Read Online Yvonne Goes to York by M. C. Beaton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: M. C. Beaton
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said in a level voice, ‘Explain yourself, my lady.’
‘ You ask me to explain myself !’
‘This could go on forever,’ said the marquis with a sigh. ‘Miss Pym, I heard the rumour and did not believe a word of it. The gossips are saying that you are the mistress of Sir George.’
Hannah’s sallow skin turned a muddy colour. ‘But there is no foundation for such a rumour. None! It is spite and envy. Sir George is a courteous and … and … kind gentleman. I am outraged.’
‘If it is such a lie,’ said Lady Trant in a thin voice, ‘then why did the gossip start with your own footman, Miss Pym?’
‘That’s a bleedin’ lie,’ screamed Benjamin suddenly. ‘I never did!’
‘Silence!’ ordered the marquis. ‘Lady Trant, Miss Pym is a close friend of mine. I also know Sir George Clarence. I can assure you that there is no truth in therumour. Nothing but scurrilous lies. Of course, if you prefer to believe the scandalmongers, then I fear I must remove my cousin and my friend from Hadley Hall so that neither may be subject to further insult.’
Yvonne, who had been looking in a dazed way from one to the other, nonetheless marked that the usually easy-going and laconic marquis looked formidable .
‘Well, I don’t believe a word of it,’ said Letty quickly. ‘I mean, just look at Miss Pym!’
All looked at spinster Hannah, at her good and fashionable clothes, at her outraged eyes, at the prim spinsterish set of her figure. Lady Trant flushed slightly. ‘Well, dear me, Miss Pym, now I come to think of it, and considering what one knows of Sir George and having met you, of course the whole thing is ridiculous. Pray accept my sincere apologies.’
Hannah gave a stiff little bow from the waist by way of acknowledgement. Clarrie got to her feet. ‘Pray allow me to show you the gardens, Lord Ware,’ she said. ‘It is such a fine day.’
He smiled and rose as well and soon could be seen walking slowly away across the lawns beside the dumpy and energetic figure of Clarrie. ‘I shall go too,’ said Letty quickly and ran after the pair.
In a rather stifled voice, Hannah said she wished to retire for a little. Lady Trant was all solicitude, promising to send her own lady’s-maid up to attend on Miss Pym, apologizing over and over again at having bruised ‘so distinguished’ a guest’s feelings.
‘Come, Benjamin,’ ordered Hannah.
Lord and Lady Trant followed them out. Yvonne, still eating breakfast, stayed where she was. The sun was warm and pleasant. She felt she should go after Hannah and see if that lady needed any soothing down after the insult that had been given her, but then decided against it. The formidable Miss Pym was made of iron and Lady Trant had certainly apologized.
Her thoughts turned to the marquis. He had reached the edge of the lawn. Clarrie appeared to be trying to pull him one way and Letty the other. Clarrie was squat and ill-favoured with a masculine voice, Letty was tall and thin and flat-chested, but both were the daughters of a lord, with all the background of wealth and privilege. Yvonne began to feel very low. A man such as the marquis would never look in her own direction. Not that she wanted him to, she reminded herself quickly. She did think that he was probably wealthy and had lied about his poverty. No poor man could have bribed a stage-coach driver or offered to pay for a post-chaise to York. He was not escaping his debtors by getting on the coach under an assumed name. Therefore, it followed, he was probably escaping from some amour. A large cloud floated high above and cast a shadow on the grass and some of that shadow seemed to enter Yvonne’s soul. She finished her breakfast and went in search of Hannah.
In Hannah’s room, the angry spinster was facing her footman. ‘You what ?’
‘It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ mumbled Benjamin. ‘I mean, I thought, like, Sir George neededa bit of a nudge in the direction of marriage. I thought he
‘ You ask me to explain myself !’
‘This could go on forever,’ said the marquis with a sigh. ‘Miss Pym, I heard the rumour and did not believe a word of it. The gossips are saying that you are the mistress of Sir George.’
Hannah’s sallow skin turned a muddy colour. ‘But there is no foundation for such a rumour. None! It is spite and envy. Sir George is a courteous and … and … kind gentleman. I am outraged.’
‘If it is such a lie,’ said Lady Trant in a thin voice, ‘then why did the gossip start with your own footman, Miss Pym?’
‘That’s a bleedin’ lie,’ screamed Benjamin suddenly. ‘I never did!’
‘Silence!’ ordered the marquis. ‘Lady Trant, Miss Pym is a close friend of mine. I also know Sir George Clarence. I can assure you that there is no truth in therumour. Nothing but scurrilous lies. Of course, if you prefer to believe the scandalmongers, then I fear I must remove my cousin and my friend from Hadley Hall so that neither may be subject to further insult.’
Yvonne, who had been looking in a dazed way from one to the other, nonetheless marked that the usually easy-going and laconic marquis looked formidable .
‘Well, I don’t believe a word of it,’ said Letty quickly. ‘I mean, just look at Miss Pym!’
All looked at spinster Hannah, at her good and fashionable clothes, at her outraged eyes, at the prim spinsterish set of her figure. Lady Trant flushed slightly. ‘Well, dear me, Miss Pym, now I come to think of it, and considering what one knows of Sir George and having met you, of course the whole thing is ridiculous. Pray accept my sincere apologies.’
Hannah gave a stiff little bow from the waist by way of acknowledgement. Clarrie got to her feet. ‘Pray allow me to show you the gardens, Lord Ware,’ she said. ‘It is such a fine day.’
He smiled and rose as well and soon could be seen walking slowly away across the lawns beside the dumpy and energetic figure of Clarrie. ‘I shall go too,’ said Letty quickly and ran after the pair.
In a rather stifled voice, Hannah said she wished to retire for a little. Lady Trant was all solicitude, promising to send her own lady’s-maid up to attend on Miss Pym, apologizing over and over again at having bruised ‘so distinguished’ a guest’s feelings.
‘Come, Benjamin,’ ordered Hannah.
Lord and Lady Trant followed them out. Yvonne, still eating breakfast, stayed where she was. The sun was warm and pleasant. She felt she should go after Hannah and see if that lady needed any soothing down after the insult that had been given her, but then decided against it. The formidable Miss Pym was made of iron and Lady Trant had certainly apologized.
Her thoughts turned to the marquis. He had reached the edge of the lawn. Clarrie appeared to be trying to pull him one way and Letty the other. Clarrie was squat and ill-favoured with a masculine voice, Letty was tall and thin and flat-chested, but both were the daughters of a lord, with all the background of wealth and privilege. Yvonne began to feel very low. A man such as the marquis would never look in her own direction. Not that she wanted him to, she reminded herself quickly. She did think that he was probably wealthy and had lied about his poverty. No poor man could have bribed a stage-coach driver or offered to pay for a post-chaise to York. He was not escaping his debtors by getting on the coach under an assumed name. Therefore, it followed, he was probably escaping from some amour. A large cloud floated high above and cast a shadow on the grass and some of that shadow seemed to enter Yvonne’s soul. She finished her breakfast and went in search of Hannah.
In Hannah’s room, the angry spinster was facing her footman. ‘You what ?’
‘It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ mumbled Benjamin. ‘I mean, I thought, like, Sir George neededa bit of a nudge in the direction of marriage. I thought he
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