The following day, she
was advised by Mary that a swift recovery would be suspicious, so she
kept to her room most of the day. She sat downstairs for a light
evening meal (soup, a capon and a few sweets), which was sufficient
given how bored she'd been that day. After dinner she pettishly
picked out a few faulty tunes on the pianoforte then repaired to her
room with a novel or two.
Mary was visibly
relieved whenever she was seen by other members of the household.
Every now and then she would critique Melissa's “recovery”. It
was well known within the household of Melissa's turbulent interviews
with doctors and no one had expressed any surprise that Mary had
chosen to care for her without external support. The relief depicted
at her eventual recovery was assumed to be related to Mary's fear
that she may have made the wrong choice in not calling a professional
man.
As a result of her
illness, Melissa was expected to remain unavailable to guests, and
she had been resigned to the tedium of several hours of her own
company. Every time she considered what had caused it however, she
felt a massive surge of triumph and pride. It would take the boys a
while to sail home, but they were safely on their way. Andy was out
of the grasp of the French and she was free to live her own life now
as she saw fit.
At about 9:00 that
evening a thunderous hammering began on the door. Her staff had been
dealing with this particular caller on a regular basis and apparently
the knowledge that she was “recovering” took the conviction out
of their performance and refusal to allow guests to enter. She heard
the soun d of her poor butler being forcibly moved out of the doorway
and footsteps heading straight for the morning room where she usually
received guests. She stood and glanced at herself in the mirror –
she showed clear signs of recent physical strain – her eyes were
bagged, her skin was dull and off-colour and her hair had obviously
not been washed in a few days – which ought to convince any
importunate individual of her indisposition. She was also not wearing
any corsetry – a liberty she had enjoyed greatly in the last few
days (although initially wearing a corset felt incredibly glamorous
and sexy, being obliged to wear one every single day for every
occasion had become onerous) – the lack of which would be
noticeable and only excusable on the grounds that she wsan't
receiving.
The footsteps had
paused then, after a brief hesitation, move straight for the door to
her room. She clasped the novel she had been reading as she stood,
poised and alert, waiting for the door to open. When it did, she was
surprised to see Phillip walk in. He seemed angry.
A little mental
arithmetic proved it was impossible for her presence in France to
have been reported to him, or indeed the success of her mission.
Instead of attempting to guess what he knew, she held herself upright
and looked him straight in the eye. He immediately launched into a
tirade – her departure from the ball had been witnessed and her
immediate return home in the company of Paul was viewed as deeply
suspicious. He had been watched for and had noticeably not departed.
Phillip had once more had to wrestle with his own feelings and self
control. It wasn't a pleasant experience and his attempts to visit
her had only served to frustrate him more.
When he finally took
breath she looked straight into his eye and smoothly assured him that
had it been any of his business, she would have informed him in
person of the magical teleporting device she possessed that made it
possible for people to leave her property without being witnessed by
any individual who happened to be loitering outside the front door,
particularly, she went on with slight emphasis, loiterers who never
take toilet breaks, drink with her footmen or otherwise do anything
which would cause them to momentarily break their focus.
He was visibly annoyed
by her words, but once again, the justice within him came to the fore
and, much as he wanted to extend his fury from her behaviour to her
slight on his men, he had to acknowledge that he only had their word
for their vigilance. He trusted them, but it was entirely possible
that for a very natural reason the gentleman in question had left the
property unnoticed. That he may also have arrived at his own property
unnoticed was significantly less likely, but he did not raise that
issue as he considered it beyond her need to know area. In addition,
the young man in question had emerged from his own flat this morning
and visited his club and a few other spots around town that young men
frequented regularly, so it was impossible to accuse her of having
him hidden around her home. Additionally, it was beyond dispute that
the men stationed on his street had not seen him arrive there. His
suspicion had been simply that he had stayed the night. Melissa's
response had made it impossible to determine if his suspicion was
founded or not.
Instead he turned his
questioning to the suddenness of her departure from the ball. What,
he asked, had become so urgent that she must leave immediately? She
thought back to that night and the conversation on the balcony and
whitened. She was able to respond with a sincerity that he believed:
“I put together a few
points and realised that the boys were in terrible danger. More
particularly, I realised that while I am here and they are there, I
cannot help them overcome their difficulties.”
“I trust this will
lead you to steer clear of these little adventures in future – you
may kill yet more people than your first friend very easily.”
“I will not steer
clear, as you describe it. If another excursion to France is
necessary, I will go myself. To remain here alone and without
information is unbearable.”
Her pronouncement was
met with silence. She had spoken the last sentence in a quiet tone,
staring into the fireplace and it carried a weight and depth that she
wasn't even aware of.
Phillip, in his
conflicting mental state in every matter that was in some way related
to her, was unable to resolve any of the points floating around his
head and he simply bowed his way out. It wasn't a graceful exit.
No comments:
Post a comment