Chapter Thirteen

VALERIA SAID, “LET ME THINK…yes. Today I shall wear the black, Joan.”

The maid giggled. “Yes, ma’am. Would that be the black, or the other black?”

“No, I meant the black.” In truth, Valeria was depressed by having to wear mourning. The code of mourning for women dictated that their dresses must be made of material with no sheen; only flat matte black was acceptable. The dresses that Valeria and Regina had ordered were of black crape, a dull thick silk, and bombazine, a silk-and-wool blend. Although the black dresses and bonnets might be trimmed, absolutely nothing shiny was to be worn, such as satin ribbons, and particularly not jewelry. The only acceptable ornament was beads of jet, a dull black stone made from coal. Valeria had no jet jewelry, and so her only ornament for her hair was black grosgrain ribbon.

As she dressed, she reflected that always wearing grim black wasn’t the only thing that made her despondent. The truth was that she felt like the worst hypocrite. She didn’t mourn for the Earl of Maledon; she couldn’t. With every passing day since he died, it seemed that she had been faced with more and more evidence of his corruption and betrayals of his family, and herself. Trying to forgive him was no longer even a question. Trying not to hate him took all her spiritual energy.

Anyway, I’m wearing mourning for Mamma and St. John, not for him, she told herself.

The morning was cold and dreary; rain spattered on the windows. Joan said as she worked on Valeria’s hair, “It’s right cold in here, isn’t it, ma’am? I’ll have to tell Mr. Trueman we need to bring up more kindling and coal of the mornings.”

Valeria had noted that Joan, along with the other servants, even Trueman, had started to address her with the more respectful ma’am or madam, instead of the juvenile miss. She asked, “How are the servants coping, Joan?”

“Oh, we was all shocked, of course. We none of us knew he was so sick, although Mrs. Banyard did allow a long time ago she thought he’d gone lunatic. Mr. Trueman took it hard, he’s always been that loyal to his lordship. We all were, as is right for servants, but some of us had come to have hard feelings, you might say. Pertick’ly over the last some years, it was hard for us to see her ladyship…well, you know. And then there’s that Mr. Thrale, he’s been the bane of the servants’ hall ever since he came. We’re right glad he’s going, ma’am, even if we’re sorry it’s because his lordship died.”

“What about Thrale?” Valeria demanded.

Joan’s mouth tightened. “He’s lazy, he takes advantage, like he made Ned and Royce iron his lordship’s neckcloths and wash his smallclothes. He even made Ned shine his lordship’s boots, which is meant to be a valet’s pride, the sheen of his master’s boots, and there! Didn’t he always tell his lordship that it was his own secret polish that made his boots look so fine?

“But the worst of it is that he’s such a bother to the maids. Won’t keep his hands to himself. And poor silly little Callie and Marcia, he’s got them so swoggled they’re at each other’s throats all the time, trying to get his attention. It’s sickening.” Callie was the fourth housemaid, and Marcia was the second kitchen maid.

In a hard voice Valeria asked, “And Trueman allows this?”

Joan shrugged. “Mr. Thrale just thumbs his nose at Mr. Trueman. You know, ma’am, the valet isn’t like the other servants, just as the lady’s maid is different. They’re really under the lord and lady, not the butler or housekeeper. His lordship wouldn’t never listen to anything about Mr. Thrale, I think Mr. Trueman only tried the one time. After that we all knew it was useless.”

“Has he ever bothered you?”

“Oh, he tried, once, when he first came, five years ago, and I was the fourth housemaid, just out of the scullery,” she replied with a satisfied cat’s smile. “But he found that I’m not so foolish as to fall for his guff. And my brothers were that angry with him. They couldn’t do much, you know, but Mr. Thrale did find he had wet coal, cold tea, and burnt toast for weeks. Once Royce even greased the bottom of his boots, and he almost slid down the stairs on his—well, you know, ma’am.”

“I had no idea, and I know my mother didn’t either,” Valeria said wrathfully. “Every single day something happens that makes me wonder if I shouldn’t take the veil, so I wouldn’t ever have to see another man again as long as I live!”

