To establish the truth of the situation Kinsford was willing to have another go-round with his younger brother, except that he realized it would do little good. Will had fixed himself as Miss Driscoll’s champion. Though one could undoubtedly pick up bits and pieces from a discussion with him, there would be nothing definitive. The same could be said for any discussion with his stepmother, who knew very little about Miss Driscoll and apparently had no basis for an opinion about her of either good or ill. So how was he to go about determining the truth?
The scene he had witnessed on his ride home from the village was suspicious, certainly. One didn’t every day see a young woman having her hand kissed passionately by her “cousin” in the middle of a field. That was one thing he could do, Kinsford decided. He could find out who Steven Traling was, and whether he was indeed related to Miss Driscoll. That wouldn’t be so very difficult to do.
Nor would it answer most of his questions. But it was worth pursuing, just for discovering the truth of Miss Driscoll’s assertions. He had the most persistent feeling that Miss Driscoll played fast and loose with the truth. And if she played fast and loose with the truth, who knew what else she played fast and loose with?
But how could she be carrying on a liaison in a small village like Pennwick where gossip was necessarily rampant about any occupant doing something untoward? The idea of gossip suddenly struck Lord Kinsford as being very useful. Though he had agreed that no servant need be sent to Miss Driscoll’s house to help with Lady Aria, it now seemed the most necessary and salutary course of action. He would send a servant—Lady Aria’s personal servant—and subject her to the most stringent questioning on her return. He was so taken with the idea that he sent for her immediately, to attend him in his study.
The girl’s name was Betty, and she was a rather small, retiring sort of girl, though she looked vaguely familiar. Obviously nervous at being in his presence, she shrank back against the door as he outlined his directives.
“Your mistress has had a fall from her horse, as you know, Betty, and is staying at Miss Driscoll’s because it would be dangerous to bring her home. Miss Driscoll has only the one servant, Meg, and I think Lady Aria’s being there is more work than we should impose on the household. So I propose to send you to lend a hand.”
“Yes, your lordship.”
She rather squeaked this reply and he thought it prudent to inquire, “You have no objection, have you?”
“Oh, no, your lordship.”
“We want Lady Aria to be perfectly comfortable there. You’re to take certain foodstuffs that Mrs. Stalker will have ready for you. Probably we should send a pallet as well, so you can sleep on the floor of Lady Aria’s room.”
“Yes, your lordship.”
“Now, Betty,” he said, coming to the fine point of his instructions, “it’s very important that Lady Aria not be distressed by anything at this point. She’s had a concussion and at times may be disoriented. If there were anything ... unusual or distressing going on in the household, it would not be healthy for her.” His listener had developed a deep frown. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Betty?”
“You want me to spy on Miss Driscoll,” she said, wide-eyed and beginning to wring her hands in front of her.
“Not at all!” he insisted, stunned by her forthrightness. “That’s not what I’m asking, not in the least. I only wish to make sure Lady Aria is comfortable there. If the maid, Meg, for instance, hasn’t the time to see to her wishes or..."
Before he could continue, the little mouse drew herself up to her five feet of height and said with astonishing dignity, “Meg is my sister, your lordship. I know for certain she’s doing everything she can to make Lady Aria comfortable. If you was to suggest otherwise to anyone, I shouldn’t find it possible to remain in your employ. Your lordship.”
Poor Kinsford knew when he had been defeated. “I didn’t meant to suggest that your sister was doing less than she could, Betty. Not at all. She is a remarkable and resourceful girl from all I’ve seen. I just wish to help out in the household because of all the extra demands placed on it by my sister’s presence. Certainly you would be the best person to offer assistance. If you would be so good.”
Now she looked offended, as though he were mocking her in asking her permission. Which in fact perhaps he was, in an effort to maintain his own dignity. The whole situation was getting out of hand. He made a helpless gesture with his hands and Betty relented, saying with kindness, “Why, of course I shall go. There’s little for me to do here with my mistress there. If that’s all, your lordship?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s all. Thank you, Betty. Let us know if there’s anything you need there, or anything Lady Aria wants.”
