The Virtuous Ward

CHAPTER Four

"Come on, Muffin," Amity whispered, nudging the great shaggy animal off the satin loveseat. "It's time for your walk."

Grabbing a handful of fur on his neck, she opened the door and peered into the empty hall. She tiptoed along the runner, the dog beside her, and slipped down the main staircase to the front door. She unlatched it and shoved Muffin out onto the front steps of the London townhouse then closed the door behind her. Breathing in the moist early morning air, she tied the ribbons on her bonnet and searched in the pocket of her pelisse until she discovered her mittens. Pulling them on, she briskly started down the stairs. After an initial hesitancy, Muffin shook his head and padded after her unwilling to be left behind.

Amity knew Max would be furious if he discovered her early morning adventures. Since their arrival in London, he had warned her about disgracing herself with unladylike behavior. She knew it was not proper to be out at such an hour and most especially without either a maid or a footman. However, she had found her entire life so confining that this bit of rebellion helped her to get through the rest of each day. She walked the two blocks to the park, sighing in relief as she entered the gates.

She had discovered the little park on her second day in London and it had become her private refuge. Used to the freedom of the country, she found the buildings and dirt of the city oppressive and needed her spirits renewed in this little plot of greenery.

Off the main paths, she felt safe from any unwanted eyes of the fashionable set. She walked slowly, letting Muffin poke and sniff as much as he wanted. She found a bench in the sun and sat down, calling to the dog. After taking one more investigative sniff of a rather interesting clump of brush, he nestled at her feet.

Untying the ribbons on her bonnet, Amity pulled off the hat and placed it beside her. She turned her face up to the sun, her eyes closed as her skin soaked in the heat. It was a perfect day and she should feel a well of excitement for all that had happened in the last month. But her come out ball was this evening and just the thought of it sent her stomach plummeting to her toes.

"Oh, Muffin, I've been such a fool," Amity moaned. The dog raised his shaggy head and stared at her with soulful eyes. She reached down and stroked his soft fur and he pressed his head against her knee, letting it slide down until it rested on her foot. "It was my pride that done me in, old sport."

For a moment a smile trembled on her lips at her joking tone but then her eyes filled with tears. How was she ever going to get through this evening? Her dress had arrived yesterday and it was a total disaster; SHE would be a total disaster. She had been so foolish in her pride and now she would pay the price for her vanity. But more than her disappointment over the dress was her awareness of Honoria's treachery. As unsophisticated as she was, even she had to acknowledge that the woman she thought had befriended her had indeed betrayed her trust.

Muffin snuffled in his sleep and Amity was reminded of her one loyal friend. She reached into her reticule and pulled out a lacy handkerchief. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes, admonishing herself for giving in to such a degree. After all it was her own fault.

Amity had liked Honoria when she first met her. The very fashionable Miss Waterston was five years older with a social manner that Amity envied. Beside the elegant perfection of the blonde woman, she had felt like the veriest gawk, but Max's special lady friend had been charming to her, taking her shopping, and praising her for her fashion sense. Amity had been dazzled by the endless bolts of materials and trimmings at the mantua maker. She had been flattered when Honoria asked her opinion on all the selections. At first she had been hesitant but under the older woman's praise, she gained confidence in her choices. Soon she was giving her imagination full rein, choosing dresses that she had dreamed about over the bleak years at Beech House.

It was only in the last week that Amity first suspected that everything was not what it should be. Madame Bertoldi, the modiste Honoria had brought her to, had become more tightlipped as the fittings continued. It was apparent to Amity that the woman was not happy with the dresses but each time she opened her mouth to speak, Honoria interrupted with a distracting remark. When Amity questioned Honoria, she laughed off her concerns, saying foreigners always were moody.

Yesterday when the ball gown arrived, Amity had been filled with excitement. Since her arrival in London she had become more aware of fashions and dreamed about the thrill of being dressed like the rest of the young ladies her age. She could not wait another moment to see the results of her endless shopping. Hurrying to her room, she had locked the door and folded back the tissue around the dress. The dress was just as she had pictured it and she sighed with happiness. Slipping out of her morning gown, she pulled the dress over her head. Her hands shook as she tied the sash beneath her breasts and crossed the room until she stood in front of the cheval glass. Slowly she raised her eyes.

A cry of disappointment came to her lips but she bit it back as she stared at the dreadful vision in the mirror. The beautiful dress looked ludicrous. Her shoulders slumped and she covered her eyes, wanting nothing more than to run away back to Beech House. She gave in to the feeling of self-pity for a few minutes before her more practical sense came to her aid. Taking her hands away from her eyes, she stared into the mirror trying to look with an objective eye at the dress.