“Now, ma’am,” Joan said soothingly, “There are good men, like your father. Miss Platt’s told us all about him. And there’s your brother, and my brothers, and my father, and my uncles, and my cousins. And there’s Lord Hylton, all of us think he’s just fine. And us girls think he’s maybe the handsomest man that ever was!”

“Lord Hylton, just fine!” Valeria cried. “I think he’s proud and cold and arrogant. He looks down his nose at all of us mere mortals, with our foibles and follies!”

“Well, it is such a fine nose. Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am, maybe it’s just that we don’t know his lordship, of course, we’re just the servants and we’ve barely set eyes on him. Except for Ned,” she added carefully, “and he says his lordship’s right kind and grateful, and he was careful to ask if valeting him isn’t adding too much work on Ned. Unusual, that, if you ask me.”

Valeria frowned. Here was proof of Alastair Hylton’s character that utterly disputed her own view of him. But then again, she did see that he truly was good to her mother, and he even troubled to take time with St. John. It was his attitude toward her that was confusing. He seemed to continually view her with a critical eye, and she always fell short.

To add to her perturbation, Valeria did wholeheartedly agree with Joan: she thought that Alastair Hylton was an incredibly handsome man. She admired everything about him: his fine physique, his classical features, his aura of physical power. Part of her was strongly physically attracted to him, while another part of her was repelled by his cold detachment. When Valeria was with him her thoughts were always in turmoil.

As Joan finished arranging the ribbon in Valeria’s hair she said thoughtfully, “You know, ma’am…maybe if you would ask his lordship—Lord Hylton, I mean—to speak to Mr. Thrale, it might put a stop to his shenanigans.”

“Ask Lord Hylton—no, that’s impossible! Besides, Thrale is leaving very soon.”

“Mm, would you know, exactly, how soon, ma’am? Because it appears to all of us that he’s settled in, like, and won’t be going anywhere for a while,” Joan said disdainfully. “He lays about in his room all morning, then comes down to the servants’ hall in the afternoons so’s he can torment poor Laurie and Callie. He’s said he’s set for now, that Lady Maledon—and he calls her ladyship that, too, the toad—said he can stay as long as he wants, until he finds a gentleman that suits him, so he says he’s not obliged to be in any hurry, at all.”

“What! Why, that lying, sneaking cad,” Valeria said with gritted teeth.

“In my mind that’s too much of a compliment for him,” Joan asserted. “I know some words that a lady like you never heard, ma’am, and I wouldn’t never say them out loud, but no one can stop me thinking them.”

One sneaky corner of Valeria’s mind wondered what those words were, but she made herself concentrate on this thorny problem. What should she do? What could she do? She thought, I could just send him packing, but should I? It’s true that Maledon’s death was so sudden that it did leave Thrale in a terrible position. I know it must take time to find a position as a valet…but how much time? To be fair, his behavior is atrocious, but he’s no different from any other man who abuses his position, and that’s because my stepfather allowed it! But how am I to know…should I make him leave now? If I don’t make him leave, however am I to stop him bothering the maids?

Valeria was not only confused in trying to understand the fair and just manner to deal with Thrale, she felt pure revulsion in contemplating talking to him about his lecherous behavior. Merely thinking of it disgusted her, and she could see no possible way she could look Thrale straight in the face and speak of it.

With dismay she realized that here, indeed, was a situation that demanded a man’s management. She would have to talk to Alastair Hylton after all.

This caused her much consternation as she went down to breakfast. She had such a strong aversion to demonstrating any dependence on Lord Hylton that she considered simply allowing the Thrale situation to play itself out. But she knew she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t fair to the servants, and in truth, it would be shirking her responsibility to represent the best interests of her mother and brother. Thrale was their employee, and so he was, in effect, their responsibility, but Valeria was now taking on all accountability for St. John’s decisions, and it was impossible to think of her mother’s having to confront Thrale. It was even more unthinkable for Regina to be forced to take notice of such sordid behavior than it was for Valeria to do so. And that left…Alastair, Lord Hylton.