She curtsied and disappeared. Lord Kinsford cast his eyes heavenward and sighed. Apparently putting a spy in Miss Driscoll’s household hadn’t been such a terrific idea after all. He would have to manage to find out the truth on his own.
Clarissa spent an equally long time trying to sort things out in her own mind. Her discomposure at Lord Kinsford’s appearance had surprised and alarmed her. Since she knew perfectly well that she was doing nothing wrong, there was no reason for her to color up at such an instance. She very much feared that she was beginning to let the earl distract her from her usual equilibrium. It had taken many years for her to achieve such serenity as she possessed and she had no intention of allowing Kinsford to destroy it.
Caught up in these musings, Clarissa did not hear Meg’s announcement of William. Her attention was captured only by movement at the sitting-room door where she found William observing her with patient concern. She rose from the sofa and impulsively held out her hand. “I’m sorry, William. My mind was elsewhere."
“Oh! I thought perhaps you were ill.” He shook her hand firmly and released it, still observing her closely. “Aria is a burden, I know. My brother is sending Meg’s sister, Betty, to help with her care. She’s Aria’s maid at the Hall.”
“That’s very kind of the earl, though I thought we had established that it wasn’t necessary.” Clarissa waved him to a seat and resumed her place on the sofa. It did occur to her that the earl had made this decision after seeing her with Steven; no doubt he thought Betty’s presence would inhibit such carryings on. The corners of her mouth twitched when she said to William, “I’m sure Betty will be a great help. She’ll be able to report on the situation to Lord Kinsford personally.”
But William had lost interest in the subject and only waited for her to finish speaking before he asked, “Where’s the dog? He hasn’t run away, has he?”
“Oh, no. He’s curled up beside Lady Aria again. I took him for a walk earlier.”
“You’re going to keep him, aren’t you? He’s such a nice dog.”
Clarissa thought her guest looked a little guilty saying this, but she assumed it was because he had dumped the animal on her with very little ceremony and felt a bit ashamed of himself over the matter. “I haven’t decided yet, William. But I don’t think you’ll have to worry in any case. Obviously your sister has become fond of him. I’m sure she’d be happy to have him with her at the Hall.”
“No, no! She can’t have him there!”
Clarissa’s brows rose in surprise at his adamance. “Why ever not?”
“Well, because...because she already has a dog. Puffin, its name is. And it wouldn’t like a new dog around at all. Not at all! And I’m sure my brother can’t want any more dogs. We have quite enough, in addition to Puffin.” He leaned toward her, color creeping into his cheeks. “Don’t even mention him to Kinsford again! It will just upset him. Not to be able to take the dog and all. He’ll not want to have to disappoint Aria, but I’m quite sure he wouldn’t be willing to have the dog around.”
“But he’s hardly ever there. What possible difference could it make to him?”
This reasoning apparently struck him forcefully. “Indeed. What difference could it make? Well, still, the dog would be better off here for a while, I think. Where it’s quieter and smaller and there’s someone to pay attention to him. Then later, in say a month or so, perhaps we could have him at the Hall. If you weren’t willing to keep him. Would that do?”
The whole matter was beginning to seem suspicious to Clarissa, and she was about to pursue it further, when William rose abruptly. “I think I’ll just look in on Aria and see if she’s awake. Have a word with her, don’t you know. You don’t need to come up, of course. I’ll just find my own way.”
Clarissa shook her head ruefully. There would be plenty of time to find out what William was up to. “In a month or so” was obviously his guess as to when Kinsford would be gone again. Clarissa sighed and rose to plan menus with Meg.
William peeked around the open door of Aria’s room and found her sitting up in bed with a watercolor pad on her lap and supplies at her elbow. “Well, aren’t you a picture?” he teased, coming into the room. “You certainly don’t look sick.”
She put her finger to her lips, a wicked light sparkling in her eyes. “You’re not to say that to anyone, Will,” she whispered, putting aside the pad. “Close the door and I’ll explain to you.”
Curious, he did as he was bid, returning to the rocking chair which he overpowered with his youthful energy. “What are you up to now?” he demanded.
