Part 20 (2/2)
Mary shook her head in disbelief. What ought she to do now? If the theft were later discovered, Mrs Shaw would be certain to put the blame on her.
Going over the housekeeper's head was the only way to protect herself from a future accusation of deficiency. But would an ordinary parlour-maid have the courage to do so? And if so, whom would she tel ? Such an act of mutiny would certainly make its way back to Mrs Shaw and how could Mary protect her place then?
The only course open to her was to notify the Agency. They would get word to the right person.
They could investigate Mrs Shaw's background, at the same time, to shed some light on her hostile behaviour. Yes. That was the best course of action.
And yet, thought Mary, as she went up to her room for paper and pen, she'd not yet heard back from Anne or Felicity on any of her earlier queries, whether to do with Honoria Dalrymple, Octavius Jones or the purpose of the secret tunnel. Without their help, she was as alone here as any ordinary parlour-maid. And at the moment, she'd no particular confidence that her training would help her at al .
There were stil too many things she didn't understand. There was too much for her to do. She hadn't a clue where things stood in relation to one another. And tonight, Honoria Dalrymple expected her to seduce Prince Bertie for the greater glory of the Dishonourable Ralph Beaulieu-Buckworth's reputation.
Mary thought of Lang Jin Hai, imprisoned in Cradle Tower. He, at least, was secure in his fate.
The thought was only half-formed, however, when a wave of shame and self-loathing turned her stomach.
No: she certainly didn't envy her father. But perhaps this was part of her desire to help him escape, too to flee this sordid confusion. Living like happy wanderers was certainly impossible. But she couldn't help a deep throb of longing for an uncomplicated existence. A happy life. If such a thing actual y existed.
She rather suspected it did not.
Twenty-five.
When the summons came from the Prince of Wales, she was woeful y unprepared. She'd had her thoughts fixed so firmly on tonight after dinner, after the staff were dismissed for the day that his timing thoroughly rattled her.
It was the beginning of the post-luncheon lul , when the servants had an hour's free time. On her way up to her room, Mary paused at the housekeeper's room to check for a return message from the Agency. Nothing. She frowned. She'd not given them much time, it was true, but Anne Treleaven was general y so efficient. Perhaps in another hour. She turned down the corridor towards the staircase and, rounding a corner, met one of the smirking, thin-lipped equerries of the previous morning.
”You're a lucky girl.”
She cursed silently. ”Are you speaking to me, sir?”
He glanced about elaborately. ”Who else?” It was true: they were quite alone in the hal way. ”His Highness wants a word with you.”
”A word?”
That smirk again. ”Perhaps more than one. But I doubt you'l be doing much talking.”
In any other circ.u.mstances, she would have kicked him in the groin and fled. The prospect remained tempting, in her situation: while defying Prince Bertie's wishes would certainly get her the sack, so would complying with them, once Mrs Shaw could secure proof of her immoral behaviour.
Between these two, her continued employment was extremely precarious. For now, she elected to obey the equerry, as she stood more of a chance of influencing the Prince than she did Mrs Shaw. With a grim look, she turned on her heel and stalked towards the Prince of Wales's apartments. It would be a long walk; she was now at the furthest end of the Palace from his rooms.
The equerry they were so alike she'd never attempted to tel them one from another tagged along behind her. ”I say, are you going just like that?”
She ignored him.
”I mean, oughtn't you, er, perform your toilette, or some such?”
She looked down her nose at the lumpish attendant not difficult, despite the fact that he towered over her. ”I haven't the faintest idea what you mean.”
He crimsoned, then scowled. ”Hoity-toity for a common little bit of skirt, ain't you? Just because you caught the Prince's eye.”
She kept walking.
”You ain't even that pretty.”
Mary thought, The next thing he says will be: Dunno what he sees- ”Don't know what he sees in you, myself.”
As they crossed through the portrait gal ery, Mary hoped for somebody one of the princes or princesses, a visiting dignitary, even the Prince Consort himself to appear. No such luck: they came upon only an occasional domestic who, in the equerry's presence, instantly turned to face the wal .
Mary's mood darkened. There would be witnesses capable of bearing a tale, but n.o.body capable of stopping this nightmare.
As they exited the Long Gal ery, the young man drew near and said in an ugly tone, ”Don't you dare behave as though I'm invisible.” A few moments later, he was so close she felt his breath, hot and wine-sour, on her neck. ”Or I'l make you sorry.”
Mary's pulse roared. She swal owed hard and checked the desire to utter a smart retort. She couldn't walk faster without breaking into a run, but three long corridors lay between her and the Prince of Wales's apartments. She'd no idea which place was safer.
The answer came a moment later when thick fingers bit into her upper arm and she was dragged towards a doorway. ”Too daft to listen,” he sneered, shoving her against the wal , rattling the door handle.
His face was dul red, his breathing hoa.r.s.e.
Mary glanced about, trying not to show her panic.
They were the only two souls in the corridor.
”No one's coming to save you, you worthless jade.” His free hand rummaged her skirts and she knocked it away with a swift blow that made him howl. She twisted away but even as she began to run, he grabbed her by the hair and slammed her into the door so hard her shoulder crunched and bounced off it again. ”You like a sc.r.a.p, eh? I'l give it to you rough.”
The door was locked but that didn't deter him. He pul ed her tight against him, her back against his chest, his breath loud and moist in her ear. His arm was locked about her waist he was surprisingly strong, despite his doughy appearance and he fumbled her skirts again.
He wanted her to struggle.
He wanted her to cry, to beg, to be terrified.
He hadn't the first clue with whom he was dealing.
”You stupid little boy,” she said, in a clear, acidic voice. ”What d'you think Bertie's going to say when I tel him what you're trying to do?”
Instantly, he went stil .
”Do you real y think the Prince of Wales wil al ow you to molest me and go unpunished?” Silence. She swung about to face him, trying not to flinch as the movement jarred her shoulder. ”I'm about to become the new favourite. If you ruin me, he'l raise hel .” She ticked off the points on her fingers. ”You'l lose your post, of course. But also there'l be the cost of paying me off. Do you have that sort of ready money? And there's the scandal: you'l have to explain things to your father. D'you real y want to tel him that your entire family lost favour with the future king, al because you couldn't keep your mitts off a parlour-maid?”
He stared at her, hatred glittering in his eyes. But though his hands were curled with rage, they remained by his sides. A sudden globule of saliva gushed from the corner of his mouth and he swiped it away. Swal owed hard. ”Devil take you,” he growled. But despite the curse, his voice was hoa.r.s.e. ”Get out of my sight.”
Mary obeyed.
<script>