She was deeply in love with the young Viscount and she hoped that in the event he did not marry her there would be no match between him and Virginia. She had formed a far from favorable opinion of the blonde girl. If George were reckless enough to enter into a marriage with the shallow and bad-tempered Virginia, Fanny knew he would be bidding farewell to any chance of happiness.
The weeks went by quickly and the romantic conspiracy between Fanny and the young Viscount continued. In late August there was a garden party on the grounds of Brenmoor and once again the household staff were unusually busy. She could not help but notice that Virginia, in a pale blue gown in the latest style and wearing a wide brimmed hat of blue with trailing silk ribbons to match, was much in evidence at the garden party, and that a good deal of the time she was on the arm of Viscount George.
The young man did not seem at all unhappy in the company of the shallow, vivacious girl; in fact it seemed to Fanny that he was enjoying himself. Since he was called to London on a mission for his father the next day she did not have a chance to discuss this with him. But the next evening she heard a discussion in the servants quarters between her cousin Lily and Marsden which set her to thinking. She was seated in a corner of the big kitchen near the two and could not help overhearing what was said.
Marsden, settled back in a rocking chair with a pipe in hand, told the stout cook, “I happened to be in the drawing room this morning when the Marquis was talking to the Reverend Kenneth.”
“I saw the Bishop was here for the Garden Party,” Cousin Lily said with a smile as she kept busily knitting on a sweater which she wanted finished before the autumn came in.
“It was not about the Bishop they were talking,” Marsden said. “The Marquis was discussing the coming public announcement of the Viscount’s marriage to Sir Matthew’s daughter!”
Cousin Lily halted her knitting and leaned forward. “Did you really hear them discussing that? I was beginning to think it might not happen for some reason.”
The dignified Marsden said, “That is what the Marquis was saying. That the marriage had been delayed too long. He wants it to happen at once and he was talking to the Reverend Kenneth about using the Cathedral for the ceremony.”
“That would be proper,” Cousin Lily agreed solemnly.
“Reverend Kenneth did not seem enthusiastic. But then you know he and the Viscount don’t get along! No love lost between those two brothers.”
The cook sighed. “The Reverend Kenneth is so filled with Christian indignation, nearly everything offends him. He thinks George leads too loose a life!”
“Aye,” Marsden agreed. “Now, Charles and George get on a deal better. They are truly fond of each other. But that Kenneth is an odd one!”
“It is so!”
“At any rate, the Reverend Kenneth promised to speak with the Bishop after the Marquis pointed out that the Queen and her consort might actually attend!”
“Victoria and Albert! Think of that!” Lily said with awe.
Marsden gave her a critical glance. “And why not? The Marquis and Sir Matthew are both advisors to Her Majesty. She should be at the ceremony which unites the two families.”
Cousin Lily said, “Then it is only a matter of setting the date!”
“It is!” Marsden said, emphatically placing his pipe back in his mouth.
Fanny fled from the room and made her way upstairs. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she stepped out the service entrance to a deserted section where deliveries were made during the day. The news had shocked her, though she might have expected it. She could not entirely blame George for not telling her, for it was possible that he knew as little about this latest development as she did. His father might well be forging ahead with the wedding plans, expecting to discuss them with George when all was settled.
She was sure it was the end of their happy summer romance. Tomorrow was her afternoon off, and as usual, she had promised to meet George in the deserted cottage at the other end of the estate. He had assured her he would be certain to be back from London by then. Her throat choking with pain, she decided she would keep the rendezvous, but it would be the last. She must begin to make other plans.
When she had recovered from her first overwhelming sorrow she went inside and started slowly up the stairs to her room. On the first landing she met Dora Carson on her way down. The pleasant poor relation of the Palmer family halted to speak with her.
“You look pale, Fanny,” the dark-haired girl said.
Fanny said, “I expect I’m tired after the party yesterday.” She hoped the signs of her tears didn’t show.
“It did make a lot of extra work for the staff,” Dora agreed. “Thank goodness such affairs don’t happen too often.”