The dress itself was a beautiful creation. It was white muslin, which Honoria had told her was de rigueur for a debutante. The bodice was tucked and pleated down to the pink sash tied beneath her breasts. The skirt had wide, stiffly pleated ruffles which were caught up around the edge with bright pink bows to show off the shell pink underskirt. Honoria had advised that the sleeves be puffed at the shoulder and had suggested Amity might like the bows repeated on the material covering her arms down to her wrists. The dress was in every respect like the one Amity and Honoria had designed.

The problem was that the gown would have looked beautiful on Honoria's petite figure. On Amity the dress accentuated her height and was much too fussy for her larger figure. Perhaps it might not have been so awful but the bright color of the pink sash and bows clashed with her hair, setting her teeth on edge. Closing her eyes, Amity remembered Honoria holding the pink satin material against her cheek.

"This color brings out the highlights in your hair, my dear." Honoria's voice echoed in Amity's head. "And it does wonders for your skin tones."

Sitting on the bench in the park, Amity bowed her head, embarrassed that she had been so easily gulled. She did not understand why Honoria had let her choose her own wardrobe when her unsophisticated choices had been so wrong. She had been betrayed by her own foolish pride and the older woman who she thought was standing as friend. She still found it hard to believe that Honoria would be so cruel as to make her a laughingstock but if she wore the dress this evening, Amity knew that would be the result.

Part of Amity's anguish was in knowing that she would disappoint Max. Her guardian had been wonderful to her and she would repay him by appearing like the veriest country bumpkin. She wanted nothing so much as to throw herself on his chest and cry out all her woes but that was an impossibility. It was apparent from the beginning that Honoria had a special position in Max's life. There was a proprietary air about the woman when she spoke of him that indicated to Amity that their relationship was not one of mere friendship. In the last few days Honoria had hinted that Max was near to declaring himself and that had destroyed any thought Amity had that she might confide her troubles to him.

How could Amity tell Max that the woman he loved had set out to ruin his ward's chances in society? She had trusted Honoria and had not looked beyond the woman's words to the character beneath. It was in recent days that she had begun to question Honoria's motives but she had ignored the inconsistencies since Max thought so well of the woman. Could Max not see beyond the woman's beautiful facade? And if he couldn't, it was not up to Amity to destroy his illusions.

For some reason, Honoria had taken her in dislike but Amity could not wholly blame the woman. She had been far too trusting. Now she understood why Madame Bertoldi had been so unsettled. The Frenchwoman knew that Amity's choices were wrong but had been afraid of losing Honoria's custom by arguing. In the light of this discovery, Amity suspected that the other garments in her wardrobe would be wrong for her. A spurt of anger forced her head up and she glared at the cinder path.

"I shant be a spineless doll, Muffin," she said with decision. The dog raised his head, cocking his ears as she reached down to scratch him. "I have been far too trusting. But now that I am aware of the situation I should be able to salvage something. Tomorrow I shall go back to Madame Bertoldi without Honoria and see what we can do to ensure that the rest of my wardrobe is suitable. For tonight I shall just hold my head up and smile."

Standing up, Amity brushed down her skirts and squared her shoulders. She picked up her bonnet, plopped it on her head and tied the ribbons. Having made a decision, she was determined to enjoy the rest of her morning stroll. Muffin lumbered to his feet, staring around at the park as though surprised to be there. Amity strolled along the path, stopping to peer more closely at the foliage along the way. The path turned to the right and just before she rounded the corner, Amity heard the sound of crying. She stopped, trying to locate the sound but Muffin bounded ahead and disappeared from sight. A shrill screech was choked off and Amity dashed around the corner.

A girl her own age was pressed against a bench, cowering away from Muffin. A handkerchief was clutched in her hand that she waved in front of the dog as though warding off evil. Amity hurried forward and grabbed a handful of fur then extended her hand to reassure the girl.

"He's really not fearsome," she said. "Come on, you great looby. You're frightening the lady."

Pulling Amity along, Muffin shambled forward until his nose was pressed against the black dress of the terrified girl. He raised his shaggy head, staring at her with his great soulful eyes, then lifted one hairy paw and placed it in her lap. The girl hiccupped once, raised her eyes to Amity's encouraging face, then stared down at the dog. After a moment's hesitation, she lifted the hand holding the handkerchief and tentatively stroked the hair on his back.

