Misfit Maid

‘Yes!’ said Maidie bitterly. ‘I have never forgiven Great-uncle Reginald for that. Ever since I have kept it strictly confined—until today. And I wish very much that I had not allowed Lady Hester to persuade me to do otherwise.’

Delagarde rounded on her. ‘My good girl, don’t be stupid! For God’s sake, take off that ridiculous bandeau, and let me see it properly!’

‘She will do no such thing.’ To Maidie’s relief, Lady Hester rose and came to stand beside her protegée. ‘Leave the child alone, Laurie. You can see she is distressed.’

These words caused Delagarde’s glance to move to Maidie’s face. She looked not distressed, but decidedly mutinous. As well she might! What the devil was Aunt Hes playing at, to dress the girl in this fashion? His eyes raked her from head to toe and back again. It was not so much the style of the gown as the bandeau and feathers—and the colour. There was something—yes, repellent!—in the combination of dark blue and silk. Almost he preferred the dowd. This look of sophistication, of mature womanhood, he found distinctly disturbing.

He became aware of Maidie’s wide-eyed gaze upon him, in it both question and—doubt, was it? He frowned. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

She put up her chin. ‘It would take more than your disapproval to offend me. It is immaterial to me what you think of me.’

‘Is it, indeed?’ said Delagarde, instantly up in the boughs. ‘Then allow me to point out that it was not I who sought to place you under my sponsorship. But, since you will have it so, you had better learn to take account of my opinion.’

Maidie’s brows drew together. ‘Well, I will not. I have not asked you to interfere beyond what I specify.’

‘Oh, indeed?’ returned Delagarde dangerously. ‘And what precisely do you specify? I may remind you that I have not yet agreed to do anything at all.’

‘Then why am I here?’

‘You are asking me? How the devil should I know?’

‘Oh, tut, tut!’ interrupted Lady Hester, laughing. ‘Do the two of you mean to be forever at loggerheads?’ She turned apologetically to the duenna, who was looking distressed. ‘Miss Wormley, pray pay no attention. If you had been here this morning and heard them both, you would think nothing of this plain speaking between them.’

‘But Maidie must not—it is quite shocking in her…’ The Worm faded out as her charge’s inquiring grey gaze came around to her face. Daunted, but pursuing, she took up her complaint again. ‘It is not becoming, Maidie, when his lordship has been so magnanimous as to—’

‘But he has not, Worm,’ interrupted Maidie, moving to resume her seat in a chair next to her duenna’s. ‘It is Lady Hester who asked me to come. Lord Delagarde has not ceased to object—quite violently!—and he has been far from magnanimous.’

‘Oh, no doubt it is churlish of me,’ uttered Delagarde in dudgeon, ‘to object to my house being invaded, my peace being disturbed, and my life turned upside-down merely to accommodate the whims of a pert female who has not even the courtesy to make the matter a request. She demands—or, no, it was required, was it not?—that I should arrange her debut. If anyone can give me a reason why I should be magnanimous after that, I shall be delighted to hear it.’

Silence succeeded this tirade. Delagarde, having discharged his spleen, looked from one to the other in growing bewilderment. The Worm looked crushed. If Aunt Hes was not on the point of laughter, he did not know his own relative. As for Maidie herself—was that a hint of apology in her eyes? Before he could quite make up his mind, Maidie spoke.

‘It is—it is quite true,’ she said, in a gruff little voice. ‘I had not thought of it in quite that way. I suppose I need not blame you for being so horrid.’

Delagarde was conscious of a peculiar sensation—as of a melting within him. Thrown quite out of his stride, he directed the oddest look upon her, and began, ‘Maidie, I—’

She cut him short, rising swiftly to her feet. ‘No, it is for me to speak now.’ With difficulty, she overcame a rise of emotion that she did not recognise. ‘I have been selfish. If you feel that you cannot bear to accommodate me, even for a little time, I shall quite understand.’

Before Delagarde could gather his bemused wits at this wholly unlooked-for turn of events, the door opened to admit a footman. Fleetingly, Delagarde wondered at his butler’s absence, but his attention was caught by the man’s words, which had nothing, as he might have expected, to do with dinner.

‘Lord and Lady Shurland,’ announced the footman.

Chapter Three

A sharp-featured brunette walked quickly into the room, followed more ponderously by a portly gentleman some years her senior. Both were in morning dress, and clearly in a state of some agitation. Lady Shurland cast one swift glance around, caught sight of Maidie, and flung out an accusing finger.

‘So, it is true! Mary, how could you?’

Maidie looked briefly at Delagarde’s frowning countenance, and drew an unsteady breath as she turned to face the woman. She had anticipated this invasion. It was not to be supposed that Adela and Firmin would acquiesce in her schemes. Only, must they arrive just at this moment? Nothing could have been more unfortunate. A prey to hideous indecision, she stepped forward. But before she could speak, Lady Hester intervened, rising and moving forward with hand held out.