Everyone else was already assembled at breakfast. Valeria looked with secret envy at Elyse’s pretty cream-colored morning dress and pink shawl, and at Lady Hylton’s delicate white lace fichu. Lord and Lady Lydgate, and Lady Hylton, did not dress in mourning garb, for it would have been rather ostentatious since they were such distant relations. Lord Hylton wore a black armband, mainly because, Valeria thought, he had a connection that no one else had, that of nearest male blood kin to Lord Maledon, aside from St. John.

Regina was still a wan shadow of her former glowing beauty, but each day she seemed to be a little better. Valeria saw with satisfaction that she was eating with more appetite, having filled her plate with toast with marmalade and bacon. Lord Lydgate was saying to Alastair, “Can’t possibly go shooting in this foul weather. Birds just huddle up and refuse to flush, and I can’t say I blame them.”

“I’m going for a ride anyway,” Alastair said. “I start feeling cramped up when I’m too long indoors.”

“I’m going out this morning too,” Valeria said. “I’ve been thinking about Mr. Wheeler’s report on the cottages, and I’m going to go see about them.”

“But surely there’s no need for you to do that, Miss Segrave,” Alastair said. “Wheeler’s report on the needed repairs was quite thorough.”

“Yes, it was. But I feel that I need to get Mr. Wheeler, and the cottagers, accustomed to my attending to these matters,” Valeria replied. “Surely you can see my reasoning.”

“Not really, no,” Alastair said. “I think that Wheeler, along with everyone else concerned, understands our positions as trustees very well. And certainly I don’t think it’s wise for you to go wandering all over the estate in a dismal cold rain.”

“Why is it just fine for you to go riding, but it’s foolish for me?” Valeria argued. “You see, that’s just the sort of attitude I’m speaking of. You can gallop around and take charge of everyone, while I’m just a girl who’s too delicate to get out in the rain.”

“You’re willfully misunderstanding me,” Alastair said sharply. “All I meant was that it’s really not necessary for you to tour the cottages right now, this morning.”

Lady Hylton said, “You know, Regina, it never occurred to me that St. John’s trustees would spend their time continually arguing. Perhaps we should have appointed me as a third trustee to keep the other two in check.”

With mild amusement Regina said, “Valeria, surely you must see that what Lord Hylton says is true. It’s really not such an emergency that you must go out in the rain for hours and subject yourself to the possibility of getting a cold or fever, or both.”

“But I—yes, Mamma,” Valeria begrudgingly replied, then added under her breath, “but I can’t see why everyone isn’t so worried that Lord Hylton will catch a cold or fever.”

Elyse said, “Because he’s a man, and if he wants to go out riding in a rainstorm, then that’s all well and good, and if he comes down with a raging fever, he will still have the satisfaction of knowing that no one can dictate to him; he makes his own decisions, as stupid as they are. I’d like to think that women have more sense.”

“I never get raging fevers,” Alastair said, “and I am going riding, even if every woman here thinks I’m an imbecile.”

“There, you see?” Lady Hylton said with satisfaction. “There’s a man for you.”

They managed to finish breakfast without Alastair and Valeria getting into another argument. Everyone went into the sitting area, but Valeria stopped Alastair and said, “Lord Hylton, there is a matter I’d like to discuss with you. Would you join me in the study?”

“Of course.”

As they left the others and went into the study, Valeria reflected how very odd it was that no one, not even her mother, took any notice of their being alone together. Young ladies were supposed never to be alone with men. It was the peculiarity of the circumstances that made it necessary, for in the past days Valeria and Alastair had spent many hours going over bookkeeping ledgers, tradesmen’s accounts, and Mr. Stanhope’s reports. It would have been ludicrous for Lady Maledon or Lady Hylton to sit in the study with them. It was still difficult for Valeria, however, even though it was perfectly proper. Of necessity the two of them were required to sit close at the desk, to go over documents together, and Valeria found that physical nearness to him caused her so much confusion she could hardly think. Now Valeria hurried to sit in one of the side chairs drawn up to the refectory table, and Alastair sat across from her.

“How may I be of assistance, Miss Segrave?” he asked with his customary formality.

Valeria hesitated for a long time, then finally said tentatively, “You know Thrale, my stepfather’s valet? It’s—it concerns him, and I—I have to admit—it’s such a—”

“I’m sure I can help,” Alastair said coolly. “Please just tell me the facts.”

