up her skirts, hastened down the stairs. It was almost an hour past the time appointed by Lord Marldon and her father hadn’t made such a noise in months. Something had gone dreadfully wrong.
At the drawing-room door she caught a warning glance from Alicia and came to an abrupt halt. Her father, oblivious to her presence, was towering over Kitty, his face red with fury.
‘You great scatterbrained loon,’ he raged, waving a piece of paper inches from the young girl’s face. ‘You jumped-up little scarecrow. I knew you’d never make a housemaid. I bloody knew it.’
Kitty, her eyes cast to the ground, sniffed convulsively.
‘Your brains are in your drawers,’ continued Charles. ‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you about letters? They’re meant to be read. You put them on the hall table, where I can see them. Do you understand? Do you? On the hall table.’
Kitty wiped her forearm across her nose and looked up at him, her lower lip trembling.
‘But, sir,’ she wailed, ‘we haven’t got one any more.’ Her voice trailed off into great heaving sobs.
‘She’s quite right, Charles,’ said Alicia placidly, stroking damp strands of hair from Kitty’s tear-streaked face.
Charles glowered at his wife. ‘And whose fault is that?’ he bellowed.
Alicia sighed and placed a consoling arm around Kitty’s shoulders. ‘What’s done is done,’ she said. ‘Now go and clean yourself up, Kitty, then tell cook we shall have dinner presently. And chew some fresh mint while you’re at it.’
Kitty bobbed a quick curtsey and scuttled away, avoiding Clarissa’s eyes as she passed her in the doorway.
‘Clarissa dear,’ said Alicia. ‘I’m afraid Lord Marldonhas been delayed. He won’t be coming down until the end of the month.’
Clarissa stood motionless, a wave of desolation sweeping over her. The end of the month? But that was weeks away. Oh, the wait would be intolerable. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her clenched hands, determined not to cry. ‘Oh?’ she said softly, the word catching in her throat.
Her father jerked his head round and opened his mouth to speak. But the words were unforthcoming and he simply stared at her, his eyes wide with astonishment. ‘What the …?’ he began.
‘Charles,’ said Alicia in a cautionary tone. ‘Keep calm. She’s a woman now. Remember?’
‘A woman?’ he spluttered. ‘God damn it, I can see that. The barefaced monkey’s got her wares out in a fine old display. A woman? I do not want my daughter to be a woman. I want her to be, for God’s sake, a lady. Do you hear?’
Alicia laid a gentle hand on his arm and he shook it off with a snort of disgust. ‘This isn’t the Haymarket, my girl,’ he bellowed at Clarissa. ‘This is your father’s house. Get upstairs. Get something decent on. I’ll not dine with a harlot.’
Clarissa flew, unshed tears blurring her vision. Her father railed after her. She was a strumpet and a fool. Those clothes were for men with no imaginations, didn’t she know that? And Marldon, damn him, he had imagination enough for a score of men.
Reaching the calm of her bedroom, Clarissa slammed the door shut and leant against it, breathing rapidly. Oh, her father’s insults were cruel and ill-timed. How could he have said such dreadful things when already she felt perfectly terrible? The end of the month? It was only the first week of June. She kicked her heel against the wood.
She hoped Lord Alec, whenever he chose to arrive, would be more appreciative of fashion. She’d spenthours being primped and preened and it was all for nothing. She couldn’t even wear the gown for supper.
Clarissa turned the key in the lock, dashed away a tear and took several deep, steady breaths. If she could not dress as she pleased, then she would not go down for supper at all. It was a beautiful gown. Both Alicia and Pascale had said so. And it was her colour because her eyes, Alicia said, were all cornflowers and violets at midnight, and
At the drawing-room door she caught a warning glance from Alicia and came to an abrupt halt. Her father, oblivious to her presence, was towering over Kitty, his face red with fury.
‘You great scatterbrained loon,’ he raged, waving a piece of paper inches from the young girl’s face. ‘You jumped-up little scarecrow. I knew you’d never make a housemaid. I bloody knew it.’
Kitty, her eyes cast to the ground, sniffed convulsively.
‘Your brains are in your drawers,’ continued Charles. ‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you about letters? They’re meant to be read. You put them on the hall table, where I can see them. Do you understand? Do you? On the hall table.’
Kitty wiped her forearm across her nose and looked up at him, her lower lip trembling.
‘But, sir,’ she wailed, ‘we haven’t got one any more.’ Her voice trailed off into great heaving sobs.
‘She’s quite right, Charles,’ said Alicia placidly, stroking damp strands of hair from Kitty’s tear-streaked face.
Charles glowered at his wife. ‘And whose fault is that?’ he bellowed.
Alicia sighed and placed a consoling arm around Kitty’s shoulders. ‘What’s done is done,’ she said. ‘Now go and clean yourself up, Kitty, then tell cook we shall have dinner presently. And chew some fresh mint while you’re at it.’
Kitty bobbed a quick curtsey and scuttled away, avoiding Clarissa’s eyes as she passed her in the doorway.
‘Clarissa dear,’ said Alicia. ‘I’m afraid Lord Marldonhas been delayed. He won’t be coming down until the end of the month.’
Clarissa stood motionless, a wave of desolation sweeping over her. The end of the month? But that was weeks away. Oh, the wait would be intolerable. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her clenched hands, determined not to cry. ‘Oh?’ she said softly, the word catching in her throat.
Her father jerked his head round and opened his mouth to speak. But the words were unforthcoming and he simply stared at her, his eyes wide with astonishment. ‘What the …?’ he began.
‘Charles,’ said Alicia in a cautionary tone. ‘Keep calm. She’s a woman now. Remember?’
‘A woman?’ he spluttered. ‘God damn it, I can see that. The barefaced monkey’s got her wares out in a fine old display. A woman? I do not want my daughter to be a woman. I want her to be, for God’s sake, a lady. Do you hear?’
Alicia laid a gentle hand on his arm and he shook it off with a snort of disgust. ‘This isn’t the Haymarket, my girl,’ he bellowed at Clarissa. ‘This is your father’s house. Get upstairs. Get something decent on. I’ll not dine with a harlot.’
Clarissa flew, unshed tears blurring her vision. Her father railed after her. She was a strumpet and a fool. Those clothes were for men with no imaginations, didn’t she know that? And Marldon, damn him, he had imagination enough for a score of men.
Reaching the calm of her bedroom, Clarissa slammed the door shut and leant against it, breathing rapidly. Oh, her father’s insults were cruel and ill-timed. How could he have said such dreadful things when already she felt perfectly terrible? The end of the month? It was only the first week of June. She kicked her heel against the wood.
She hoped Lord Alec, whenever he chose to arrive, would be more appreciative of fashion. She’d spenthours being primped and preened and it was all for nothing. She couldn’t even wear the gown for supper.
Clarissa turned the key in the lock, dashed away a tear and took several deep, steady breaths. If she could not dress as she pleased, then she would not go down for supper at all. It was a beautiful gown. Both Alicia and Pascale had said so. And it was her colour because her eyes, Alicia said, were all cornflowers and violets at midnight, and
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