Lord of Legends

Nola shivered, afraid—as well she might be—to have been summoned into her former mistress’s presence, but Vivian was in no mood to salve the girl’s anxiety.

“Come, girl. I know you spoke to Lady Donnington privately. Why did she ask you to attend her?”

The maid gulped audibly. “My … my lady … the countess only wanted to ask about the coal and … she said she had taken a chill and would like a bit more to—”

“You are not a practiced deceiver, Nola, I can see that well enough.”

“I beg your pardon, your ladyship.” Nola straightened, and Vivian almost wondered if she were attempting some pathetic sort of defiance. “The countess only wanted to talk.”

“To a chambermaid?”

“She was very kind to me, your ladyship. I didn’t know the countess took any of his lordship’s clothing.”

This time Vivian’s well-honed sense for duplicity told her that the maid was telling the truth, however much else she might wish to conceal. “Most peculiar,” Vivian said, displeased. She folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward, fixing Nola with a gaze that had intimidated many a greater personage. “She said nothing about Lord Donnington?”

“She said she knew how much your ladyship missed his lordship.”

Her words bordered on the impertinent, but once more Vivian detected a large element of truth in what the maid disclosed. Odd that Mariah should be concerned about her mother-in-law’s feelings for her son.

“Did she say she missed him, as well?” Vivian asked shortly.

“Perhaps …” Nola brushed at her uniform and gazed at the figured carpet under her feet. “Begging your pardon, your ladyship, but if she took Lord Donnington’s clothing, perhaps it was because she wanted something of him near her.”

Nola’s imagination was impressive for a girl of her age and occupation. Vivian allowed a little of the starch to go out of her spine, selected a biscuit from the silver tray on the table beside her and broke off the most minute piece she could. Her hands began to stiffen and ache with the old complaint.

“You are quite well-spoken for a maid, Nola,” she said, doing her best to disregard the pain. “Where did Mrs. Baines find you?”

“In the village, your ladyship.”

“Is your family there?”

“No, your ladyship. My mother is in Barway, and is not well. She must have medicines. I was employed as a seamstress’s assistant.”

Then her coming to Donbridge was a great improvement in her circumstances, for which she must be daily grateful, Vivian thought.

“I am sorry to hear of your mother’s affliction,” she said.

Nola curtseyed. “You are kind, your ladyship.”

As kind as you are stupid, my dear, Vivian thought. “You have some education,” she said.

“A little, your ladyship.”

“Enough to make you worthy to converse with a countess.”

Nola never lifted her gaze from the floor. “I never expected such an honor, your ladyship.”

Vivian was rapidly growing weary of the interrogation. “Let me get directly to the point, Nola,” she said. “I would like you to make the most of this new confidence.”

The girl finally looked up, a flash of alarm on her round, seemingly guileless face. “I don’t understand, your ladyship.”

With the most delicate of motions, Vivian crumbled the bit of biscuit into a napkin without tasting it. “I should think a girl of your obvious intelligence would comprehend me very well. Are you capable of discretion?”

Nola hesitated, but not a moment longer than she should. “Yes, your ladyship.”

“There are many things my daughter-in-law prefers to keep to herself, and I wish to get to know her better. You might be of great assistance to me in this enterprise.”

“How, your ladyship?”

“By making yourself easily available whenever she wishes to talk. By proving yourself her most loyal confidante.”

“But my duties, your—”

Vivian brushed the crumbs off her fingers. “You shall be excused from any duties which might interfere with your new appointment. There shall be no penalties … unless you choose to decline my suggestion.”

Their gazes met. The girl was under no illusion as to what Vivian implied. “Am I to report anything she says to me, your ladyship?”

“I see we understand each other, Nola.” Vivian permitted herself a beneficent smile. “You shall also discreetly follow her when she walks the grounds, especially in areas out of sight of the house. You must by no means allow her to see you.”

“Does your ladyship fear she might injure herself?”

Such questioning from a maid was beyond anything Vivian would ordinarily have allowed, but she had set her course and intended to follow it to the end.

“I do fear for her,” she said with a sigh of mock concern. “One never knows what a young matron might do when she is so early separated from her husband.”

Which was a topic even this bold chit didn’t dare to address. “Yes, your ladyship,” she murmured.

“You shall find me very appreciative of your services to me. Perhaps your mother will recover more quickly than you anticipated.”

Nola flushed. Angry, Vivian guessed. But not prepared to let such unsuitable emotions rob her of her position and the hope Vivian had offered her.

“I am honored to serve your ladyship in any way,” Nola said with a deep curtsey, which effectively concealed her true feelings.

“Excellent.” Vivian glanced toward the drawing room door, aware that Barbara might return at any time to take the tray and refresh the tea. “Do you have any questions? Is anything I have said unclear to you?”

“No, your ladyship. Everything is very clear.”

“Excellent.” Vivian rose. “I shall expect you to present yourself to me, discreetly, in a few days’ time. If the countess does not call for you soon, you are to find a way to attract her interest again. I know you are clever enough to do it.”

There was no answer, but Vivian required none. She swept past the girl and through the drawing room door, massaging her hands in a way that no one might see.

She would know what Mariah was scheming, one way or another. She had long been convinced, given Donnington’s sudden departure following his wedding night, that his marriage to the girl had never been consummated. And though proof of the validity of Vivian’s suspicions might be long in coming, she could certainly find other damning evidence against the hussy … evidence that, when combined with the almost certain fact of Mariah’s virginal state, might prove the basis for dissolution of the ill-conceived union.

Donnington might already be longing for an escape from his ties to Mariah. If he were to be assured that such a dissolution was both possible and desirable.

As the Americans said in their usual vulgar fashion, there was more than one way to skin a cat. And if the cat’s pelt might be acquired with so little trouble to herself, so much the better.

“WILL YOU HAVE ANOTHER piece of cake, Lady Donnington?”