“You didn’t!” Beth gasped and began to laugh. “Oh Clarissa. Whathappened then?”
“Everyone was dreadfully angry,” the girl sniffed, though there was anecho of Beth’s amusement in her eyes. “My mother tried to say I was unwellbut. . . but he looked at me so hatefully.” She was making a mangled wreckof her neckcloth. “Then when he’d gone she . . . she beat me and locked mein my brother’s room. My room doesn’t have a lock.”
“She beat you!”
“She said she would beat me harder if I did such a thing again, buttruly I couldn’t help it!” The girl’s twisting had worked the neckclothfree and now she pulled at it with her whitened fingers. “His mouth tasteslike the midden, and he terrifies me!”
Beth gathered the girl into her arms. “I can believe that, my dear. Buthow did you escape? Did your brother help you?”
“Simon?” said Clarissa incredulously. “No, he’s off at Oxford, andanyway, he thinks it a famous thing just as long as his comfort is notdisturbed. I took some of his old clothes and climbed out of thewindow.”
Beth looked at the girl with new respect. “Good heavens. Was that notvery dangerous?”
Clarissa shrugged. She looked down with distaste at the damp andtortured rag in her hand and dropped it on a chair. “It was only the firstfloor, and there’s a high wall by his window. I got onto that and sort ofwriggled my way along to a shed, then to the ground. But you can see Icouldn’t have done it in a gown,” she said with a blush. It was obviousthat the girl felt her boy’s clothes were the most heinous aspect of itall.
“You must change straightaway,” said Beth and led her into the dressingroom. There Redcliff produced a shift and one of Beth’s old gowns, a plainblue muslin. Clarissa changed with alacrity. The gown was a trifle longbut otherwise an adequate fit.
“That feels so much better,” said Clarissa with a wan smile. “You haveno idea how horrible it was to be standing in the square waiting for you.I was certain everyone knew I was a woman and was looking at my legs.”
“But what are we to do?” asked Beth. “Your parents will hunt for you.They will be concerned.”
“No, they won’t,” said Clarissa stonily. “Except about Lord Deveril’smoney.”
“I can’t keep you here, Clarissa. The servants will be sure to findout. Do you have any friends who would hide you?”
Clarissa shook her head, beginning to look frightened again. “Are yougoing to send me back?”
Beth hugged the poor girl. “Never. But I may not be able to preventthem taking you.”
“Could I not hide here?” asked Clarissa desperately. “No one exceptyour maid saw us come in. It’s a very large house.”
Beth had little choice. She simply could not throw Clarissa out.“Perhaps for a little while,” she said.
She turned to the maid, who was still the picture of disapproval.“Where could Miss Greystone hide and not be detected by the servants,Redcliff?”
“It’s not proper, milady,” protested the older woman.
“Never mind that. Where? The attics? The cellars?”
“No, milady. The servants rooms are up under the roof, some of them.And the walls are thin. If she made a move it’d be heard. And the cellarshave the stores in them. There’s people in and out every minute.”
“Well, where then? As Clarissa says, it’s an enormous house. There mustbe somewhere.”
Redcliff’s mouth became even tighter, but she answered in the end.“She’ll have to go in one of the spare bedrooms, if anywhere. The one nextdoor to your boudoir is empty.”
For some reason, hiding Clarissa in a guest room seemed much moreshocking than concealing her in the cellars, but the maid was doubtlesscorrect.
“Very well,” said Beth. She took Clarissa to the bedroom which housedher court dress. With a grin, she twitched aside the covers. Clarissagasped. “It’s beautiful.”
“I suppose so, but I’m not looking forward to wearing it.”
“I haven’t been presented,” said Clarissa wistfully. “I’d like it, Ithink.”
“Do you really have a taste for such things, Clarissa?”
The girl smiled. “I don’t think I have a noble mind, Beth, like you. Ilike fine clothes, and balls and flirting with young men. I like fireworksand illuminations and masquerades. Now, I suppose the best I can hope foris to be a governess or a schoolmistress. IloatheLord Deveril,” she said bitterly. “This is all hisfault.”
Beth could have retorted that it was the fault of Clarissa’s father’saddiction to gaming, but there seemed no point and she had no objection toDeveril receiving all the opprobrium. She left Clarissa withSelf-Controlto pass the time and strict instructions not to makeany noise. As she returned to her apartments, however, Beth couldn’t helpreflecting on the difference in their tastes. What a shame Clarissa hadn’tbeen the duke’s daughter.
