“Doesn’t your mother need you?” Lady Gray had declined in the last two years. She rarely left the sofa, and spent most of her time pressing cool cloths to her forehead and demanding special broths and preparations.
Lavinia shrugged. “I shall buy her a new bonnet, and she will be satisfied.”
“We could tell everyone that we are going to Manchester to visit the shops,” Diana said, inspired. “Godfrey can remain in the nursery with Artie.”
“Yes!” Lavinia clapped her hands. “We will find you a charming house. Whatever you do, you mustn’t run away the way you did last time.”
Diana replaced Godfrey’s shirts in the wardrobe. She had been dreading telling the duke and duchess, let alone North and Lady Knowe, about her decision to move to Manchester.
It would be much easier if she had already found a house. Perhaps she could work for the milliner Lavinia loved so much. She didn’t want to be dependent on anyone.
“We want to come with you,” Artie protested, when Diana told them she was leaving for a couple of days. “Mama could come too.”
The three of them had never been separated since the moment Diana entered the nursery. “I’ll be back very soon,” she promised.
“The baby birds might be born while you’re gone!” Artie cried.
In the end they gave her tight hugs and covered her face with kisses. By contrast, North betrayed no emotion when Diana informed him that she and Lavinia were going to Manchester for a couple of days.
Prism assigned Hickett, one of the senior grooms, to take them to Manchester. Hickett was a stout man with a wrinkled face whose habitual expression resembled Artie’s when she needed a nap.
She and Lavinia climbed into His Grace’s solid, bulbous traveling coach with the ducal crest on the door. It was terribly generous of him to allow them to use it.
“Knock if you need the coach stopped,” Hickett said, securing their valises in the boot. “We should reach Manchester in two hours if we aren’t delayed. We’ll stay at the Royal George.”
Lavinia plopped down on a seat, looking unusually vexed, given that she had a generally sunny disposition. The moment Hickett closed the door, she burst out, “Sometimes I cannot bear my mother!”
“I can understand,” Diana said, seeing no reason to prevaricate. In her opinion, Lady Gray was intolerably selfish.
“She had a tantrum that would have been shameful on Artie’s part. Weeping, and carrying on about how selfish I am, merely because I am leaving her for two nights. What will she do when I marry?”
“I suspect she’ll find a companion, and badger her instead,” Diana said.
“That’s why you won’t stay with us,” Lavinia gasped, her eyes rounding. “Oh, Diana, you’re right to move to Manchester. She’s my mother, so I have no choice, but you would be made miserable.”
“Truthfully, I do not believe your mother and I could live harmoniously together,” Diana admitted. “I think I am unfitted to be Lady Gray’s companion.”
“I wouldn’t have told you this, Diana, but she is simply beastly about Godfrey. As if it’s his fault that his parents weren’t married!”
Diana was unsurprised, since Lady Gray emitted an audible moan if anyone mentioned Godfrey’s name in her presence.
“She refused to give me any money to spend in Manchester,” Lavinia spat, her hands curling into fists. “I swear I am going to marry the first man who asks me.”
“Perhaps we should turn back,” Diana said, her brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I have enough to pay for the Royal George.”
“The duke’s coachman will cover everything. She merely did it to be unpleasant. Because she knows I love that milliner, and she wants to make me unhappy. She screams at me, and then she accuses me of giving her a nervous spasm, takes her soothing drops, and doesn’t wake up for a whole day, sometimes.”
Diana moved across to sit beside Lavinia and took her hand. “Obviously, you could marry within a month of returning to London if you wish. Your suitors are legion.”
“My suitors have probably married by now,” Lavinia said morosely. Then she shook herself. “Do forgive me. I am weary of the way my mother treats me. I am an heiress, after all, yet she won’t give me any pin money.”
“You can always live with me in Manchester,” Diana said, kissing her cheek.
Lavinia’s cheerful smile broke out again. “I made up my mind not to be thwarted by her. Look at this!” She reached into her knotting bag and drew out a long strand of pearls.
