The Second Lady Southvale Read online

  ‘Good morning, madam.’

  ‘Good morning, Annie.’

  ‘I’ve brought you your morning cup of tea.’ The maid indicated the little table by the bed.

  ‘Thank you.’ The influence of the dream was still around Rosalind, but she made herself sit up in the immense four-poster bed.

  Annie immediately brought her a warm shawl, which she placed around Rosalind’s shoulders. ‘The fire’s been attended to, madam, but it will be a little while before it heats the room up properly.’ The maid picked up the cup of tea and put it carefully in Rosalind’s hands.

  Sipping the tea, Rosalind glanced around at her new surroundings. The room was called the pagoda room not only because of the shoulder-high porcelain pagodas that stood on either side of the fireplace and the windows, but also because the bluebell muslin canopy of the bed had been cleverly fashioned to resemble a Chinese roof. The porcelain pagodas were hollow, with latticework panels, so that lighted candles could be placed inside. They’d been lit the night before and had cast pretty shadows over the blue hand-painted silk on the walls. There were tall mirrors on the walls, the glass carved with borders of peonies, and a particularly ornate cheval glass stood in one corner, its frame adorned with gilded dragons. Two bamboo armchairs stood on either side of the fireplace, their cushions made of the same bluebell velvet as the curtains at the windows, and there was a dressing table covered with frilled white muslin. Through an adjoining doorway there was a dressing-room containing a washstand and several wardrobes.

  The newly tended fire crackled and spat, but was already beginning to warm the room. Rosalind glanced toward the windows. She could just see the tops of the trees in Green Park, for the room was on the third floor. She’d looked out the evening before, and although it had been dark, she’d been able to see a wide terrace below, where the view of the park could be enjoyed. The distant noise of Piccadilly could be heard, but closer to the house, somewhere in the park, a flower girl was calling.

  Annie put some more coals on the fire and then returned to the bed. ‘Which gown would you like me to put out, madam?’

  ‘The green dimity, I think,’ replied Rosalind, wishing she’d brought a more varied wardrobe with her from Washington.

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  The maid hurried away to the dressing-room, and Rosalind watched her. Annie was very efficient, she thought again, but lacked that warmth that had set Hetty aside. She spoke politely enough and attended assiduously to her duties, but there was definitely something lacking in her manner. And if only she’d smile once in a while!

  Annie brought the green dimity and put it carefully over one of the bamboo chairs by the fireplace so that it wouldn’t be too chill when Rosalind put it on. ‘Will you use the green-and-white shawl with it, madam?’ she asked then.

  ‘Yes.’

  The maid turned to go back to the dressing-room.

  ‘Annie …’

  ‘Madam?’

  ‘Is there any word from Lord Southvale?’

  ‘No, madam.’

  Rosalind hid her disappointment. She hadn’t really expected any other reply, but had hoped all the same. If no one knew where Philip had been for the past few weeks, it wasn’t really very likely now that he’d return much before his appointment at the Foreign Office. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and then at the maid again. ‘When will breakfast be served?’

  ‘In half an hour’s time, madam. Lady Eleanor has already gone out, for she is to take breakfast with friends this morning, but Miss Katherine is in and will join you on the terrace.’

  Rosalind was startled. ‘On the terrace?’

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  ‘But isn’t it a little cold?’

  ‘There is a little rotunda, madam, with windows all around, and a fireplace. It is always used for breakfast if the weather is fine.’ The maid went into the dressing-room again and returned with the shawl, which she placed to warm with the gown. ‘Mr Beaufort will call later this morning, madam,’ she said, coming to the bedside again.

  Rosalind lowered her cup, wondering why the maid had told her. ‘Really?’ she replied, in a tone that was meant to convey her complete disinterest in that gentleman’s activities.

  ‘Yes, madam, for it’s been agreed that he will escort you today.’

  ‘Escort me?’ Rosalind didn’t like the sound of it.

  ‘Yes, madam. Lady Eleanor thought you would like to see the sights of London while she and Miss Katherine were otherwise engaged today, and so she requested Mr Beaufort to wait upon you. I am to accompany you as well, so that all will be proper.’