"I'm sorry I screamed, miss. He's a sweet old thing." Across the dog's back, the girl gave a watery smile to Amity.

Amity took in the reddened eyes and tear tracks on the girl's face and moved closer. Since she had just been feeling so desperate herself, she recognized the signs in the other girl. Pretending to notice nothing amiss, she sat down on the other end of the bench.

"This is Muffin. I'm ever so sorry he frightened you. As a rule we don't see anyone at this time of the morning." Amity bent her head patting the dog's back as the girl scrubbed at her tearstained cheeks.

"I 'spect it was the surprise," the girl. "When I set down there was not many jauntering around."

"Am I intruding?" Amity asked. "I didn't mean to be rude."

"No, please don't go," the girl said, lifting her hand as though to hold Amity in place. "I was sunk in a fit of the sullens as me mum used to say and that will never do. I would ever so much enjoy talking to someone."

"It's so nice to have a friend to talk to," Amity admitted. Smiling she introduced herself. "Muffin and I are new to London and we have made no particular friends. Sometimes it is very lonely."

The girl took her extended hand and bobbed her head as though making a curtsy. "I am Betta Twidleigh. I'm most pleased to meet you."

She then reached for the paw in her lap and shook Muffin who responded by opening his mouth and yawning.

Both girls giggled as the dog slumped at their feet, sprawling on the sun-warmed grass. For several minutes they sat in silence on the bench, then Amity coughed in embarrassment.

"I know it is the height of rudeness to intrude on your thoughts but sometimes a problem shared is less in weight." Amity flushed as Betta scanned her face but the girl did not seem insulted, but nodded her head in agreement.

"I am a thief," the girl blurted out as if the words were torn from her. At Amity's gasp of surprise, she added, "At least my mistress accused me of stealing. But in faith I did not take the bracelet."

"My apologies, Betta, for insulting you with such missish behavior but it was the surprise of your words," Amity said.

"It's of no mind, Miss Amity. I'd be happy to explain if you would care to listen." At Amity's quick nod, she continued, "I was abigail to Mistress Euphemia Teasdale. Her husband is in banking and she felt her social position required a body servant. I worked for her for two years. She was not too difficult a mistress."

Betta's brief words gave Amity a picture of a bleak existence in the household of a nouveau riche cit. Now that she had a chance to look more carefully, she could see that Betta was a well-spoken servant with the clean look of a country girl. She had a long face, rather plain but set off by warm brown eyes. Her black bombazine dress was neat and her brown hair was tucked beneath a spotless mobcap. There was a crisp, no nonsense air about the girl that Amity liked.

"Two days ago Mistress Teasdale attended a party without her husband. I had it from the parlor maid who is stepping out with the coachman that it was a gambling party." Betta made a moue of disapproval, sighed and then continued with her story. "She was very late in getting home and seemed overset. I helped her into her night things, put away her jewelry and then, since she seemed so distraught, brought her a cup of warm milk. She dismissed me and I hurried to bed, knowing I would have to be up in less than five hours."

Betta paused and stared at the bushes on the far side of the path. Her forehead was lined in puzzlement and her fingers pulled at the handkerchief in her lap. For a moment her chin quivered and Amity leaned forward and placed her own hand on top of the girl's in encouragement.

"Yesterday I was woken with a powerful commotion. Sarah, the cook, was shaking me and told me the mistress was screaming her head off. I hurried into my clothes and ran to her room to see her raise her finger to point at me in fury." Betta's face whitened at the memory of the terrible scene and she squeezed Amity's hand for courage. "Banker Teasdale was there and Mistress Teasdale was sobbing and tearing her hair. She called me terrible names and accused me of stealing her diamond bracelet."

"That is the outside of enough!" Amity declared, furious at the injustice done to her new friend. "Surely you explained you had not done any such thing."

Betta smiled at the girl's immediate defense. "I tried to but she would not listen. She kept calling me a sly, deceitful girl and turned me out without a letter of recommendation."

"The ungrateful woman!" Amity jumped to her feet in her agitation. Having been involved in the running of Beech House she was well aware of the impossibility of finding a job without a character. Whirling around, she faced Betta, glaring at the girl. "And I hope you told her so."

For the first time since they began talking, Betta's face broke into a genuine smile of enjoyment. She began to laugh until tears stood in her eyes while Amity continued to stare down at her. Finally she too realized the humor in the situation and sat back down, joining the other girl in laughter.

Betta wiped her streaming eyes. "With your red hair and your flashing eyes, you reminded me of an angry cock me mum used to keep."