‘Good evening, Lady Shurland. We have not met, I think. My name is Lady Hester Otterburn.’

Delagarde watched the woman turn abruptly to his aunt, and shot a look at Maidie. He saw dismay in her face. Did she suppose that he meant to send her packing? It was a heaven-sent opportunity to do so. There could be little doubt that the Shurlands had come to claim her. He looked again to where Lady Shurland had perforce halted. So this was the female whose machinations Maidie sought to avoid. He had never admired angular women. Besides, she looked to be ill-tempered, darting killing looks at Maidie even as she exchanged greetings with Aunt Hes. His attention was drawn by the current and sixth Earl of Shurland, with whom he was slightly acquainted, and who was evidently labouring under suppressed emotion.

‘You will forgive this intrusion, I trust,’ he said, addressing himself to Delagarde. ‘We had been on an outing of pleasure for the day, and returned home to be met with the extraordinary intelligence, culled from my coachman, that Lady Mary had arrived in town and was even now staying in your house. You may imagine our consternation. We lost no time in setting forth to discover for ourselves if this were indeed the case.’

‘And now that you have discovered it,’ said Delagarde, his tone so bland that Maidie’s eyes flew to his face, ‘what do you propose to do about it?’

‘Why, take her home, of course!’ burst from Adela.

‘Oh?’ said Delagarde. ‘But what if she does not choose to accompany you?’

‘She will do as she is told,’ Shurland announced curtly, and turned to his quarry. ‘This flight of yours, Maidie, was quite unnecessary. I do not know with what purpose you have thrust yourself upon Lord Delagarde, but—’

‘I have done it so that he may bring me out,’ said Maidie, breaking in without ceremony.

‘Mary!’ gasped Lady Shurland in a horrified tone. ‘Do you tell me that you have had the effrontery to—to—’

‘Yes, I have. But you may be easy, Adela.’ For she meant to add that Delagarde had refused to be imposed upon. She was given no opportunity to do so.

‘Lord Delagarde, I am mortified!’ burst from Adela. ‘She is dead to all sense of shame!’

‘I believe she is,’ Delagarde agreed mildly.

‘And after I have shown every willingness to bring her to town myself. How could you, Mary, treat me so shabbily? To leave your home while we were absent, without a word said! And then to throw yourself upon the mercy of a stranger, as though we had behaved ill towards you. I do not know how you can look me in the face!’

Maidie was looking her very boldly in the face, an expression of distaste on her own countenance. ‘Pray do not put on these airs for the benefit of Lady Hester and Lord Delagarde, Adela. I have already told them what your motive was in offering to bring me out.’

‘Oh, I have no doubt that you have done your best to blacken me,’ uttered Adela in a tone of deep reproach. ‘You will not be satisfied until you have made me an object of censure in the eyes of society.’

‘Dear me,’ put in Lady Hester calmly. ‘In what way, my dear ma’am?’

‘Everyone will think that I was too mean and selfish to bring her out. It is quite untrue. I have done everything in my power to do the best for her—in despite of her every attempt to make an enemy of me. Only see how she repays me! Sneaking behind our backs in this unkind way.’

‘Adela, leave this to me,’ said her lord, and turned again to Maidie. ‘I shall refrain from discussing the evils of your conduct in this company, Maidie, but I desire that you will at once stop behaving in a fashion which even you must recognise to be reprehensible in the extreme. If, as I am informed, you have indeed taken up residence in this house—’

‘Pray do not speak to me as if I were a schoolgirl, Firmin,’ interrupted Maidie. ‘You have no authority over me.’

‘On the contrary. As Head of the Family, I must consider myself responsible for you.’ He swung, without warning, upon Maidie’s unfortunate duenna. ‘And if any further proof was needed, Miss Wormley, of your total unfittedness to have the care of Lady Mary—’

‘I will not have you turn on Worm!’ Maidie warned, flying to the shrinking duenna’s defence. ‘You may say what you wish to me, Firmin, but you may not berate my dearest Worm.’

‘Oh, Maidie, pray—’ uttered Miss Wormley, clutching at her bosom in an ineffectual way. ‘You must not! It is perfectly true that—Oh, dear!’

‘Do not be alarmed, Worm. You are not to blame.’ Maidie crossed the room as she spoke, and perched by Miss Wormley’s chair, putting a protective arm about her. ‘Poor Worm implored me not to come, and she was even more shocked at my conduct than Lord Delagarde himself.’

‘Oh, Lord Delagarde!’ uttered Adela, pouncing on this and throwing out a hand towards the Viscount. ‘What can I say? How can I sufficiently apologise?’

‘I see no reason for apology,’ said Delagarde coldly, eyeing her with a hint of hostility. ‘You can scarcely be held accountable for Lady Mary’s actions.’