  The thought of being escorted by Gerald Beaufort was disagreeable in the extreme, for although he’d endeavored to honor his word to Lady Eleanor and had been the soul of civility during the remainder of the previous evening, the memory of his earlier conduct lingered. He really had been grossly rude and insulting, and that wasn’t something Rosalind was prepared to forget in a hurry. He was totally unacceptable to her, and she had no intention of allowing him to escort her anywhere. A suitably indestructible excuse would have to be thought up.

  About half an hour later, Annie led her down through the house to the terrace. The morning air was cold and fresh as they emerged outside, and Rosalind drew the shawl closer. The little rotunda occupied the southwest corner of the terrace, and its windows shone in the morning sun. A curl of smoke rose into the air from the tiny chimney, and as Rosalind drew closer, she could see the white-clothed table inside and the bowl of red chrysanthemums that had been placed in the middle. Gold-and-white porcelain caught the sunlight, and silver cutlery gleamed; it looked very inviting and pleasant, and she thought it all an excellent idea.

  There was no sign as yet of Katherine, and so Rosalind waited inside, gazing out over the park. The autumn colors were magnificent, for it was one of the leafiest parks she had ever seen. She was to learn that this was because the Tyburn stream passed below its surface, and it was consequently always well-watered. The park was roughly triangular in shape, and of an undulating character, with two shallow hills toward the center. It was bounded by Piccadilly to the north, and she could see a narrow, rectangular sheet of water by the park wall. To the south she could see the avenues of trees marking the commencement of the Mall, while to the southwest there was Constitution Hill and Buckingham House, a royal residence. There were gravel paths, but no flower beds, and almost in the very center, barely visible because of the trees, she could see a mound on which stood the remains of a very old building. She was later to be told that this was King Charles the Second’s icehouse, for that convivial monarch had liked his wine chilled in the summer months.

  As she stood there, a sudden movement almost directly below the terrace caught her attention. She looked down to see a postern gate in the wall bounding the property of Southvale House. A gardener was carrying a large terracotta pot containing an ornamental bay tree, and as she watched, he placed it very carefully beside the gravel path that led from the gate toward a wide walk that passed from north to south through the park. Other bay trees had already been carried out, and lined the path like sentries, and then she saw that other potted plants had been carried out into the park: ferns, citrus trees, and little conifers. The gardener returned through the postern gate, wiping his hands on his sacking apron, and he disappeared into a little stone building in the lee of the wall. A moment or so later he came out with another bay tree.

  A voice spoke suddenly from the doorway of the rotunda. ‘As you can see, Miss Carberry, we have our own private access to the park.’

  Rosalind turned quickly to see Katherine standing there, the orange ribbons in her little lace day bonnet fluttering a little as a stray draft swept momentarily over the terrace. She wore a cream gown and carried an orange-and-brown shawl. She smiled and closed the rotunda door.

  ‘I hope you haven’t been waiting for long.’

  ‘No, not long.’

  ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Ye
s,’ replied Rosalind untruthfully.

  ‘I’m so glad, for there’s nothing more disagreeable than a poor night after a long and tiring journey.’ Katherine hesitated. ‘To say nothing of a less-than-warm welcome,’ she added.

  Rosalind looked out of the window again. ‘I cannot deny that my arrival was greeted with some coolness.’

  ‘That’s putting it mildly. You mustn’t take any notice of Gerald, for he isn’t of importance, not anymore, anyway. And I believe what you’ve told us.’

  ‘I know you do, and I’m very grateful.’

  Katherine came to stand next to her. ‘I think Philip intended to tell us about you, but that something happened.’

  ‘What do you think it might have been?’

  Katherine sighed. ‘I don’t know. As I said last night, he was all smiles and happiness when he arrived, and then, all of a sudden, he was sunk as low as when news of Celia’s death reached us. Forgive me, it’s not really the thing to speak of Celia to you, is it?’

  ‘I cannot ignore the fact that she existed.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  Rosalind studied her, for Katherine de Grey reminded her of someone. But who?

