the alternative bride 9

 

 

Chapter 9

 

“So, Mr. Dauntry, let us see whether you can explain to me the apparent peculation of the heiress’s account,” purred Belwether.

“Really, Mr. Eversfield! That sounds suspiciously like an accusation of theft from my step-daughter!” spluttered Dauntry.

“That’s because it is an accusation of theft,” said Belwether. “The bank has you drawing three hundred pounds for the girl’s upkeep, and I understand from her husband, my client, that she hasn’t a ballgown to her name, nor even any clothing fit for any but an upper servant.”

“Well, my wife said it was what was needed for the chit, and she’s a woman so I left it to her,” said Dauntry, sulkily.

“Oh? Well, in that case, I will know who to have arrested for common theft, as I know that the woman you married has also purloined Lady Wintergreen’s mother’s dressing table effects, and probably her clothes too. I have instructions from his lordship to box up Lady Wintergreen’s library, inherited from her father, sundry sentimental pieces of furniture, ditto, her clothes, the evidence of which will tell me how much peculation has taken place, her mother’s personal effects which of course belong to her without question, and to set a fair rent for this house.”

“Preposterous!” spluttered Dauntry. “You can’t charge rent for what a man owns!”

“But you don’t own the house, my dear Dauntry,” purred Belwether.  “It was willed by Mr. Henderson to his daughter, with the proviso that his wife should have the use of it for her lifetime.  She’s dead. You had married her, and it was convenient for your minor stepdaughter to maintain you in the house as a guardian, and your new wife as well. But Lord Wintergreen, as owner of his wife’s belongings, can, if he wishes, sell the house from under you, or merely evict you to place more tenants in it.  His letters to me suggest that you have been a hard guardian, expecting the stepdaughter in whose house you reside to work as a servant for your new wife and new stepdaughter.”

“I... er, I am sure the wife expects the girls to pull their own weight....”

“And one goes to balls, and one does not. One had to ask time off to dress as a bridesmaid, whilst running errands like a servant for her step-sister and step-mother. One is seen out in finery, and one is assumed by neighbours to be a poor relation, and people speak of poor Henderson losing everything. This is preposterous, Mr. Dauntry, and Wintergreen will not have it.”

“You... you had better speak to my wife; I am sure there has been some misunderstanding,” said Henry Dauntry.

“Summon her, then,” said Belwether.

Mrs. Dauntry flounced into the library, having had a servant sent to get her.

“What is it, Henry?” she said. “I have poor Madelaine crying that Freddie cannot keep her properly.”

“Mrs. Dauntry,” said Belwether. “I believe you asked for three hundred pounds a year for the upkeep of your stepdaughter.”

“Yes, what of it?” said Helen Dauntry.

“I would like to see your accounting of how it was spent on her,” said Belwether. “From the accounts I have heard, she has not been living well enough to have been on much more than a hundred a year, even if she had her own groom separate to yours.”

“I... well, I do not count every penny; girls are expensive,” said Mrs. Dauntry.

“I would like to see her room,” said Belwether, grimly.

“Well, you may not,” said Mrs. Dauntry.

“Oh, you have no choice; I am acting for my client who owns it,” said Belwether.

“What? Henry owns the house; he inherited it from his former wife,” said Mrs. Dauntry.

“The late Mrs. Dauntry, formerly the widow Henderson, never owned the house,” said Belwether.

“I... I had no idea!” said Mrs. Dauntry. “Oh! We should have put that girl in an orphan asylum, keeping her out of the good of our hearts, eating us out of house and home, when there was rent to be paid, and she never told us her parents did not own the place! And now she has stolen Wintergreen from my poor Madelaine!”

“Your Madelaine could have been charged with breach of contract for copulating egregiously with another man on her wedding day like a common harlot; and flogged at the cart’s tail too,” said Belwether.

“Oh! Do not speak like that! She is a delicate girl and her nerves are quite overshot!” cried Helen.

“Balderdash,” said Belwether. “As to ‘that girl,’ by whom I assume you meant Miss Henderson as was, you can hardly accuse her of eating you out of house and home when you demanded three hundred pounds a year out of her inheritance, and in whose house you are residing.”

Helen stared at him, so far forgetting herself as to leave her mouth half open.

“But... but Henry said she was our responsibility... and an orphan... and... she has an inheritance?”

