ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Maurette dabbed at her puffy eyes. She did not wish Lydia to see she had been crying. Applying a cooling cloth to her cheeks, Maurette perused her face in a hand glass before setting it down with a resigned clunk.

Kitty was clearing away the dishes from the noon meal, and she eyed her mistress with concern. Maurette had barely touched the food. Kitty wondered what had transpired on Maurette's tour with Jonathan. She wondered if the skinny lout had said something to upset her. If he had, Kitty decided, she would skin him and toss his smarmy flesh into the sea. With resolute stiffness the girl picked up the heavy tray on which she carried the debris of the meal and marched from the room. She returned a few moments later and moved to her mistress.

"Could I do anything, my lady?" she said.

Maurette never ceased to be amazed by Kitty's newly acquired eloquence. The girl spoke as well as any lady of Maurette's acquaintance, and garbed in one of Maurette's made-over gowns, she looked the part of the refined ladies-in-waiting that graced the finest houses in London.

Maurette placed her hand on Kitty's smooth cheek and smiled ruefully. Her life was not totally in vain as long as Kitty reminded her of her usefulness.

"I must needs face a dragon today Kit," Maurette said gently.

Kitty's eyes widened and then narrowed aggressively. "Jonathan," she stated pointedly.

Maurette laughed softly. "Oh no, not Jonathan, Kit. I must face this household and traditions of which I have no knowledge," she said sadly. "And I must face my own lack of worth in this household, except perhaps as your tutor," she added with a forced brightness." 'Tis not easy, Kit, for I am unaccustomed to uselessness." She bowed her head.

"You are not useless," said Kitty staunchly. "Why, where would I be if you had not come to these environs. I shall tell you where I would be-in the laundry with Ruth, is where. And I shall tell you something else," she said, dropping to her knees before her mistress. "Everything has changed here since you arrived. Everyone has a new and brighter outlook upon their life here. For so long we have been an austere household. You appear at dinner, and the whole castle brightens. Not one among us doesn't pray each night that our master will take you to wife. You are well loved, my lady. To be the creator of an atmosphere of hope and happiness is no small thing."

"You are right, dear Kit. I had no idea that my presence here had become of any import at all." Maurette smiled gently. "And to think my cause is so notable is more responsibility than I had ever hoped to bear."

Kitty raised herself and joined Maurette in a smile. "You jest with me, my lady, and imagine I exaggerate, but your sojourn with Jonathan today and your visit to the kitchen have caused much bright conversation among the servants."

"They know of it already?"

"In fact it has given them new hope that we may soon have a new mistress," Kitty said.

"Do they not admire Lady Hamilton, Kit? "It was my impression that she was absolutely deferred to in every instance. One young mistress even seemed to defend her with some aggression."

Kitty stiffened. "Was it admiration you detected, or a warning, my lady?" she said evenly.

Maurette regarded the girl in astonishment. "A warning?"

Kitty nodded slowly. "We defer to the lady, naturally. She is chatelaine here, but that deference does not indicate devotion." Kitty took Maurette's hand in hers in an abrupt change of attitude. "Shall I stay with you, my lady?"

"I would have you tell me what you meant by your last remark, Kit."

"I have said more than I intended, my lady." She held Maurette's hand tightly clasped in hers. "Please forgive my air of mystery."

"I do, Kit," Maurette said. "I shall not press you. And, no," she added, brushing Kitty's hand with a fond kiss, "you need not stay."

The girl left then, deciding that she would like to skin not Jonathan but another dragon of her acquaintance.

A few moments passed in which Maurette managed to compose herself. She brushed at her hair, which had fallen in tender wisps about her face during her busy morning. She applied a bit of color to her cheeks. Inspecting the results in the cheval glass, she decided that she resembled no victim. She would face Lydia this day and win.

Lydia entered and gazed insolently at Maurette. "You wished me to attend you, Maurette," she said, closing the chamber door. "I was rather surprised by your request. "'Twas your own suggestion that we avoid each other's company."

Maurette allowed herself a small pause before she dealt with Lydia's patronization. "Jonathan tells me that there is not money allotted to expenditures for the household," she said flatly.

"You do get right to the point," said Lydia, sitting without invitation on the settee near the fire. "Yes," she said evenly shifting her bony frame so that she was looking directly at Maurette. "I advised Jonathan that you were to he authorized no funds for whatever it is you plan for this house. 'Tis a smoothly running estate. We need not your unsolicited intervention. The servants and I are perfectly happy with things as they are."

"But your servants are not happy," Maurette blurted out. She quickly put her delicate fingertips to her mouth, for she knew that she had betrayed a confidence and was immediately sorry.

Lydia's eyes narrowed. "Has your brat been pouring poison in your ear, Maurette?" she said slyly.

Maurette was immediately mobilized. "If you mean my tiring woman, Lydia, I shall demand that first you call her by her name, and second that you abandon such thoughts before they harden into all accusation."

Lydia laughed sharply. "How you do buttress the little Bastard. 'Tis much the talk of the household." Lydia eyed Maurette obliquely. "Do you imagine that your protection of the child will avail her anything in the end? You will be gone within the year, and she will go back to her place in the laundry with the dimwitted Ruth. The chit's fine learning and fancy gowns will be as nothing in that dreary environment."