“They’re lovely,” Diana said, somewhat puzzled.
“I intend to sell them,” Lavinia announced. “I know how it’s done, because one of my friends is always selling her pearls when her allowance runs low, and buying the string back the next month. I’ll take them to a jeweler, an excellent one, of course, so he doesn’t cheat me.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Diana asked. “You won’t be able to buy them back next month; you’ll be in London, not Manchester.”
“I’ve never liked these pearls. My aunt Mildred gave me the string with a withering remark about how it would draw attention to my only asset.”
“That was unkind, and equally untrue.”
“I shall happily turn her gift into money. We will have to pay the house agent, after all. We can’t count on His Grace’s coachman for that!”
Diana had a guilty feeling that the duke oughtn’t to pay for their stay in the hotel, but she couldn’t deny that she felt better with every turn of the coach wheels taking her farther from North, and the castle.
“Perhaps we should ask Hickett to find us a less costly hotel than the Royal George,” Lavinia said a while later, showing that she didn’t feel entirely comfortable about relying on His Grace’s generosity either.
“I agree,” Diana said, with relief. “After all, neither of us is a true guest of the duke. I came to the castle under false pretenses, and you arrived in search of me.”
“My mother told me to instruct His Grace’s coachman to pay for everything, including meals and gratuities for our chambermaid,” Lavinia said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but neither of our mothers is precisely ethical.”
“A depressing inheritance,” Diana agreed. “My mother will never forgive me for taking employment as a governess.”
“It would have served her right if you’d become a duchess, and never acknowledged her thereafter,” Lavinia muttered.
Hickett was too experienced a servant to betray any surprise when they explained their new plans. His sister and her husband owned an inn, he told them, and he promised to get them a clean, safe room there. Moreover, he voiced no objection to taking Miss Gray to visit one of the best jewelers in the city.
To the dismay of the grooms at the Royal George—a magnificent establishment that would probably cost the equivalent of one of Lavinia’s pearls for a single night—the Duke of Lindow’s carriage trundled off to a considerably humbler establishment, the Beetle & Cheese.
Hickett’s sister, a Mrs. Barley, set them up in a cunning little room tucked under the eaves, and Lavinia declared herself perfectly delighted. “Just look how adorable this sloping ceiling is,” she cried, bouncing on the bed. “I wish Parth could see me now. He wouldn’t think I am such an extravagant person, would he?”
Diana wasn’t sure what Parth had to do with it, but Lavinia took herself off with Hickett, refusing to permit Diana to accompany her to the jeweler’s. “They’ll know from your face that you would accept a low price.”
Having nothing to do until Lavinia’s return, Diana ventured downstairs, where she had a fascinating conversation with Mrs. Barley. “The problem is keeping barmaids,” the woman lamented. “They run off with men, they go home to their mothers . . . Tonight is the same story. I have no one to stand behind the bar and draw pints.”
“How hard can it be?” Diana asked. “I should think you’d have no trouble filling the position.”
“It’s work,” Mrs. Barley explained. “In my
opinion, there’s many a lazy piece that would rather lie in, even though a good barmaid can make over four shillings a night!”
Diana gaped at that information. “More than any governess is paid.”
“That’s for an excellent barmaid,” Mrs. Barley said. “One as tempts the men into giving her tips, if you see what I mean.”
They parted on the best of terms, and Diana resolved that once she moved to Manchester, she would definitely stop by the Beetle & Cheese occasionally to say hello to Mrs. Barley.
Not merely because she might learn all the gossip from the castle either.
Back in their little room, she took a nap and dreamed of North. She jumped out of her skin when her cousin threw open the door to their room. “They are counterfeit!” Lavinia cried.
Diana sat up, blinking. “What?”
“My pearls!” Lavinia shut the door behind her. “They aren’t worth more than a few pence. What’s more, my earrings . . . do you see these earrings?”
She sat down beside Diana. “Rubies?” Diana ventured.
“Red paste that isn’t worth tuppence,” Lavinia stated. “My father gave me these on my fifteenth birthday. I thought the other day that they weren’t sparkling the way they used to.”
