A Change of Fortune (9 page)

“I know.”

“It’s up to you whether his interest strays, isn’t it?” said Dorothea softly. “Now, then, I don’t wish to discuss your tiresome
amours
anymore, especially as my own are in such a disagreeable state.”

“But—”

“Nadia! Don’t be difficult. I’ve promised to do what I can. There isn’t anything more to be said.”

Nadia got up and left, but as she walked back toward her own room, she thought of something which made her stop. Dorothea’s plan was all very well, but it depended somewhat on Leonie not being able to pay the outstanding fees at the seminary. Nadia remembered the clothes Leonie had been wearing at tea that afternoon; she had had a pearl necklace which, if sold, would more than meet any figure Miss Hart might present her with. And if there was a pearl necklace, who could say what other items there might be in her jewel box? And then there were her clothes and other accessories. The possibility was only too strong that Leonie would be able to pay any debts and still be free to go to the Duchess of Thornbury, which post would definitely be offered to her if Guy de Lacey had his way.

Nadia paused by the window, breathing on the frozen glass to stare out at the bitter night. The fog swirled secretively and Harley Street was almost completely obscured. She could just see the pale glow of a streetlamp, and icy, gleaming cobbles beneath it.

There were footsteps in the passage behind her and she turned to see a footman approaching. He was a tall, muscular fellow, with sly eyes and a smile which was just a little too ready. He was also one of the few Englishmen employed at the embassy, and she had very swiftly learned that he was prepared to do anything, no matter how far removed from the letter of the law, provided the price was right.

She smiled a little then, and waited until he had come closer. “I wish to speak with you,” she said.

He halted, his crafty eyes sharp and quick. “Madam?”

“I have something…delicate for you to do.”

“There’s no one more delicate than I, madam.”

“It’s to be hoped you’re right, for you mustn’t be caught. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly, madam.”

“Very well. I wish you to break into the seminary in Park Lane tonight. You will be well rewarded if you successfully remove certain items. You may dispose of them as you will. I have no interest in them beyond wishing them to vanish. Do you understand?”

“Yes, madam.” He smiled.

* * *

Leonie awoke on Christmas Eve morning to the sound of music from the street outside. A fiddler and a blind penny-whistler were playing carols by the park gates. The fog was still thick, and the park white with frost. The fire in the bedroom had been lit for some time, the flames licking quietly around the glowing coals.

Katy brought in the early-morning tray. “Good morning, Miss Leonie,” she said cheerily, for she adored Christmas.

“Good morning.” Leonie sat up and pulled her shawl quickly around her shoulders as the maid put the tray carefully on her lap.

“It’s as cold as ever outside,” said Katy, going to the fire to warm her hands for a moment.

“You don’t have to sound so pleased about it,” replied Leonie, grimacing at the frost patterns on the window.

“I
love
Christmas Eve, it’s my favorite day in all the year.” Something suddenly caught the maid’s eye. The wardrobe doors were slightly ajar, and yet she knew she’d closed them properly the night before. “That’s strange,” she murmured, going to close them, but as she did so she gave a start of dismay. “Oh, Miss Leonie!”

“What is it?”

“Your clothes! They’ve gone!” The maid flung open the heavy doors to reveal a virtually empty rail upon which only a plain gray wool dress remained. A white silk gown had fallen among the ransacked hat boxes at the bottom of the cupboard, but apart from those two items, everything else had gone, even the shoes and ankle boots. Katy turned quickly toward the dressing table, but the thief had been very thorough. The silver brushes and comb had gone, and all the little porcelain dishes. The jewel boxes had vanished. Everything of value had been removed.

Leonie stared, a cold finger of alarm touching her. While she had lain asleep, someone had been in her room, stealthily going through her belongings.