Maurette found it difficult to hold her temper. "Kit told me of her bastardy, but I did not ask her to elaborate on the details. It does not matter to me, Lydia. As to the girl's learning, such things are never wasted. She has knowledge and skills., which will abide with her the rest of her life. Whether she works in a laundry or in a buttery, she will retain the soul of a learned woman to the end of her days. And, I would add, she will not end her days a buttery, for 'tis my intention to ask Dominic if I may take Kit with me when . . . if I leave."

"If?" asked Lydia silkily.

"If or when, Lydia. 'Tis no concern of yours."

"You will concede, however, that running this house- hold is my concern," she said sharply.

"I will concede that, Lydia," said Maurette, composing herself. "And I do not, I assure you, intend to overestimate my own position here. 'Tis only that, if Dominic and I are to invite people in, we must needs a pleasant place to entertain them."

Lydia sighed audibly She tucked in a lank tendril of hair. "You are sadly mistaken, Maurette, if you imagine that Dominic will allow people to come trampling through his home."

Maurette moved stiffly and stood directly before Lydia. "That is something that is to be taken up between Dominic and me, Lydia. Your authority does not extend to our private life."

"Does it not?" asked Lydia tranquilly. "You shall see, little interloper, just how far my authority extends."

"If you are threatening me, Lydia, you would do well to think again before you carry on. Dominic loves me, remember."

"And he loves me," said Lydia harshly. She stood and, towering over Maurette, she went on, "and he has much to be grateful for on my account. I attended our father for ten years while Dominic was making his valiant reputation in the court. Oh, 'tis true, I welcomed. the charge that I was given, for I loved our father, but while Dominic ranged the world and captured Turkish ships, I was here seeing to this house, to this grand estate. After our father died, who do you imagine rode out to collect the rents? Who do you imagine kept the servants in hand and kept the accounts tended?"

"Have you no deputy?" Maurette asked, attempting to calm Lydia's ire.

"And who should be my deputy? Jonathan? The skittish lout who cringes when the servants call him Jonny? No, I have no deputy, Maurette. A.. that you see is my charge. And for my efforts, my brother loves me. He is devoted to me for my fine service on his behalf. And do you know how he has rewarded me for that fine service?" Lydia's eyes blazed, and flecks of foam formed on her mouth. "He has rewarded me by banishing my only son, Lucius, from this estate." Her words hung heavily in the suddenly silent chamber.

When she spoke again, her voice was very soft. "Do not count on Dominic's 'love,' young innocent, too heavily, for his is a hard nature. Love tempers the cruelest of hearts, 'tis said, but I would not count on that little tenet where Dominic is concerned. Not for nothing is our crest that unholy raven."

Maurette watched as Lydia lowered herself once more to the settee. All the anger, all the hostility seemed to have left her. Her bony hands were clasped on her lap, and her head was bowed.

"Would you tell me why your son has been banished?" asked Maurette softly.

Lydia looked up at her, and, unbelievably, her eyes were filled with tears. "I… cannot," she said simply. "Trust me that his banishment was inequitable. No pleas of mine would soften Dominic's heart." Lydia's tears flowed unbounded down her cheekbones, and her weathered face was contorted in pain. "I entreated Dominic to let me bring him back, but he would not be moved. And so I have lived, Maurette, as one abandoned - no man about to buttress the challenges of running this house, no son to comfort my lonely hours here." She lowered her tear-shimmered gray-green eyes. "I seem hard, Maurette, and hardened I have become by the obligations of this house. But I am not the raven of our insignia. I could never match my brother's cruelty."

Maurette sat on the settee opposite the bowed Lydia. "Why do you stay here, Lydia? Go to where your son resides," she said earnestly.

"Ravenshead is our home, Maurette." She raised her eyes slowly. " 'Tis everything to Dominic that I am here. And, in truth, I could not live just anywhere. Dominic shields me in this house from the cruelties of the word. Though I have known cruelty here, 'tis nothing to what I might consider if I were cast out."

Her words arched with a fragile simplicity, and Maurette's heart went out to the raw-boned woman who sat across from her in the fire-li room. Maurette longed to ask her of her son's banishment and of the reasons that she saw the outside world in such a fearsome perspective, but she allayed her questions. She would ask them at another time…perhaps.

Rising, Lydia swiped at her moistened cheeks. "Have your cleansing and your parties, then, Maurette. If Dominic wishes it, I will offer no resistance. Let me add, however, that my resistance was Dominic's absolution where you were concerned. Now you will deal with him, directly. And I will warn you that my contention is as a drop of dew on a stone at dawn compared to that you will face in Dominic Warbrooke." She turned tiredly then and left the room.

Maurette shivered involuntarily. She attempted to compare the gentle lover, the sweet poet of the night before, to the unyielding tyrant of Lydia's description. She could not. Moving to the window, Maurette pushed back the hangings and gazed out upon the blue sky. Perhaps a walk would gentle the disquietude of her soul.