold, and my clothes are wet.”

“Your brother was cold, too, and Jupiter and Captain, but did you care? No!” A new surge of rage seemed to strike him. Blindly he strode across the marble floor and struck his fist hard against the paneled wall. “I want you out of my sight!”

Dear God, he couldn’t mean this. Desperation seized her as she begged, “Please, Papa, I really am Rissa, the good twin. You cannot send me away.”

Mama spoke up. “Indeed, if we thought you were Rissa, we might let you stay, but you’re not. Rissa would not dream of acting in this fashion. This is a continuation of your abysmal behavior, Clarinda.”

Papa stepped back, folded his arms, and glared down at her. “I shall ask again. If you are truly Rissa, what were you doing with Clarinda’s necklace around your neck?”

“I…” Oh, how could she explain? “It … it was a joke, Papa. I was playing a joke on Clarinda, but I guess it was not a very good one, and I’m very, very sorry.”

Papa looked beyond her, to where Estelle, who had no doubt been on the landing listening to every word, was coming down the stairs. “Come here, Estelle,” he said. “You’ve always been able to tell the twins apart. Tell me which twin this is.” He looked down at the cowering girl. “On your feet!”

Rissa’s heart lifted as she arose, knees shaking, and looked, silently pleading, into the lady maid’s eyes. Estelle would set Papa straight. She could indeed tell her and Clarinda apart.

“Of course, m’lord, I shall be happy to tell you weech is weech,” said Estelle. Rissa stood shaking as Estelle examined her carefully, taking her time, her gaze sweeping over her from head to toe.

Suddenly something in Estelle’s expression — was it that little quirk at the corner of her mouth? — caused Rissa to be seized by a fearful, desperate feeling. Perhaps I should been a little nicer to Estelle. She remembered the many times she had teased Clarinda for saying please and thank you to a mere lady’s maid. Clarinda never snapped at Estelle, and, to Rissa’s disgust, had always treated the lady’s maid almost like an equal. Servants were made to be yelled at, everyone knew. But still, perhaps she could have been a little nicer.

There was a strange, vengeful gleam in Estelle’s eye, as if she were remembering Rissa’s past behavior. With great deliberation, she finally spoke.

“What have you done now, Clarinda?”

*

When Clarinda awoke from her long nap, she had the eerie feeling something was wrong. She was not sure what, exactly, it was just that the house didn’t sound right. There were not the usual noises of servants bustling about, just utter stillness, until … is that someone yelling? Hurriedly Clarinda flung off her coverlet and slipped off the bed, noticing with relief that her headache was gone. She slipped into her dress, smoothed her hair, and decided to go downstairs to find out what was the matter.

Passing Alexander’s room, she saw the door was open. Hearing the boy coughing, she peeked inside. Alexander lay in bed, his face flushed with fever, his nanny hovering close by. Clarinda hurried to his bed.

“Oh, dear, you look sick, Alexander.”

He gave her a wan smile. “Not so very. I was riding Captain and it started to rain…”

Her little brother proceeded to relate the events of the day, ending with, “She told me she was you, Clarinda, but I knew she wasn’t, even if she did have your necklace on. I knew!”

“But why would she say she was me?”

Alexander shrugged. “I don’t know, but Mama and Papa are really mad at Rissa, only they think she’s you, and the coach is all hitched and Papa’s going to send her off to Grandfather Montague’s.”

“This very moment?” Clarinda asked, appalled. When Alexander nodded, she whirled around and hurried to the stairs.

Halfway down, at the curve of the staircase, Clarinda halted. Below was a sight she had never thought she’d see: Estelle smirking, Mama bristling, Papa shaking with rage. And Rissa! Her clothes were soggy and her hair straggling in a totally unfamiliar state of disarray. How strange to see the favored twin quaking before her parents, and in tears.

When Rissa saw Clarinda standing on the stairs she drew a sharp breath. “Clarinda!” she called, “please, please come down here and tell them who you are.”

Clarinda continued down the staircase, saying nothing, her mind in a whirl. Since childhood, she had suffered from the envy of her twin. Rissa had done so many dreadful things to her, she couldn’t remember them all. She most definitely remembered Jeffrey, though, and how Rissa had deliberately stolen him away. A blessing in disguise, she thought wryly, but she hadn’t thought so at the time. There were so many things, not only from when they were children, but recently. She’d had to take the blame when Cranmer kissed her. She’d suffered the consequences from Rissa’s impersonation of her at Lady Lynbury’s. And then there was the business of Rissa’s hiding the letter to Sara Sophia, and the heartbreaking promise she’d been compelled to make in order to save Sara Sophia.

And now this. Once again, Rissa had impersonated her, apparently with only one thought in mind: to get her into trouble. Serious trouble this time, judging from the absolutely furious expression on her father’s usually composed face. She didn’t know how, exactly, but apparently at long last Rissa had been caught in her tangle of lies and was about to be sent off to North Wales. How fitting!

And why did I allow her to do this to me? Clarinda thought back to all the times she had been a victim of this silly, foolish girl. She had been wrong to remain silent, thinking no one would believe her, nothing could be done. But she would not stay silent anymore. Rissa will never hurt me again.

With new-found courage, Clarinda reached the bottom of the stairs and looked at her sister, her mind churning with memories, a long-overdue realization, and a plan.

“What do you want me to say, Clarinda?” she asked.