This time his neutral tone made Valeria feel less uncomfortable. She told him everything, relating the conversation with her and her mother, and what Joan had told her, and her own confusion about the most just course to take. “It’s maddening, I’m quite at a loss as to what to do,” she finished with frustration.

“I’m well aware that you aren’t going to appreciate this, but I must be honest,” Alastair said ironically. “No lady should be in this predicament, and it’s only Maledon’s fault that you are.”

“Actually, I do agree with you. That’s why I’ve asked your assistance.”

Alastair said, “I’m fairly amazed, and flattered, ma’am. I assure you that I can deal with Thrale. Now, you said that the maid told you that Thrale actually didn’t attend to Maledon’s dress and boots himself?”

Irately Valeria demanded, “Are you telling me that the thing that bothers you most about what I’ve just told you is that he didn’t shine Maledon’s boots? That, in your mind, is the most salient point?”

Alastair frigidly replied, “Ma’am, I already said that I’ll deal with him, and by that I meant that I will immediately put a stop to Thrale’s making a nuisance of himself with the maids. The other problem, as I see it, is his apparent intention of taking a holiday, as it were, instead of immediately seeking a new position. If I am to consider finding him a new position, which I assume is what you wish, then I must know his qualifications as a valet. If he is in fact not qualified for the position, then I won’t consider recommending him to a man of my acquaintance.”

“But how can you consider recommending such a man?” Valeria said angrily. “When you know that he abuses young girls who have no possible defense, or recourse?”

“I thought I would recommend him to one of my more disreputable friends,” Alastair said sarcastically. “But I wouldn’t consider it if he can’t starch a neckcloth correctly.”

“Lord Hylton, you really can be the most exasperating man!” Valeria rasped, jumping up to pace.

With a pained expression Alastair rose from his seat. “Miss Segrave, I must again point out to you that in Polite Society ladies do not bound up out of their seats and fling themselves about the room in a temper. I’ve observed that you never do such things when you’re with your mother, and so I know that she has taught you that ladies must be calm and composed at all times. I can only think that you must make a decision to keep your tempestuous emotions under good regulation.”

“I beg you will not speak to me in such a condescending manner!” Valeria stiffly sat back down. “You have no right to dictate to me, sir.”

“I’m telling you this because you will only do injury to your reputation, Miss Segrave. Surely you must know that what I say is true. Well-bred ladies don’t behave in such a wild, rash manner.”

Valeria knew he was perfectly correct. She didn’t allow her temper to get the better of her in front of her mother, because she knew it would distress her mother, and it would distress her mother because it was, in truth, very ill-mannered to have temper tantrums, she thought with shame. Even St. John didn’t do such things.

Still Valeria was infuriated by Alastair’s correction. Stiffly she said, “Very well, I understand and will attempt to behave in a more ladylike fashion. Now, may we return to the subject at hand? So you are inclined to find a position for Thrale?”

“I was considering it, yes, but now I’m not sure, after what you’ve told me concerning his laziness. I know this is very difficult for you to understand, but the fact that he’s a nuisance to the maids is not really pertinent. If he were to be employed by a man who would keep him in check, he couldn’t do much damage.”

“On the contrary, it’s not at all difficult for me to understand. I know that there are men like him everywhere. I just don’t want such men here.”

“I know I may seem callous, Miss Segrave, but I want to assure you that I personally find such men abhorrent,” Alastair said evenly. “In fact, I see no reason why I should exert myself to help Thrale. It was more than fair of you to offer him a month’s wages. He has been here…today is the twentieth? He’s been here for six days. I will tell him that he can stay at Bellegarde for one more week, and then he must leave.”

Valeria sighed and thought, Regardless of his personal animosity toward me, I am so much relieved…

She said quietly, “Thank you, sir. I truly appreciate your help in this matter.”

Alastair’s stern face softened a bit. “Ma’am, it is my honor, and my pleasure.”

*  *  *

That night after dinner Regina suggested they go to the music room. It was actually one end of a large room; at the other end was the card room, with its comfortable seating area by an enormous fireplace. They all settled down close to it, luxuriating in the hot snapping fire. The night was stormy and cold, but the room was warm and comforting.