“Oh, no,” Diana cried, slapping her hand over her mouth.
“That’s right,” Lavinia said grimly. “My rubies have been stolen, as have the pearls. The jeweler sees it all the time. A thief finds work as an upstairs maid, and over a few months, the woman takes away one piece of jewelry and then another to be copied. Do you know how often my mother dismisses the domestic help?”
Diana shook her head.
“I can think of thirty or forty suspects, on both sides of the Channel. My jewelry is gone, and I’m sure that my mother’s is lost as well. Gone for good.”
“Oh, Lavinia, I’m so sorry!” Diana cried.
After a moment, Lavinia’s brow cleared. “I’ve never loved bedecking myself in jewels anyway. A woman should be the jewel, don’t you think?”
Diana smiled at her. “I know many women who would be in hysterics.”
“My mother has all the talent for hysterics in my family,” Lavinia said dryly. “The problem is that we haven’t money to give to a house agent. Hickett can pay for our room and board, of course. My mother will repay him.”
“Your mother will be terribly upset about your jewelry,” Diana said, imagining the scene.
“She’s already peculiar about money,” Lavinia said, nodding. “This will give her another nervous turn.”
“I have an idea!”
“No,” Lavinia said, a moment later. “Are you cracked, Diana? Completely deranged? You are a lady.”
“Not tonight,” Diana said, grinning. “Tonight I shall be a barmaid. I shall earn the price of our room!”
Lavinia shook her head. “I had no idea how impulsive you really are.”
“It’s a bit mad,” Diana conceded. “But how hard can it be? A barmaid merely stands behind the bar all night long.”
“I think there’s more to it than that,” Lavinia said. “What if someone we know sees you, Diana?”
“This is the Beetle & Cheese, Lavinia!” Diana said. “Who would see me? Think about it.”
“You can’t do it alone. I’ll join you behind the bar.”
“No,” Diana said. “Absolutely not. You would be ruined, and you are a member of polite society. I can try something as mad as this because I don’t care.”
Lavinia chewed on her lower lip. “It’s improper.”
“You wanted to be ethical,” Diana said encouragingly. “Besides, Lavinia, I could always walk out if I feel uncomfortable.”
She found herself laughing at Lavinia’s incredulous look. “You really are not a lady,” her cousin exclaimed. “You’re excited at the idea, aren’t you?”
Diana nodded.
“Why? That’s what I don’t understand. No lady would wish to be a barmaid!”
“I don’t want to be a barmaid. I’m just curious to see what it’s like.”
“Mad,” Lavinia said with conviction. “Utterly deranged.”
“You mustn’t be seen in the tavern,” Diana told her.
“It will not affect my reputation.” Lavinia looked supremely confident. “I am perfectly capable of stopping by a public room for a glass of lemonade, properly escorted by the duke’s servants, of course.”
“Not at night,” Diana said.
Lavinia gave in. “Well, either Hickett or a groom has to stay with you in the room, then.”
“Very well,” Diana said. “That’s reasonable. I’ll ask Hickett to put a groom in the corner where he can keep an eye on me.”
Lavinia clapped her hands and her eyes lit up. “What do you think a barmaid wears, Diana? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a costume.”
Chapter Twenty-three
North spent the day going over the estate books his aunt had been keeping while he was gone. They confirmed what she had told him: that income had increased in two of the six ducal estates. At the sound of an excited cacophony of voices in the entry—the greater part of his family, by the sound of it—he remained bent over the ledgers.
He didn’t look up until the door to the library opened.
His father stood there. “North.”
North came to his feet. “Father?”
“Hickett has returned from Manchester.”
North’s fingers curled hard around the edge of the desk. “By himself? He left Diana there?”
“Hickett reports that she has decided to play barmaid for the night,” his father said wryly. “He failed to persuade her that it was a poor idea, so he returned to the castle.” Then he added, as if to himself, “If my sister couldn’t change Diana’s mind about being a governess, poor Hickett was bound to fail.”