Katy hurried quickly away to tell Miss Hart, and a moment later the disconcerted headmistress had dispatched Joseph to bring a constable. The constable came straightaway to carry out a thorough examination of the premises and make a list of all the stolen articles, but he could give Leonie little hope of ever retrieving anything. Miss Hart reassured Leonie that she would be provided with sufficient funds to furnish herself with a temporary wardrobe, pending her father’s imminent return. The constable then carried out a final inspection, closely examining all the windows, and in particular the fig tree growing against the balcony. He pointed to several broken twigs and the scrape marks of boots upon the trunk and said that in his opinion that was how the thief had gained entry. Leonie and Katy exchanged glances, knowing that the marks had been left by Rupert, but they said nothing at all. Miss Hart promised to see that the tree was cut back, and then the constable departed.

Miss Hart immediately provided Leonie with a cloak, bonnet, and shoes of her own, and dispatched her with Katy to a dressmaker in Oxford Street who was known always to have a number of clothes available for emergencies. The visit proved reasonably successful, and Leonie came away with two dresses, a warm cloak, and a bonnet lined with white velvet. The gowns, one pale green and the other a rather muddy donkey brown, were acceptable only for the time being, for they weren’t exactly to her taste and she didn’t at all care for their particularly large puffed sleeves, but under the circumstances she felt that they would have to do. She and Katy then proceeded to a nearby shoemaker’s shop and purchased some shoes and another pair of ankle boots, then walked home through the cold to Park Lane. Dorothea Lieven’s carriage was drawn up at the curb outside the seminary.

Leonie had just put on her new green dress when she was summoned to the visitors’ room by a rather uneasy Mlle. Clary. The Frenchwoman was at great pains to avoid catching Leonie’s eye, and she hurried away the moment her message had been delivered. Leonie was puzzled as she went down the stairs.

The moment she entered the visitors’ room, she sensed that something was very wrong. The headmistress wasn’t alone, Dorothea and Nadia were with her, and the latter looked sleek with vindictive anticipation, as if she could hardly wait for something to happen. The atmosphere was palpably strained.

Apprehension suddenly coursed through Leonie, and for the second time that day a cold finger of unease seemed to reach out to touch her. “You wished to see me, Miss Hart?”

The headmistress nodded. “I do. Miss Conyngham. I’m afraid that the countess is the bearer of sad news.”

Leonie noticed that she wasn’t invited to take a seat, but was left standing before them, almost as if she were on trial. “Sad news?”

Dorothea sat forward a little. “I’m sorry to have to inform you that your father is dead. Of a fever.”

Leonie stared at her. “No,” she whispered, “no, it cannot be—”

“It is so, Miss Conyngham,” went on Dorothea’s hard, dry, unfeeling voice. “News of his demise was brought to me last night and I was requested to tell you. There is more.”

“More?” Leonie hardly heard her. Her head was spinning and she felt almost faint. Please, don’t let it be true. Don’t let it be true.

“Your father died penniless and ruined.”

How harshly it was said, without any consideration whatsoever. Leonie felt numb, her dark eyes huge with disbelief and anguish as she listened to the story of embezzlement and gold mines. “I don’t believe it,” she whispered when Dorothea had finished, “I don’t believe any of it. My father wouldn’t—”

“But he did, Miss Conyngham,” interrupted Dorothea, “and as a consequence you are left in very embarrassing circumstances. There is a matter of outstanding fees and so on, matters which would be settled by relatives if you had any. But you don’t, do you, Miss Conyngham?”

“No.” Leonie’s reply was barely audible. The awfulness of what had happened was beginning to be borne in on her. The chill in their eyes as they looked at her now was a solemn portent of what lay ahead.

Dorothea was relentless. “I understand that you would have had items of value which you could have sold to meet these debts, but that you have unfortunately had them stolen.” The black eyes moved briefly toward Nadia, whose satisfied smile was a little too easy to read.

“Yes,” replied Leonie.

“Well, I’m afraid that that leaves you in an even more embarrassing position, especially as I’m given to understand that this very morning you were provided with funds with which to purchase some replacement clothes. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Leonie was struggling to regain her poise.

“Then it must be obvious to you that something has to be done in order to settle these matters. You are no longer a privileged lady of leisure, Miss Conyngham, in fact you are the very opposite, and from this moment on you will have to work for your living.” She paused. “We aren’t without sympathy for your tragic situation, and it is our desire to help you if we possibly can.”