“Yes, and I took the money you said she would cost from it, because I would give you no more for Madelaine,” said Dauntry. “I thought she wasn’t dressed as well as Madelaine, but she never complained to me, so I thought she preferred to keep herself in the background and spent her allowance on books.”

“Miss Henderson did not have an allowance,” said Belwether. “She was given a few guineas from time to time to purchase fabric to make up gowns. I believe your other daughter had a modiste.  And I understand that Miss Henderson has kept books of any monies given her, and an accounting.”

“I want to see her rooms too,” said Dauntry. “She has some nest tucked up in the attic, I believe, where she removed when I remarried.”

“I thought she was a penniless orphan! She didn’t ought to have the nice rooms, I gave them to Madelaine, and made her live in the governess’s room!” said Helen, as Belwether rang for a maid to take them to Miss Jane’s room.

“My! Lady Wintergreen has a lovely suit against you both,” said Belwether. “Dauntry, a man should always know what goes on in his own home; she speaks of you as hard, but fair, and did not think you would be stealing from her portion. You have been misled. But it is still your responsibility.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Dauntry. The bluster had gone quite out of him. “I knew she had a nest egg, and that the interest could pay three hundred a year, and I know my late wife gave her an allowance from the interest of five pounds a month, not excessive, if not generous, on the agreement of both of them, in order to grow the capital. Two thirds of her mother’s widow’s portion also reverted to her on her mother’s remarriage to me. I paid for her schoolfees from her own monies as Helen informed me that she preferred to go to school to coming out.”

“That’s a bit different to Lady Wintergreen’s assessment of having been packed off to school out of the way,” said Belwether, dryly. Gerard had written everything he could find out about Jane.

“I cannot say I ever got on well with her,” said Dauntry. “She made a fuss about me sitting in her papa’s chair in the library, and spoiling it with tobacco smoke. She told me once... oh. She said she had every right to tell me where I might smoke as it wasn’t my house, it was hers. I thought she was just making an objection to me having married her mother and I gave her a rather hard spanking. She avoided me after that, which did not displease me.”

“It seems extraordinary that you should assume so readily, without checking,” said Belwether, opening the door of Jane’s closet, and pulling out all the gowns.  “Housed in a garret with clothes fit for a housekeeper, doing the job, as I understand it, of housekeeper, unpaid.”

“My wife keeps house,” said Dauntry.

“Girl,” said Belwether, to the hovering maid, “Who is the housekeeper in this house? If they turn you off, I will find you a job, as long as you are honest.”

“Oh, there ain’t no housekeeper now, mister,” said the girl. “Miss Jane did it all, an’ did the weekly accounts from the housekeeping money, like her ma used to. Nobody does it now, an’ there’s an awful account run up with the tradesmen. Missus makes orders like money grows on trees,” she added.

“Thank you,” said Belwether. “Who is Miss Jane’s maid?”

“Miss Jane don’t have no personal maid,” said the girl, gleefully.  “Poor Miss Jane gets up with the servants and runs about after Missus an’ Miss Maddyline, so Missus don’t have to pay another maid.”

“I see,” said Belwether. “Dauntry, I assess that you owe Lady Wintergreen’s dowry four hundred pounds for the excess that your wife spent on herself and her worthless whore of a daughter. Plus sixty pounds for two years’ pay as a housekeeper. I cannot assess this whole wardrobe to be worth more than an hundred pounds, even if ready-mades, and not made up from fabric by my client. You will be paying rent from now on; his lordship is not best pleased over the disrespect shown to his wife. He gave me leeway to offer you a peppercorn rent if there were no irregularities in her ladyship’s finances, but since you have not treated her possessions with respect, I am tempted to ask the full seven guineas a week a house in this location is worth.”

“I... I do not know if I can pay that,” said Dauntry, ashen.

“Little slut! Sneaking round behind my Madelaine and stealing her wealthy husband, she doesn’t deserve....”

“Woman, shut up,” snapped Dauntry. “You will be economising from now on, so that we don’t lose our home. Fine chance the girl had to sneak around Wintergreen if you dressed her like this. And may I remind you that it was your daughter who was carrying on with another man! Opening me to a charge of running a bawdy house! Now get down to the kitchen and sort out the accounts, and if you cannot, for pity’s sake bring them to me. I have no desire to run up a long tab with the tradesmen, there is your debt to Jane to be paid off, and now the house. I note, sir, you say ‘tempted.’ Can I plead for Jane’s half-brother?”