  Katherine wasn’t aware of the perusal. ‘There must have been something in one of the letters that were waiting for him, I can’t see that it could have been anything else. It upset me to see him suddenly so unhappy, and I really did my best to cheer him up. As I said, I tried to make him tell me about Washington, and that’s when he described the ball at your home. It was just after that that he ordered …’ Katherine broke off, coloring a little and lowering her eyes.

  ‘That he ordered what?’ prompted Rosalind curiously.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  Rosalind looked intently at her. ‘I think it does, Miss de Grey. Please tell me what you were about to say.’

  Katherine drew a reluctant breath. ‘Very well. He ordered Celia’s portrait to be returned to the drawing-room.’

  Rosalind’s lips parted briefly and she turned her head quickly away.

  Katherine’s voice continued unhappily. ‘Just before he left for America, he had the portrait removed to Celia’s rooms, for he said it made him feel sad to look at it.’

  Rosalind didn’t know what to say or what to think. Yesterday she’d begun to suspect that Philip had changed his mind about marrying for a second time because he was surrounded by memories of his beloved first wife. Now it seemed that that suspicion may prove correct. She couldn’t help a wry, ironic smile, for she remembered what she’d been dreaming when Annie had awakened her. In the dream Philip had discarded her because of Celia, and from what she’d now learned from Katherine, it was a dream that could easily become reality.

  Katherine touched her arm apologetically. ‘I’m sorry if what I’ve said has upset you.’

  ‘I did insist upon being told,’ Rosalind reminded her. She gave a slight smile. ‘Perhaps I’d have been wiser to have listened to my brother …’ She broke off, suddenly remembering who it was that Katherine resembled. It was Elizabeth Mackintosh, who would have married John had it not been for the accident.

  Katherine looked at her in concern. ‘Is something wrong, Miss Carberry?’

  ‘No, it’s just that you’ve been reminding me of someone, and I couldn’t think who it was. I’ve just realized that you’re very like my brother’s late fiancée, Miss Mackintosh. He loved her very much, and even though it’s more than a year since she died, he’s still not over her.’ Rosalind smiled ruefully. ‘Perhaps he and Philip aren’t that much unalike, after all,’ she murmured.

  Katherine understood her meaning. ‘Because Philip has had Celia’s portrait returned to the drawing-room, and it’s well over a year since she died, too?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘Miss Carberry, if Philip loved you enough to ask you to marry him, then you may take my word for it that he’s recovered from any grief he felt over Celia.’ Katherine gave a rather irritated sigh. ‘Oh, how I loathed her! She was the very worst thing that ever happened to my brother.’

  Rosalind’s eyes widened. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said.

  ‘I loathed Celia, and she loathed me. Believe me, it was thoroughly mutual, although Philip never realized it. She never put a foot wrong in front of him, but when he wasn’t there, she was a chienne. I didn’t shed any tears when I learned she was dead.’

  Rosalind stared at her, for the conversation suddenly contained very clear echoes of another conversation, with Mrs Penruthin at the Black Horse in Falmouth.

  Katherine smiled, a little amused by Rosalind’s obvious astonishment. ‘I see no reason to pretend about Celia, Miss Carberry, for apart from always having been a difficult and at times unpleasant sister-in-law, she was also responsible for the singularly most wretched experience in my life. Did Philip ever tell you that I’d had an unhappy love affair?’

  ‘Well, yes, he did mention it, but not in any detail.’

  ‘I was a fool, I loved too much and too unwisely. Celia deliberately introduced him to a fascinating widowed countess who made me seem dull, and he left me for her. Celia did it simply to cause me as much pain as she could. She wrongly thought I was to blame because Philip refused to buy her a diamond necklace she particularly wanted, but I hadn’t said anything to him, he’d decided against it because he heard that the Duke of Newbridge was taking legal action to reclaim it from the jeweler, because it was supposed to have been stolen from Newbridge Place two years ago. Celia decided it was all my fault, though, and her subsequent actions were based on nothing more than spite. It all happened just before she left that last time for Ireland, and I was so miserably unhappy that poor Philip became quite anxious about me. Of all things, he tried to make her stay behind to comfort me!’ Katherine gave a short laugh. ‘She was the last person on earth I wished to have around me, and I was glad when she insisted on going. Miss Carberry, I’ve never let him know how much I disliked her, and I would be grateful if you wouldn’t tell him.’