“Well, to be sure I’m not really well yet. My head still pounds a great deal and my shoulder and wrist ache.” She shrugged such concerns aside. “But I’m not ready to go home yet, either. You must have noticed that Miss Driscoll and Kinsford do not see precisely eye to eye on things and I have decided that the longer I stay here, the more opportunity I shall have to get them to appreciate one another.”
“Sounds a rather harebrained scheme to me. Just as likely they’ll get on each other’s nerves.”
Aria tossed her head. “Little you know. Kinsford has threatened to stop my lessons with Miss Driscoll and I simply could not bear that. Now don’t spoil my plan, Will, or I shall do something drastic to you when I’m better.”
“I don’t see how you can make them think you’re sick much longer, Aria,” he said reasonably. “Your color is good, and you’re eating again.” This much was obvious from the empty plates on her tray. He indicated the watercolor pad. “And you’re even drawing again. Who would believe that you cannot be moved?”
“If I tell you, do you promise on your honor not to reveal my secret?”
Intrigued, Will nodded.
At night the village of Pennwick was almost totally silent. Its narrow lanes drifted past dark cottages, and not man or beast stirred. There were, in all, perhaps two dozen cottages in the village or close by and, for the most part, the men of the village arose early to work on one of the estates or farms, the women to join them or toil with household work and the care of children at home.
In the moonlight the houses of gray stone and red brick alike looked washed-out and insubstantial. The slate roofs and tall chimneys seemed suspended on little more than foolscap. Much more solid was the avenue of noble wych-elms on the road out of town heading toward Bath. At the other end of Pennwick was a stream thirty feet wide which was spanned by a triple-arched bridge.
Most of the cottages on the northern side of the village were joined one to the next, spare though charming, with ivy softening the roughness of the stone and sufficient windows to bring in the sunshine or moonlight. Clarissa’s house, on the southern side of Pennwick, stood apart from the other cottages in the lane, and was the last one before the fields of the local farms. Out front was her small garden with hyacinths and narcissi just poking through the ground. The tulips would be protected by a small box hedge, and the scilla would grow close to the ground, its delicate blue flowers the treasure of her spring garden.
Clarissa slept soundly as usual, secure in the knowledge that Lady Aria had had a good day and that the maid Betty was established in her room to watch over her in the night. The sighing of the wind and the distant creak of the elms were the only sounds disturbing the peaceful quiet.
So it was with heart pounding that Clarissa was awakened by a cacophony of alarming proportions. There were shrieks and groans, and an incessant sharp barking that sent shivers down her spine. She bounded out of bed, pulling on the dressing gown she had left on a chair at the foot of her bed. When she burst into the hall, flinging the door back so precipitately that it banged against the wall, she saw out of the corner of her eye a small object rushing toward her, snapping at her ankles.
Since her feet were bare and unprotected, she kicked at the intruder, trying to save herself from its attack. At the time, she remembered later, she wondered how a wild animal had gotten into her house.
She grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a lamp resting on a small table, and swung it at the charging form. Her reflex was good enough to cause the blow to glance off the animal, and it howled in surprise and pain. Only at this point did she realize that it was Max, the “sweet” little dog William had presented to her the previous morning.
By this time there were four people in the minuscule hallway at the head of the stairs, and Clarissa was the only one of them who was silent. Betty was crying rather loudly, and kept insisting that she had been bitten. Lady Aria, in defense of the animal, was assuring her that she could not have been. And Meg, as late on the scene as Clarissa, was demanding in a stern voice to know what was going on.
Max howled and cowered under the table and Lady Aria, imperious as Clarissa had never seen her, insisted that she would not have her animal treated in such a fashion. She sounded frightfully like her mother.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lady Aria demanded for the third or fourth time. “You will all be discharged from my service instantly. No one, I repeat, no one is to mistreat my animal in such a manner. He is worth the lot of you.”
The three other women stared at her. It was dark in the hall but none of them believed it was because Lady Aria could not see that she didn’t recognize where she was—or who she was. She stamped her bare foot and thundered, “Send Kinsford to me and be quick about it! He’ll have the lot of you packing before you can whistle a ditty.”