A Gentleman of Worth, page 19
With a huff, Lady Goderich set down her cup leaned forward. “If you have done this much, you must have a plan formed. Before I agree to any scheme, I must hear it first.”
As Lady Ormonde detailed what would occur, Amelia’s head spun. This was risky and could go awry in so many ways. She pressed a hand to the sofa to keep her upright. She was going to be sick. Before the explanation was complete, she rushed from the room to the dining room and pulled the chamber pot from the bottom left cabinet of the sideboard where she had seen Franks store it. A moment later, she purged what little was in her stomach.
“Amelia?” Lady Goderich stood in the door. She must have followed her.
When she made it to her feet, Lady Goderich handed her a handkerchief that Amelia used to dab at her mouth. “Forgive me.”
Lady Ormonde leaned against the doorframe. “Are you nervous of the plan or is this caused by something else?”
“I have been sick three times since the accident, and I am nauseous more often than not.”
“Likely your nerves,” said Lady Goderich. “That is, as long as you are still having your courses.”
She dropped back against the wall. Her courses? When had those come last? Just after her grandparents’ ball was the last she could recall. “I had not even considered. Since this started after the accident, I just assumed—”
“It was nerves?” Phoebe finished her sentence. “I remember those days well. ’Tis easy to pass off as a brief illness or strain until the sickness lasts more than a week or two.”
Lady Ormonde smiled. “Or you show other signs.”
“I am no more than a fortnight overdue, so I cannot be certain.”
Phoebe gave a little squeal and clapped her hands. “Anthony will be so excited. He has wanted a family of his own for some time.”
Her stomach rolled, and she pressed the back of her hand against her nose, dropping back against the wall.
“Perhaps we should remove Amelia from this room. The stale air cannot be helpful,” said Lady Ormonde.
With a hand to her arm, Phoebe pulled her out of the water closet. “I agree. Some dry toast should put you to rights. I probably ate more dry toast when I was with child than I had in my life.” As soon as they returned to the drawing room, she sat Amelia down on the sofa and pulled the bell to request dry toast. “Now, Grace, I do believe the problem with your scheme is Amelia’s presence. She should be at Madame Morisot’s, but I do believe the sight of her could keep Lady Lincoln from remaining one moment longer. I should be in her place.”
“You?” Lady Ormonde lifted her eyebrows.
“Yes,” said Amelia with a finger pointed in Phoebe’s direction. “Phoebe can be seen as an old acquaintance.”
Phoebe nodded. “Lady Lincoln is not associated with any of the gossip about the accident thus far, and she does not know whether we are intimate friends.”
“I could be reluctant to confide such tales to my brother’s sister, so she may assume you know naught of why the accident occurred.”
“You are both correct of course,” said the marchioness. “I shall either call or send a note should I have word from the maid, or from the other quarter.” She turned to Stevens who had stood quietly by the servants’ entrance until now. “You shall be of aid, of course. I trust Lady Greene will keep you informed of our progress.” The valet nodded before he hastened off.
As soon as Phoebe and Amelia saw Lady Ormonde—Grace— to the front door, they made their way to Anthony’s rooms. Stevens already sat by his master’s side with a cup of broth to his lips.
“Anthony!” said Phoebe, rushing to his bedside. “I am so pleased to see you awake.”
Anthony winced and shifted. “If Stevens has his way, I shall be in a fitful sleep before long.”
At the almost glassy look in his eyes, Amelia stepped around the bed and placed the back of her hand against his forehead as he flinched and drew away.
“Why, this is most irregular! Stevens, why have you allowed Miss Montford in my bedchamber?”
Amelia’s heart sank and her knees shook.
“Lady Greene has remained since you first became injured, sir,” said Stevens, pressing the cup back to Anthony’s lips. “Perhaps the blow to your head and your fever are preventing you from remembering.”
Phoebe gave her a tight smile. “Stevens speaks the truth, Brother. I attended your nuptials myself.”
After he swallowed, Anthony rested his head against the pillows piled behind him and tilted it so he could see Amelia. “Well, I suppose you should be here then. Do you wish to check my forehead again?” He gave a cheeky grin as his eyelids fluttered.