“Valeria, dear, won’t you play for us?” Regina asked. “It seems so long since we’ve had music.”

“Mamma, Elyse is much more accomplished than I,” Valeria said.

“I don’t think so,” Regina said gently. “I know you don’t like to perform, but I really would enjoy that piece by Herr Beethoven, the one you played for me and St. John when he was so ill.”

Valeria considered her mother. That afternoon Regina, with Lady Hylton’s help, had gone through Lord Maledon’s extensive wardrobe. They had decided what clothing and accessories were to be given away, and what was to be kept for St. John. Regina had told Valeria that she had decided to give Thrale three barely worn suits of coat, waistcoat, and breeches, two top hats, an ebony walking stick, and a gold watch and chain. It had galled Valeria, but of course she had said nothing. Tonight her mother seemed saddened and weary.

“All right, Mamma, I will play, but only for you,” she said with a smile.

She went to the pianoforte, found the music, and began to play Beethoven’s Silencio. It was a long piece, and after the first few pages Valeria found that she didn’t really need the sheet music; she had in fact memorized the sonata without realizing it. She played, and watched her mother, who stared into the fire with what seemed to be a forlorn, lost expression. But as the quiet, restful music went on, Regina’s face gradually took on a look of peace.

When a person plays such tranquil, soft music, in some drawing rooms it becomes background to conversation. But here no one said a word. Valeria was momentarily distracted by the intent expression on Alastair’s face. He never took his eyes from her, and Valeria, to her astonishment, thought that he looked utterly absorbed—perhaps even enthralled—by the music.

When the last soft notes faded away, there was only silence in the room for long moments. Then everyone started applauding, and Valeria rose from the bench and returned to her chair next to Alastair. Lady Hylton said, “Valeria, I had no idea you were so gifted! Now that I think of it, I’ve never once heard you play.”

“That’s because she refuses to play, except when I beg her to,” Regina said. “And even I cannot persuade her to sing.”

“That’s because I sound like the peacocks wailing,” Valeria said. “And I just don’t like to play very much. It’s not something I particularly enjoy.”

“But whyever not?” Elyse asked. “It seems that having such a gift would give you great pleasure.”

Carelessly Valeria said, “It’s not really such a great gift. Just about anyone can read sheet music and depress the correct keys.”

Alastair said, “That’s possibly the grossest oversimplification I’ve ever heard. You played that magnificently, Miss Segrave.”

“Thank you, sir,” Valeria said uncomfortably.

He looked at her with a penetrating stare. “What is the real reason, Miss Segrave? Why don’t you like to play?”

Valeria looked around the room. All of them, even her mother, were watching her with curiosity. “I—it’s difficult to explain, I don’t think you would understand.”

As if she had spoken only to him, Alastair said, “Please at least allow me the opportunity to try.”

Valeria frowned and finally answered with some difficulty, “It’s just that I can’t—lose myself in music, as I do when I’m painting. It doesn’t really touch me, it doesn’t—touch my heart, or spirit. Even though I suppose I am proficient at the pianoforte, it gives me no real pleasure to play, and particularly I dislike performing for an audience. It makes me feel like a fraud.”

Alastair stared at her incredulously, and Valeria said with exasperation, “I knew you would not understand.”

“Oh, but I do, perfectly,” he said, now with amusement. “It simply astounds me, Miss Segrave, the way you snarl yourself up in so many delicately obscure moral quandaries. You’re very hard on yourself.”

Valeria said with arid amusement, “Oh, but I have never told myself that I was rash, wild, and tempestuous, and I have never accused myself of flinging myself about the room. That would, indeed, be hard on me.”

Alastair rose from his seat next to her and made a mocking bow. “That is true, Miss Segrave. From now on I will allow you to punish you for your behavior.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“At your service, madam.”

Lord Lydgate’s face was a study in bewilderment. “Do you know what they’re talking about, Elyse?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” she answered. “Perhaps we’d best leave them to it.”

Regina and Lady Hylton exchanged secret, knowing smiles.