Upon hearing Clarinda’s affirmation that she was Rissa, Papa, pointed dramatically toward the door. “Out!” he ordered Rissa.

The sound of hooves and jangling harness announced Timmon’s arrival with the coach at the front portico. Now truly alarmed, Rissa cried, “No, Papa, no, she’s wrong! I am not Clarinda, I am Rissa.”

“Out!” Papa bellowed again.

Rissa’s defiant expression faded, replaced by sheer horror. “But I have no clothes, and I’m all wet, and I’m hungry.”

Papa addressed Estelle. “Go pack her valise, quickly. Just a few things should suffice. Where she’s going, she’ll have no need for fancy gowns.”

Rissa, her eyes wide with panic, turned to Clarinda. “Please, please, tell them who I am!”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Clarinda answered with an insolent, Rissa-like toss of her head.

“Yes, you do. Please help me,” Rissa wailed, “I’ll do anything. I don’t want to get sent off to Grandfather Montagu’s.”

“Anything? Such as releasing me from my promise?”

“Yes, yes, anything! I release you from your promise. Now, tell them!”

A world of pain and frustration lifted from Clarinda’s shoulders. Her ploy had worked. Rissa didn’t know, probably would never know, that she would never have gone through with such an underhanded deception, deserved though it might be. With a deeply relieved sigh, she addressed her parents. “I had a reason for saying I was Rissa, but I’m not, I am Clarinda. Rissa has done wrong, but I know you won’t send her away.” With an ironic smile, she added, “She’s the good twin.”

Clarinda waited for her parents to acknowledge her admission of the truth, but to her surprise, an expression of deep suspicion crossed Mama’s face. “I don’t believe you,” she exclaimed. “Can’t you see, m’lord? Our dear Rissa loves her sister so much she wants to shoulder the blame. You must not let her.”

“I am not in the least deceived,” Papa agreed. He pointed again, glaring at Rissa. “To the coach! Your sister can tell all the lies she wants, but I know you’re Clarinda. The necklace proves it. Nothing has changed.”

Clarinda cried, “Papa, you’re wrong — “

“Silence! Not another word,” Papa roared.

“But Papa — ,” Rissa begged.

“Out of my sight! Be gone!”

Shocked into silence, Rissa slunk from the entryway, shoulders slumped in defeat, and into the waiting coach. Soon Estelle, attempting to look solemn but not succeeding very well, brought the hastily packed valise.

Soon after, Clarinda stared, astounded, as the coach and four rolled down the driveway, carrying “the good twin” to the farthest reaches of North Wales.

*

A pall hung over dinner that evening. At least Papa was in a slightly better mood, Clarinda noted, after he had assured himself that Jupiter had suffered no ill effects from Rissa’s neglect. Mama, too, was calmer. Alexander was comfortable and appeared no worse for his ride in the rain.

So far, Clarinda had said nothing. Better to wait until everyone had recovered from their shock over that dreadful scene in the entryway. As far as everyone still knew, she was Rissa.

Papa had remained silent until, over his claret, he looked at Clarinda and asked, “What was that business about releasing you from your promise?”

“It’s a long story, Papa.”

“Well, tell it.”

“I would be happy to, only…” Her parents would be absolutely horrified when they heard the truth, but they would have to hear it, and soon. She supposed now was as good a time as any. “Papa, I really am Clarinda. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. It was Rissa you sent away.”

Clarinda braced herself, waiting for her father’s astonished reaction, but instead, Papa offered her a forgiving smile. “You think I don’t know my own daughters?” he asked quietly. “I know very well whom I banished to Wales.”

There was a startling clatter as Mama dropped her spoon to her plate. Horrified, she asked, “You mean it was Rissa you sent away?”

“Yes, my dear, ‘twas Rissa.”

“And you knew it?” By now, Mama’s face was beginning to resemble a thundercloud.

“I knew it,” Papa replied flatly. “For some time I’ve had my suspicions. It seemed unnatural to me that while Rissa was continually a peerless paragon of virtue, Clarinda appeared to be evil personified. Tonight it all came clear. Clarinda has been the victim of Rissa’s duplicitous behavior for years. I recognized the ring of truth in her voice when she told us she’d had a reason for saying she was Rissa, but she was not, she was Clarinda. I believed her, if for no other reason than her eyes did not contain that hint of deviousness that gleams deep in Rissa’s eyes.” Papa paused for a wry smile. “Stormont’s a wise man. From the start, he could tell the twins apart. Now, so can I.”

“Well, I never!” Mama was obviously working herself up to a fine rage, but to Clarinda’s surprise, Papa cut her off.

“You can stop right there, Edwina. Rissa is spoiled, self-centered, and shallow, thanks, in part, to us because we spoiled the girl from the day she born. I should have acted upon my suspicions long before now. I let it go because” — he gave a self-deprecating shrug — “I knew you would defend her, and I lacked the fortitude to discipline her as she deserved. Today changed all that. Seeing Clarinda acting as bravely as she did helped me make up my mind.” He glared at his wife and pointed his fork at her. “I shall entertain no more discussion on the subject of Rissa. If she behaves herself, learns to respect others, develops even a modicum of humility, I might allow her back in due time. Meanwhile, madam, I shall not entertain one more word on the subject of Rissa. Is that clear?”

Mama looked dumbstruck. At another time, Clarinda might have felt a certain satisfaction in seeing her parents’ belated recognition of the truth. But not today. Too many distressing things had happened.