"What happened to him?"

"We ate him."

At the words the girls once more fell into laughter. Muffin raised his head, staring at them through sleepy eyes, then snuffling in disgust, he slumped back on the grass.

"You have made me feel so much better," Betta said, patting Amity's arm when she could control her giggles.

"I'm glad for that," Amity said. "But what do you suppose did happen to the bracelet?"

Betta's long face turned serious. "I have thought and thought and I think I have discovered the answer. I do not recall seeing the bracelet when I put away the jewelry. I think Mistress Teasdale wagered the bracelet at the gambling party. As I mentioned earlier, she was very agitated when she returned. She kept wringing her hands and staring at the door connecting to her husband's suite of rooms. I think she decided to claim it was stolen rather than admit she had lost it gambling."

"What will you do now, Betta?" Amity asked.

"I spent the rest of yesterday going to the employment agencies but, without a letter I have little hope of securing a position."

Once more her chin began to tremble and Amity's heart went out to the girl. Since her arrival in London she had seen many areas of the city where the poor subsisted in filth and squalor. The thought that the neat little figure beside her should be reduced to such circumstances forced her to take charge.

"Then you shall come and be my abigail," she said.

"You're bamming me," Betta blurted out in astonishment.

"I'm not," Amity said. Her voice was serious as she turned to the girl. "I have a need for a new abigail. Emily has been taking care of me but she doesn't half like the job."

"Are you that sorry a mistress?" Betta asked.

"I will admit that I am ever so crabby in the morning but it is not for that Emily wants to return to the kitchens. She is walking out with one of the footmen and she says she never gets a chance to see him now that she spends so much time in my room. When she was a parlor maid, she could slip off to the kitchen whenever he was near." The more Amity thought about the idea of Betta as her abigail the more enthusiastic she became. "There is not a lot to do for me and I would be ever so pleased to have someone I could talk to."

Betta's face was expressionless as her huge eyes scanned Amity. It was evident the girl was sincere and she truly was in desperate straights but more than that there was an appeal behind the words which inclined Betta to accept the position without question. Her wide mouth pulled in a grin and she nodded her head in agreement.

"You are quite the answer to my prayers, Betta," Amity said, hugging the girl. "I have made a sad muddle of my life since I came to London."

Briefly Amity explained about Honoria and the folly of her wardrobe while Betta listened wide-eyed. Although Amity was mystified by the betrayal, the servant had little difficulty guessing that it was a simple matter of jealousy. She had already taken in the potential beauty of her new mistress and could well imagine the other young lady feeling threatened. She kept her opinion to herself, recognizing a sweet naiveté in Amity that she had no desire to despoil. There was time enough for her mistress to discover the many evils in the world.

"Will your guardian approve of your choice?" Betta asked her tone hesitant.

"He will be so busy with the details for the ball this evening that he will agree to anything." Amity chuckled. "He's been wearing a black scowl since the caterers and florists arrived and yesterday in desperation he abandoned the house for the sanctity of his club. Lady Grassmere is little help and although I have offered to be of assistance, the butler and the housekeeper have things well in train."

Reminded of the ball, Amity shivered as she thought about the dress she must wear tonight. As if they had been friends for many years, Betta assured her that between the two of them they ought to be able to figure out something to make the gown appear more suitable. Perhaps after all the dress might not be such a disaster. Much in charity with each other, the girls awakened the dog and hurried back to the townhouse. Putnam awaited her arrival and with a cautionary air warned her that Lord Max was awaiting her in the library. Amity introduced Betta and turned her new abigail over to the butler, then straightening her bonnet and brushing out her skirts, she hurried up the stairs and along the hall to the library. Opening the door, she peeped around the edge of the door.

The library was her favorite room in the townhouse. It was a large room with shelves of books on three sides, rising to the painted representations of the constellations on the ornate ceiling. The fourth wall held a charming window seat within the bow window and looked out on the walled garden with the mews behind. Max was seated in a deep leather chair behind an enormous mahogany desk. As if he sensed her presence, his head jerked up and he pierced her with his sharp green gaze.

"Devil take it, Amity! Where have you been?" Max shouted.

"I-I," she stammered in surprise at her guardian's furious expression.

"Don't just stand there like some gapeseed," he snapped. "What have you to say for yourself? It is my understanding that you and that ill-kempt beast of yours were gallivanting around town with no attendants. May I remind you that in London it takes little to give the old tabbies a disgust of you. Your reputation could be in shreds after just such an escapade."