Amelia caressed his forehead and cradled his warm cheeks in her palms while he continued to smile. “You are feverish. Have you had some willow bark tea?”
“He drank that first,” said Stevens. “He did not want to take the laudanum, so I put it in with the willow bark. ’Tis why he is sleepy.”
“Amy,” said Anthony in a murmur. “So lovely.”
Her cheeks burned as Phoebe covered her mouth with the back of her hand for a moment. “Yes, well, I see he is truly improving. Do be sure to include me when the time comes.” She dipped her chin in a way that left no doubt what she was referring to.
“Of course. Allow me to walk you out.”
As soon as they closed the bedchamber door behind them, Phoebe situated her reticule on her wrist. “When will you tell him of the babe?”
“All I know is I am nauseous, and my courses have not come. I have felt no quickening as yet. Would you tell Lord Goderich?”
She laughed. “My breasts ached so I could not hide it. He could not understand why I was so sore and was about to summon a physician. I had to tell him my suspicions. With Anthony’s accident, any intimacies between you will be suspended until he is well, so you may have longer than I did.”
Amelia’s cheeks heated. “I had not considered…”
“No, I had not either when I was newly married. I understand the concerns of telling him before the quickening, but he would wish to know as soon as it is reasonable. If you regain your courses or lose the babe, he will want to mourn with you. He is a sympathetic gentleman, my brother.”
“I have noticed as much.” She would not elaborate.
“And he loves you with his entire heart. He has for a long time. He would want to share this with you.”
“Very well, I shall tell him when he is well enough. Will that suit?”
Phoebe put her arm around Amelia. “He will be so excited. You may have to lock him in his study to keep him from shouting from the rooftop.”
She chuckled at the image of her gentlemanly husband behaving with so little decorum. “That would be a sight.”
When they reached the hall, Franks fetched Phoebe’s spencer and bonnet, and Amelia gave a final wave before she departed. One thing was certain, she could not tell Anthony of the possibility before they carried out Lady Ormonde’s scheme. He could not know of their plans either!
Chapter 21
Amelia stood amongst bolts and shelves of fabric as well as the work tables in the back room of Madame Morisot’s while voices from the small parlour drifted through the heavy velvet curtain. Thankfully, the dressmaker had told her assistants that their first appointment was not until the afternoon, so none had as yet arrived to work on the projects labelled and neatly piled upon the shelves.
She almost groaned aloud. This wait was interminable! While Amelia strained to hear any hint of activity from the front of the shop, Phoebe sat in the comfortable sitting room, patiently awaiting the arrival of Lady Lincoln, who was, thus far, late. The bell on the door rang through the shop, making Amelia jump. Madame Morisot’s thick French accent welcomed the customer without pause.
“Lady Lincoln? Why it has been an age!” said Phoebe after Madame greeted her. “I do hope you are well.” Her voice was a little loud and, to Amelia’s ears, a little practiced. The sounds from the front carried well into the back. She need not speak so forcefully.
“You were Miss Greene, were you not?”
“Yes, but I am now Lady Goderich. I wed Lord Goderich two and a half years ago.”
“My, but you did well. I am certain your father would have been pleased.” Amelia clenched and released her fists. Just the mention of Anthony’s father was enough to make her grit her teeth. “Do you also have an appointment with Madame this morning?”
“Oh, yes, I do,” said Phoebe with a tinkling, easy laugh quite unlike her initial greeting. “But I erred on the time and arrived impossibly early. Madame Morisot has been kind enough to allow me to await my husband’s sister while Madame tends to her next client, which I suppose is you.” Phoebe said the last as though it just occurred to her.
“I was about to bring Lady Goderich tea. Would you care for a cup as well, my lady?” asked Madame.
“Tea would be lovely.” Skirts swished and a familiar creaking followed. By the sound, Lady Lincoln had sat in the chair in the corner near the fire.
Madame Morisot gave Amelia an odd look when she entered the workroom and filled the teapot on the table from the kettle that had been staying hot on the small wood stove. She pointed to one of the cups, and Amelia added a measure of laudanum to it. Her fingers shook to such an extent, she inhaled a deep breath to steady her hand. She was going to be sick!