“Very well,” said Belwether. “Let us say five guineas a week; two hundred and seventy three pounds a year.”

“I... thank you,” said Dauntry. “And if we need to make ends meet, my wife can let out rooms to genteel ladies of good character, and run about seeing to their needs.” He fixed his wife with a malicious glare. “And if her daughter cannot manage to live with her husband, she can also learn to wait on others. I will be chastising both of them.”

“Well, we shall see how it goes,” said Belwether.  “I am prepared to let you pay off the four hundred and sixty pounds over the next year, one hundred and fifteen pounds per quarter, and let you off the interest on it as you have a desire to make amends. If you do decide to let rooms, I will see if I can recommend you suitable clients. Ah, I believe I will make myself scarce whilst you... discuss things... with your wife. I will go and fetch in the lads I’ve hired to pack all her ladyship’s effects and start work on packing them; good day.” He raised his hat, and moved away as Dauntry sat on Jane’s bed and pulled his wife, gobbling with furious hysterics, over his lap. Pleasing as the thought might be of a piece of physical retribution on someone he suspected of slapping the new viscountess  regularly, it did not mean that Belwether wished to witness it. Mrs. Dauntry’s squeals were, however, balm to his soul.

 

oOoOo

 

Gerard and Jane woke in each other’s arms, and Jane got up hastily to empty the now cold firepot out onto the frosty verge, so she could use it for its designated purpose.

She drew back the blanket curtain, and raised the blind on the window in the door.

“Now it is light, I want to examine your eyes,” she said.

“Very well; it is sore and I would like more cooling,” said Gerard.

“I will cool the bandage first with more water, and then look on the damage,” said Jane. “I wish I knew more, but at least I have had some training in the skills of the stillroom, and of dealing with everyday accidents.”

His eyes soothed somewhat, Gerard was ready for Jane to remove the makeshift dressing. He cried out as strips of skin pulled away with the fabric, and Jane swallowed hard. The swelling was at least reduced, and though the raw skin under that which had been torn off was weeping, there was no smell of putrefaction, nor discolouration beyond the pitting from the powder burns.

“I remember Mama saying that egg white and milk were good for burns,” said Jane. “This will feel pretty horrible.” She rummaged in the picnic hamper and found a lemon cheesecake with cream, and scooped of the topping to put on her husband’s eyes.

“Horrible, yet soothing,” said Gerard. “What is it?”

“Lemon cheesecake,” said Jane with a giggle which was almost a sob. “I’m going to go through your overnight bag and hope you have another neckcloth in there.”

“There should be a dozen,” said Gerard. “I’m not the sort of dandy to boast of ruining a dozen every morning in the efforts to get things right, not like Freddie, but sometimes things go wrong and it’s easier to start again.”

“Well, I am glad you are enough of a dandy to have them,” said Jane. “I’ll look again in a couple of hours and perhaps you will be able to open the lids a little to see if you can see dark and light, at least.”

“Oh, Jane! I do not deserve you,” said Gerard.

“Nonsense!” said Jane. “I am not sure if I deserve you.”

“I’m not much of a catch, as a person,” said Gerard. “I know Madelaine wanted my title and my wealth, but I’m not good at being loving. I... well, it’s one reason I so hate ‘hunting the squirrel;’ you see, my dear, almost seven years ago – not long after your father died – my parents were out driving, in an open carriage, with my two sisters, Amelia and Annabel. A... sportsman... overtook them on the bend, and the carriage went into the water. The horses were held under, under the whiffletree, and my mother and sisters were trapped under the body of the carriage. My father got out, pulling Annabel with him, but her neck was broken. He dived again and again, but it was too late. They said he died of pleurisy from getting water in his lungs, but I think he died of grief. I... I never hoped for the close, loving relationship my parents had, and determined that if I was cold, and did not feel anything for anyone, I would not be  hurt again. Oh Jane! I am falling in love with you, and I am afraid!”

“Hush, Gerard; love is an adventure we shall explore together. So long as you don’t have any stupid ideas of leaving me alone now I have found you, for some stupid false chivalry.”

“It crossed my mind,” said Gerard, softly. “But even blinded, I do not want to leave you.”

“So I should hope,” said Jane, wrapping her arms around him.