  ‘Of course I won’t.’

  ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, although you are obviously surprised at my candidness, you don’t seem surprised at what I’ve actually said about Celia.’

  Rosalind lowered her eyes for a moment. ‘Mrs Penruthin also told me what my predecessor was really like. Celia wasn’t exactly popular at the Black Horse.’

  ‘I thought something must have happened there when she suddenly took to staying at a different inn. I didn’t believe her that it was just because it was more convenient to be down by the quay. What happened?’

  Rosalind told her, but without mentioning Dom Rodrigo and the rides on the moors.

  Katherine sighed. ‘Demanding a poor stableboy’s punishment? That sounds just like dear Celia. Oh, I still can’t believe that she so successfully pulled the wool over Philip’s eyes.’

  ‘Love is blind, or so they say.’

  They were silent for a long moment, and then Rosalind remembered that Gerald was supposed to be calling later. ‘Annie tells me that Mr Beaufort is going to wait upon me later this morning.’

  ‘Yes. It was my great-aunt’s idea.’

  ‘Not one of her better ones,’ murmured Rosalind with feeling.

  Katherine gave her a wicked glance. ‘But he’s so charming and pleasing,’ she said, her tongue firmly in her cheek.

  ‘I’d as soon be in the company of a snake.’

  Katherine laughed. ‘Well, I have to admit that I’d feel the same way, if I were you. But I also have to concede that last night he did seem to have repented, and he gladly agreed to my great-aunt’s suggestion.’

  ‘Gladly? I find that hard to believe,’ replied Rosalind, recalling how extremely unpleasant he’d been when he’d first confronted her.

  ‘He’d been called away from a winning hand, and gentlemen with mountainous gambling debts don’t take too kindly to such interference.’

  ‘That doesn’t excuse him.’ Rosalind paused. ‘It’s strange, but several times
last night, when he insisted that Philip wouldn’t marry again, I felt almost as if he knew something I didn’t.’

  ‘I know, I thought the same. He can’t know anything, though, because Philip and he didn’t meet when Philip returned from Washington. Philip was only in London for a day or so, and then he simply vanished.’

  ‘Hasn’t anyone any idea where he might be?’

  ‘No. I did wonder if he was at Greys, but when I sent a message there, Mrs Simmons, the housekeeper, sent word back that she hadn’t seen him at all. He could be anywhere, and it’s just not like him to be so thoughtless.’

  Rosalind looked seriously at her. ‘Miss de Grey, why do you think he hasn’t said anything about me?’

  Katherine met her gaze. ‘I really don’t know, Miss Carberry, I only wish I did. Since he returned from America he’s behaved in a way that’s totally out of character, but I’m sure he loves you. He wouldn’t have given you his ring if he didn’t.’ She turned quickly as Richardson entered, followed by three footmen carrying silver-domed dishes. ‘Ah, breakfast at last. I was beginning to think we’d been forgotten.’

  The butler bowed apologetically. ‘Please forgive the delay, Miss Katherine, but I’m afraid there was a mishap in the kitchens and everything had to be cooked again.’ He went to draw out a chair for her, and she sat down.

  Then he drew out a second chair for Rosalind, but as she took her place and unfolded her napkin, she was thinking about Katherine’s reassurance that Philip still loved her. If he did, why hadn’t he told his family and friends about her? And why had he had his late wife’s portrait returned to a place of such prominence? They were two questions that didn’t augur well for the future happiness of Miss Rosalind Carberry of Washington.

  14

  As Rosalind and Katherine sat down to their breakfast in London, Philip was still only five miles away at Greys, where he’d been all along. Mrs Simmons, the housekeeper, had been instructed to reply untruthfully to Katherine’s message, and all the shutters were still closed, continuing to give the impression that the house was unoccupied.