"I'm sorry, Max, but...." Amity began but was cut off by her guardian.

"You are a hurly-burly girl. Just look at you. Your hair is flying about your face like some tousled baggage."

Max was astounded at the extent of his anger. He had sent for her after breakfast and was stunned to discover that she was nowhere to be found. He had been pacing the library ever since, all too aware of the dangers that could befall an innocent young girl and now she had the unmitigated gall to bounce into the room, cheeks flushed and hair spilling around her face in riotous curls like a veritable hoyden. The wide clear blue of her eyes held a wounded look that that served to exacerbated his annoyance. He glared at her and she had the grace to flush and dip her head in embarrassment.

"Have you any excuse for such behavior?" Max asked, his voice a thin stream of ice.

Amity peeked through her lowered lashes. Although he was still angry, the worst of his temper seemed to have been expelled. Perhaps this was not the best of times to approach the subject of her abigail but she suspected that he had given her enough of an opening that she could not afford to let it pass.

"I realize, sir, that my behavior appears unbecoming but I was on a particular errand this morning. You see, I have need of a new abigail," she ventured.

"You went out on the street to find a servant." The words were laced with sarcasm and Amity could see the muscles in his jaw tighten in returning anger.

"Oh no, milord. Honoria told me there were agencies that handled the employment of servants."

Amity did not feel that the mention of the woman's name was unfair. She did recall that they had spoken of various household problems and it was altogether possible that their discussion had included the hiring of servants. In any event, she hoped Max would not question her for specifics. She could see that the mention of the most correct Miss Waterston did much to alleviate her guardian's temper. For the first time that day, Amity felt grateful to Honoria.

"But, my girl, the butler should have applied to the agency."

Max sat down behind his desk, indicating that Amity should sit across from him. He rubbed a hand over his forehead, wondering how many other things he had failed to warn the impetuous child about. She had no concept of the dangers that lurked about the London streets. He stared into her clear blue eyes and wondered what it must be like to be so trusting of the world. On the one hand, he wanted to warn her but in the same breath he did not want to do anything to spoil her view of the world. He must protect her until he found a suitable parti, one he could entrust the girl to without fear she would come to harm.

"Now, Amity, perhaps you would be good enough to explain about the abigail."

In as few words as she could manage she outlined her need for an abigail and her success in discovering one she thought quite suitable. She tried to stick as close to the truth as she could and must have succeeded for at the end Max nodded his agreement.

"Kennicut's Employment Register is quite reputable. And this Betta came well recommended?" Max asked.

"She had been abigail to a banker's wife for several years," Amity evaded, then hurried on before he could question her further. "But more to the point, sir, the girl is well spoken and very eager to please. I liked her mightily."

"I wish you had come to me before you plunged into such a situation. However I do applaud your attempt to handle your own affairs," Max said, wishing to be fair. He was unwilling to capitulate entirely to Amity's outrageous adventure. She needed to learn that there was a proper way to do things. "My suggestion would be to try her for the week. If at the end of that time, we are both"-he stressed the word-"satisfied, she will remain."

Amity's face beamed with pleasure and she leaped up, clapping her hands in delight. Throwing a kiss to her bemused guardian, she scampered out of the room. Max remained seated, touched by the joy his ward found in such small things. He was sorry now that he had shouted at her. His hand reached inside his coat and he extracted a velvet box that he laid on the desk. His long fingers tapped on the lid and he pictured the expression on Amity's face when he presented her with the string of pearls.

He had intended she wear them on this special evening. He had toyed with the idea of making Amity's debut an occasion of double celebration by announcing his betrothal to Honoria. He had chided himself for his failure to declare his intentions to Miss Waterston but he found he was loath to commit himself. It was not that he had changed his mind. Honoria was everything he wanted in a bride. His mind had been occupied with the problem of Amity and he had not had the opportunity to settle his own affairs. Once his ward was launched he would speak to Honoria about their own relationship.

Besides, this evening should be a singular celebration for Amity. He was pleased with how well she had adapted to her new life. He could see that once he had explained the qualities that she must aspire to, the girl had striven to become more ladylike.

Dealing with his ward was no different than dealing with any other woman. One needed only to impress on the girl that things must be done, in an ordered fashion. Once she gave up her hoyden ways, she would make the perfect wife for any man. Her bursts of enthusiasm and rash behavior would soon vanish and her behavior would be a model of decorum. He scratched his chin, wondering why the picture of Amity as the soul of docility should sit so ill on his mind.