“That is true, Miss,” Fanny agreed.
Dora leaned forward to her confidentially to add, “From all that I hear we may be faced with another special occasion soon!”
“Oh?” she said.
Dora nodded. “The Marquis is getting impatient! He is trying to rush the marriage between the Viscount and Virginia Andrews!”
Fanny said, “You have heard this?”
“It’s a fact. So be prepared!”
Fanny said bitterly, “If he must marry, why must it be that silly miss with her love for gin!”
Dora looked shocked. “How do you know that?”
“About the gin? I saw her at it in her room!”
Dora’s pretty face shadowed. “It is all too true. People have begun to notice and talk about her frequently drinking too much. And one so young! I’m sure her parents are hoping marriage will cure her!”
“It won’t!” Fanny said unhappily.
“I agree,” Dora replied with concern. “If only George would wake up and assert himself before it is too late. I fear he’ll go through with it meekly because of Virginia’s pretty face and the family’s desire to please the Queen. Her Majesty has heard of the match and approves of it!”
“Bother the Queen! She ought not to interfere!” Fanny exclaimed.
“You do have spirit, Fanny!” Dora said with a smile of admiration. “Well, never mind, perhaps it will all turn out better than we think.”
“I hope so, miss,” Fanny said, the irony of it being that despite all this, Dora did not guess that she and George were lovers.
• • •
The next day Fanny could hardly wait to finish with luncheon and leave the mansion for a few hours. The luncheon dishes finished, she went upstairs and washed and changed into a simple but attractive print dress which was George’s favorite. Surveying herself in the mirror in the hall as she went downstairs she thought moodily that she was certainly not stylish like Virginia, although she carried a tiny white parasol against the sun and wore a small straw hat decorated with blue flowers. As she stepped out the side door Captain Charles came riding up on a dappled gray mare. He waved to her and dismounted. She didn’t want to talk to him as she was on her way to meet George but he handed the reins over to a lackey and came directly up to her.
“By Jupiter, you look lovely this afternoon, Fanny,” the young officer complimented her. “You ought to have dressed like that for the Garden Party instead of wearing your maid’s uniform!”
She managed a small smile. “But I am a maid, sir.”
“So you are,” he agreed. “And a pretty one! Where are you off to?”
Trying to hide her blushing, she said, “To shop and see some friends!”
Charles winked at her knowingly. “See some friends! Now what might that mean? Some young man, I’ll venture!”
She looked at Charles, immaculately turned out in his uniform, and thought how much he resembled George, though he was less handsome. She said, “There are other things in life besides men!”
“True!” Charles agreed, holding his riding crop in his hands. “But don’t deceive yourself! The game between male and female is most important! You’ll find yourself playing it whether you wish it or not!”
“I shall remember that,” she promised.
“I was thinking of you yesterday during the party,” he said. “Wishing that you might brighten the dullness of the affair by singing for us as you did that night a few months ago at the party for the Prince.”
She said, “I shall not likely forget my place again.”
“You did not forget your place,” he protested. “It all seemed quite right. You were the equal of any lady present. I still remember you in that dress.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Now, I really must go.”
“Have a pleasant afternoon, Fanny,” the young man said. “I wish I could go along with you.”
“That would never do, sir,” she said.
“Perhaps not,” he declared with a sigh. “Why is it such a stuffy world, Fanny? Things would be so much simpler if it weren’t!”
“I’m sure I’m not wise enough to answer that, sir,” she said. “Good afternoon!” And she hurried on her way.
Ten minutes later she was walking quickly along the narrow woods road which led to the isolated cottage. It was shaded and pleasantly cool here and she closed her parasol and held her bonnet in her hand. She hoped that Charles had not guessed her destination or whom she was meeting!
The cottage door was open and her pulse began to beat more quickly at the prospect of seeing George. She hurried to the doorway and saw him standing inside with his arms stretched out to receive her. She was filled with a mixture of pain and joy as she ran to him. He held her close to him, his lips on hers.
Releasing her, he said, “Every minute seemed an hour! I rushed to get back from London. I’ve been waiting here more than a half-hour.”