A barmaid? North was speechless.
“Diana is no duchess, but she may be one of the most intrepid women I’ve had the pleasure to meet,” his father said, a smile playing around his lips. “Oh, and Godfrey’s great-uncle has just arrived. That would be the Laird of Fennis.”
North strode into the entryway. It was full of Wildes, talking at once. His eyes went to Godfrey, who was crying. Artie was holding his hand, and the duchess was trying to soothe him.
The moment he saw North, Godfrey dropped Artie’s hand and ran to him. North scooped him up. “We’ll go to her,” he said, as the little boy buried his face in North’s neck, his body shuddering with sobs.
North raised his voice. “Prism, I need a carriage. A fast carriage.”
“Hickett has the small traveling coach ready for you, my lord,” Prism said.
“Please have my bag put in the carriage, along with Godfrey’s necessities.”
His father joined them, accompanied by a middle-aged man with hair like a rusty gate, liberally sprinkled with white. “May I introduce my son, Lord Roland,” His Grace said. From the tone in his voice, he was highly amused. “North, this is Diarmid Ewing, the Laird of Fennis—Archibald Ewing’s uncle and thus Godfrey’s great-uncle.”
North nodded. “Please forgive me for not bowing, my lord.” Godfrey’s narrow shoulders stilled under North’s comforting hand but he kept his face hidden.
“I traveled from the Highlands in hopes of gaining some acquaintance with my great-nephew,” the laird rumbled in a strong Scottish accent.
“We will return tomorrow evening,” North said. “Godfrey will be happy to spend time with you then.” He ignored the way Godfrey shook his head.
“I have urgent business in London,” the laird said, his face settling into disappointed lines.
Godfrey clung harder to North.
Hickett broke in. “I couldn’t convince Miss Belgrave, my lord.” His forehead was sweaty. “My sister’s just the same, and neither of them would listen. I left a groom in the public room, but if we leave at once, we’ll arrive within an hour of the pub’s opening.”
“Believe me, I understand,” North said. “I do
n’t blame you.”
“We can change horses at the King’s Elbow, in Headington,” the coachman said anxiously.
“I’m coming,” North said, with a nod.
From the other side of the entry, Lady Knowe cried, “Put on your pelisse, Ophelia! We have to arrive in time to see Diana draw a pint! There’s a sight not many will see in their lifetimes.” She began shooing everyone out the front door into the courtyard.
It seemed that the whole lot of them were traveling to Manchester with North and Godfrey.
“May I suggest that you accompany us to Manchester?” his father asked the laird. “The Wilde family intends to join Godfrey’s aunt, Miss Belgrave, there.”
The laird looked aghast. “I was led to understand that Miss Belgrave was forced to work in a nursery to support my great-nephew. Are you saying that she has become a barmaid?”
North strode out the door, leaving his father to make explanations.
The family was sorting itself into two large carriages. Leonidas was bellowing with laughter and threatening to open a tavern of his own, to be operated by the family. Artie was refusing to leave because the baby finches still had not made an appearance. Aunt Knowe was directing a groom to ride ahead and alert the Royal George that the Wildes would be arriving in two or three hours, and would require an entire floor. Another carriage would follow in an hour with changes of clothing, as well as the ladies’ private maids.
The Wildes were going en masse to rescue Diana.
Not that she needed rescuing.
Hickett was standing next to a small carriage at the entrance to the courtyard, so North made his way through the crowd, Godfrey still clinging to him.
“North!” his aunt shouted.
He bent and deposited Godfrey on the seat and turned. “You’ll be there in no time,” Lady Knowe said, coming over to him. “If she’s safe and well, don’t make her stop simply because of fool ideas about what a lady can and can’t do.”
North gave his aunt—who had never, in his memory, paid more than lip service to ladylike behavior—a kiss and a nod before he climbed into the small carriage.
It wasn’t easy to be in love with Diana, he thought ruefully. Not only could he not make her a duchess, but he couldn’t stop her from barmaiding either.