“Do not forget to lock the door,” Amelia mouthed.
“Lady Lincoln’s gaze was darting back and forth between us. I could not for fear of her noticing.” Madame spoke low, though whether Lady Lincoln could hear over Phoebe’s small talk was doubtful.
Madame Morisot carried the tray to the front. The clinking of the tea set followed while Amelia stood at the curtain, her ear pressed against the edge of the doorframe. Not a moment later, the bell rang. “Ah, bonjour, Madame. My sister and I were across the street at the small book shop, and I decided I should make an appointment with you while I am in this part of town.”
“Bien sûr, Madame Darcy. I shall be with you in a moment. Good morning, Mademoiselle Montford.” Madame Darcy! Mademoiselle Montford? Lizzy was there? With Janey? No, no, no! Janey must have left Audley Place this morning after Mr. Stevens had sneaked Amelia out through the servants’ entrance. Of all the things that could happen, this was the worst! Madame Morisot needed to persuade Lizzy and Janey to leave. They could not carry out their plan with witnesses present!
Amelia rested her head against the doorframe while she waited. This was maddening! What had made her agree to the marchioness’s scheme? Amelia was obviously not made for this sort of subterfuge—her stomach was in knots! A prank was one matter, but this…She was more likely to cast up her accounts than to be of aid. She had been nauseous of late, but not like this.
Skirts swished once more. “Here you are Lady Lincoln,” said the dressmaker. “Lady Goderich.”
“Now, Madame Darcy, I had a cancellation just this morning for an appointment next week. Would that suit?”
“Why, yes, I believe that would do very well. What do you think, Jane?”
“Yes, that day and time would suit me also.”
The scratching of a pen on paper followed. Madame was surely writing the time on one of her cards. “Here, Madame, Mademoiselle, I have a card with the appointment for each of you. I look forward to fitting the two of you once again.”
Amelia heaved out a breath. They would leave, though it was odd they had yet to greet Phoebe. Had they not seen her?
“It is good to see you again, Lady Goderich,” said Lizzy. “I hope you and your family are all well.” There, that answered her question.
“We are very well, thank you.” Phoebe kept a pleasant tone while she answered, as though nothing was amiss.
“My sister has indicated Sir Anthony has improved since his accident. My husband and I are relieved to hear it. I do know his condition was quite grave. I have not had a letter from Amelia of late, but I know she has been a devoted nurse while he has been ill.”
“She spends all of her time at his bedside,” said Janey.
“He has made marked improvement,” said Phoebe. “I shall call later today. Though I am certain Miss Montford will pass along your well wishes for my brother, I will echo them just the same.” Yes! Attempt to wind down the conversation. Persuade Lizzy and Janey to depart. It would not do for Lady Lincoln to fall asleep with Lizzy present!
“We have planned for Jane to persuade her down for tea this afternoon. I do hope we can have some success. If you are there, I hope you will aid us in the endeavour.” Amelia’s eyes bulged. As soon as their scheme was completed, she had to return lest they discover her gone.
“Of course,” said Phoebe. “Amelia will surely require a bit of time for herself. I shall even offer to sit with Anthony if it will convince her.”
“Excellent,” said Janey.
“Stevens, my brother’s valet, has been adamant your cousin rest and eat. The servants are all doing their best to ensure she remains in good health. I do hope you know—”
Janey nodded. “I have noticed their dedication. They are devoted to my cousin and her husband. I have stayed at Audley Place to be of benefit to them when I can, but I have had little to do. Mrs. Baxter and Mr. Franks seem to have the household well in hand.”
With a smile at her sister, Lizzy released an airy sigh. “Well, I suppose we must be going. I am certain you do not appreciate my delaying Madame when you surely have an appointment. Good day, Lady Goderich.”
“Good day, Mrs. Darcy.” Amelia’s shoulders slumped, and she all but sagged when the bell rang upon the door and quiet overtook the parlour.
“Perhaps I should lock the door, so we are not interrupted further,” said Madame, making Amelia straighten and lean in for the answer.
