A Dangerous Fortune(103)
Maisie went to her cupboard for her gloves. “I wish you’d consulted me first.” She opened the cupboard. On the back of the door, framed in wood, hung the old poster she had saved from the circus, showing her in tights, standing on the back of a white horse, over the legend “The Amazing Maisie.” The picture jerked her out of her tantrum and she suddenly felt ashamed of herself. She ran to Solly and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Solly, how can I be so ungrateful?”
“There, there,” he murmured, stroking her bare shoulders.
“You’ve been so kind and generous to me and my family, of course I’ll do this for you, if you wish.”
“I’d hate to force you into something—”
“No, no, you’re not forcing me. Why shouldn’t I help her get what I got?” She looked at her husband’s chubby face, creased now with lines of anxiety. She stroked his cheek. “Stop worrying. I was being horribly selfish for a minute but it’s over. Go and put your jacket on. I’m ready.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips, then turned away and put on her gloves.
She knew what had really made her cross. The irony of the situation was bitter. She was being asked to train Nora for the role of Mrs. Hugh Pilaster—the position Maisie herself had longed to occupy. In her innermost heart she still wanted to be Hugh’s wife, and she hated Nora for winning what she had lost. All in all it was a shameful attitude and Maisie resolved to drop it. She should be glad Hugh had married. He had been very unhappy, and it was at least partly her fault. Now she could stop worrying about him. She felt a sense of loss, if not grief, but she should keep those feelings locked away in a room no one ever entered. She would throw herself energetically into the task of bringing Nora Pilaster back into the good graces of London’s high society.
Solly came back with his jacket on and they went along to the nursery. Bertie was in his nightshirt, playing with a wooden model of a railway train. He loved to see Maisie in her gowns and would be very disappointed if for some reason she went out in the evening without showing him what she was wearing. He told her what had happened in the park that afternoon—he had befriended a large dog—and Solly got down on the floor and played trains for a while. Then it was Bertie’s bedtime, and Maisie and Solly went downstairs and got into their carriage.
They were going to a dinner party, then on to a ball afterwards. Both would take place within half a mile of their house in Piccadilly, but Maisie could not walk the streets in such an elaborate gown: the hem and train, and her silk shoes, would be filthy by the time she arrived. All the same she smiled to think that the girl who had once walked for four days to get to Newcastle could not now go half a mile without her carriage.
She was able to begin her campaign for Nora that very night. When they reached their destination and entered the drawing room of the marquis of Hatchford, the first person she saw was Count de Tokoly. She knew him quite well and he always flirted with her, so she felt free to be direct. “I want you to forgive Nora Pilaster for slapping you,” she said.
“Forgive?” he said. “I’m flattered! To think that at my age I can still make a young woman slap my face—it’s a great compliment.”
That wasn’t how you felt at the time, Maisie thought. However, she was glad he had decided to make light of the whole incident.
He went on: “Now, if she had refused to take me seriously—that would have been an insult.”
It was exactly what Nora ought to have done, Maisie reflected. “Tell me something,” she said. “Did Augusta Pilaster encourage you to flirt with her niece?”
“Grisly suggestion!” he replied. “Mrs. Joseph Pilaster as a pander! She did nothing of the kind.”
“Did anyone encourage you?”
He looked at Maisie through narrowed eyes. “You’re clever, Mrs. Greenbourne; I’ve always respected you for that. Cleverer than Nora Pilaster. She’ll never be what you are.”
“But you haven’t answered my question.”
“I’ll tell you the truth, as I admire you so much. The Cordovan Minister, Se?or Miranda, told me that Nora was … what shall we say … susceptible.”
So that was it. “And Micky Miranda was put up to it by Augusta, I’m sure of it. Those two are as thick as thieves.”
De Tokoly was miffed. “I do hope I haven’t been used as a pawn.”
“That’s the danger of being so predictable,” Maisie said waspishly.
Next day she took Nora to her dressmaker.
As Nora tried on styles and fabrics Maisie found out a little more about the incident at the duchess of Tenbigh’s ball. “Did Augusta say anything to you beforehand about the count?” she asked.
“She warned me not to let him take any liberties,” Nora replied.
“So you were ready for him, so to speak.”
“Yes.”
“And if Augusta had said nothing, would you have behaved the same way?”
Nora looked thoughtful. “I probably wouldn’t have slapped him—I wouldn’t have had the nerve. But Augusta made me think it was important to take a stand.”
Maisie nodded. “There you are. She wanted this to happen. She also got someone to tell the count you were easy.”
Nora was amazed. “Are you sure?”
“He told me. She’s a devious bitch and she has no scruples at all.” Maisie realized she was speaking in her Newcastle accent, something that rarely happened nowadays. She reverted to normal. “Never underestimate Augusta’s capacity for treachery.”