“I was delayed,” she said. “Charles met me on the way out and kept me talking.”
The Viscount raised his eyebrows. “What did my brother want?”
“Nothing,” she said. “He just talked in a friendly way.”
“Do you think he had any idea you were coming here to meet me?”
“I can’t imagine why he should,” she said, looking up into his handsome face wistfully. “Would you care very much if he did know?”
“I’d be proud!” George said with a sudden smile, taking her in his arms again. “I’ve an idea Charles has his eye on you as well. It’s no good! You’re spoken for!”
“Am I, truly?” she asked.
“Truly,” he said. And, his arm around her, he took her into the bedroom of the cottage.
She offered no resistance. She had thought it over and decided they would have this final beautiful moment before she told him of what she’d heard. She trembled as he undid her clothing with a skill born of familiarity. He had also become familiar with her lovely body and the areas of eroticism which most excited her.
In a few moments their naked bodies united in the expression of their passion which had become so precious to them. Fanny was brazen in her enjoyment of the coupling. When it was over they lay together on the narrow bed delightfully exhausted. George slept for a little.
When he wakened she had dressed and was sitting on the bed beside him. He frowned. “Is it so late? Must you go so soon?”
“I do have to leave,” she said. “And there is something to discuss before I go.”
The handsome Viscount leaned on an elbow, a single sheet covering his slender body. “What is wrong, Fanny? Something! I can tell.”
Then she told him. She finished with, “Have you been deceiving me all along? Have you always known this marriage was to happen?”
He sat up and seized her by the arms. “How can you believe that of me, Fanny? You know it is only you I love!”
“You were attentive to Virginia at the party yesterday.”
He made a weary gesture. “Only to please my father!”
“Perhaps you will also marry her to please him,” she suggested.
“Never!” he said.
She looked at him directly. “You have never told him about me?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“Do you intend to?”
“Yes,” he exclaimed, his handsome face showing his unhappiness. “I agree I have put it off too long, and I give you my word that I shall face him with it and have it settled.”
Quietly, she said, “I have enjoyed this as much as you have, George. You do not have to marry me because I have given myself to you. I do not hold you to any bargain!”
“You do not need it,” he said. “I have never felt for Virginia what I feel for you. To marry her would be a sham! I want no part of it!”
She could not doubt his sincerity and she threw her arms about him. Their embrace was long and deeply felt. And when she left him she once again hoped they might share some sort of future together.
This hope was bolstered by the fact that in the weeks following there was no announcement of a marriage between Virginia and the Viscount. She continued to meet George secretly and they kept their usual midnight trysts in her bedroom. When she asked him if he had spoken to his father, he told her he had managed to postpone the wedding with Virginia on the grounds that he loved another. As yet he had not revealed that the woman he loved was Fanny.
“My father is old and quick-tempered,” George warned her. “I must do this gradually. I understand him. It is the only way.”
She accepted this as reasonable. The shock of learning that his son wished to marry a servant in his house would be difficult for the proud old man.
Then something happened which terrified her. The Reverend Kenneth Palmer continued to divide his time between his duties at the cathedral and living in the old mansion with his family. He moved about the great house like a grim raven in his dark clerical garb and white collar. His hawk-like face was always set in a grim expression and often as he talked with anyone he fingered the golden cross he wore around his neck as if to ward off evil, worldly spirits.
Fanny felt he reserved some of his most formidable frowns for her. Yet she was startled when he came upon her suddenly in one of the shadowed upper corridors as she was coming from doing up a bedroom. The ascetic young cleric seized her by the arm and spoke to her in a low voice.
“You are a daughter of wickedness!” he hissed at her.
Tensely, she tried to draw away from him. “What do you mean, sir?”
“Don’t try your evil wiles on me, girl!” he snapped. “I know you for the harlot you are!”
“Sir!” she reproved him.
“Do not deny it,” he said, his eyes shining fanatically, his face distorted with hatred. “You are the sort which brought about the fall of Sodom and Gomorrah!”