“I would not object.” Was it her imagination or had Lady Lincoln’s voice slurred a little? “I require a good number of dresses and the fewer interruptions, the quicker we can accomplish the task. My servant left the parcels of fabric on the counter. Since it is just myself and Lady Goderich, shall we go through the patterns here rather in the back parlour? I am quite content by the fire at the moment.”
“Bien sûr, Madame.”
Madame Morisot lifted her eyebrows at Amelia as she entered the workroom, grabbed the folio from the shelf and bustled back through the heavy curtain. “I can make any changes you desire from the pattern. May I open your fabric and see what you have chosen?”
Some discussion commenced over the first fabric unwrapped. Phoebe exclaimed over the quality of the fine crimson silk while Madame suggested the perfect lace to pair with it. Amelia leaned against the wall, dropped her head back, and closed her eyes as the dressmaker began to speak of a suitable pattern. Would the woman ever fall asleep? The last thing Amelia wished to do was sit in Madame Morisot’s all morning!
When the second parcel of fabric was brought out and the trio began discussing the fabric and pattern for the next gown, Amelia clapped her hand over her mouth. She had almost groaned aloud! A moment later, the front parlour fell quiet, the curtain flew open, and Phoebe followed Madame into the workroom. “Good heavens, I thought she would never fall asleep.”
“I do not know how. I put the same measure we have been giving Anthony. I feared giving her more. What if it was too much?”
Madame opened the rear door to the mews, and Lady Ormonde soon entered through the back. “Is it done?”
“Oui, Madame, but I beg you never to involve me in another plot of this nature.”
The marchioness laughed and gave the dressmaker a dismissive wave. “Have I ever asked this of you in the past? Believe me that I have never needed to scheme in this manner before, and I do hope I never need do so again. You are safe from me.”
Madame gave an exhale and a nod. “If it had not been for the lady’s reputation, and your accounting of her diversions, I would not have agreed.”
“I understand.” Lady Ormonde waved in Mr. Stevens, who had been awaiting the signal. “Put her in the cart.” The valet hardly appeared his usual well-tailored self in the work clothes Lady Ormonde had acquired for him.
As Stevens hoisted Lady Lincoln over his shoulder, Madame Morisot gestured to the fabric. “Take that with you. I should not like to have any evidence that I aided you or her in the shop.”
“Give it to the poor,” said Amelia. “Do not give it all to one woman but spread it here and there.”
Madame’s eyes brightened. “I know of a man who could help in that regard. He is not very clever, so he will not think to ask where the fabric originated. He also delivers to several of the brothels. The fabric will not be so out of place in some of those establishments.” Lady Lincoln’s fabrics finding their way to a brothel seemed a fitting. Amelia had to bite her lip to keep from reacting.
“Excellent idea,” said Phoebe.
As soon as Stevens had Lady Lincoln settled in the back of a cart and covered by a rug, Phoebe, whose part was finished, departed through the front door. She opened her parasol, then handed a few coins to an urchin who stood near the Goderich carriage. Meanwhile, Amelia accompanied the marchioness through the back to an unremarkable carriage that awaited them in the mews. With its lack of insignia, it resembled any other that might be seen on Bond Street. Lady Ormonde had truly thought out every detail.
“The cart with Lady Lincoln has already departed. I do not wish for her to see our faces.” Lady Ormonde closed the shades and relaxed back into the uncomfortable and ragged squabs.
“What of Stevens? If she wakes, she will recognise him.”
“Stevens is riding with their driver while another is in the back of the cart with Lady Lincoln.”
“I hope they are trustworthy.” The last thing they needed was someone speaking of this.
“Oh, their driver and the man in the back of the cart are from my household and do not tell tales. They will also be generously compensated to encourage their silence, as will our driver.”
Amelia fidgeted while the carriage traversed its way through the streets of London. The usual sounds of Bond Street and the parts of London she was accustomed to eventually gave way to shouts and the cries of people hawking their wares. When the equipage came to a stop, the door opened, and a tall, older gentleman stood in the opening. “Good morning, Lady Ormonde.”