“Help me?”

“By offering you a position here at the seminary. There’s a vacancy for an assistant teacher, and I trust that you will see the wisdom of accepting, for that way you will at least have a roof over your head. You will also, of course, be able gradually to pay back the debts, which I’m sure you now feel to be your personal responsibility.”

Leonie felt trapped, bound by invisible cords which were tightening inexorably around her with each word that Dorothea uttered. Accept the post? What option did she have but to do that? Where else could she go? And how could she otherwise meet all these specified debts?

Dorothea gave a cold little smile. “If you accept, you will be required to sign an agreement, for everything must be done correctly. You will be bound by that agreement until all debts have been satisfactorily settled. All that having been said, I would now like to hear your decision, Miss Conyngham.”

“I….”

“Yes?”

“I accept.” She had to, there was no other course.

Dorothea glanced at Nadia and then rose to her feet, turning to Miss Hart. “I trust that I may now safely leave matters in your hands. Pray do not forget the agreement.” She indicated the table, upon which lay a hastily drawn-up document. Beside it stood Miss Hart’s best silver-gilt inkwell and a new quill.

“I will attend to everything, my lady,” replied the headmistress reassuringly. She then gave Leonie a cool nod of her head. “I will speak with you in a moment.” Then she escorted Dorothea from the room.

Nadia followed them, pausing in the doorway to look malignantly back at Leonie, her green eyes glittering with spite. She gave a low laugh; then the door closed and she was gone.

The room was suddenly very quiet. The fire shifted in the hearth, sending a shower of bright sparks fleeing up the chimney. She could hear her own heartbeats. An immeasurable sense of loss began to steal through her, but her eyes remained dry. There were no tears; they weren’t even close. She listened to Miss Hart saying farewell to her visitors, and then the headmistress’s busy steps were approaching the door again. Leonie turned to face her as she came in.

Miss Hart halted before her, her glance as chill as Dorothea’s had been. “Very well, Miss Conyngham, let us discuss your situation.” She sat down close to the fire, very deliberately leaving Leonie standing. “I will expect you to commence in Miss Mathers’ place when the new term begins. You will, naturally enough, be the most junior member of the staff, and you will be at the beck and call of your colleagues. No doubt your many years with us have provided you with a clear notion of what your duties will be.”

“Yes, Miss Hart.”

“Very well. I trust that you also realize that you must immediately vacate the room you occupy at present. In future you will use the room previously allotted to Miss Mathers. It’s on the third floor, at the front of the house. Obviously it’s hardly what you’ve been used to, but you must consider yourself fortunate not to be out on the streets.”

“Yes, Miss Hart.” Leonie gazed at the headmistress. It was like talking to a stranger. But then perhaps that was exactly what she was doing, for she was now seeing the real Emmeline Hart.

The headmistress pointed to the document. “I suggest you sign it straightaway.”

Leonie picked up the document and began to read.

Miss Hart was irritated. “You don’t need to study it,” she said sharply. “After all, you aren’t in a position to challenge its contents, are you?”

Leonie was about to put the piece of paper down again when she caught sight of the figures mentioned in it. Her eyes widened incredulously and she looked accusingly at the headmistress. “But I know I can’t possibly owe you that much!”

“Oh, but you do, missy, you do.” Miss Hart’s hard eyes did not waver.

“It isn’t true!”

“Argue about it and you’ll be thrown out.”

Leonie stared at her.

Miss Hart rose to her feet. “Sign the document, Miss Conyngham. I wish to be done with this disagreeable interview. Be thankful for the charity which is being extended to you, and think of the dreadful alternative should that charity be withdrawn.”

Leonie towered her glance to the document. She didn’t owe as much as the headmistress was making out, but why would Miss Hart inflate the sums so much? Resignedly she sat down and took up the quill. What point was there in resisting when the alternative to acceptance was indeed so very dreadful? She dipped the quill in the ink and signed her name.

Miss Hart immediately took the agreement away, placing it carefully in a drawer and locking it. She turned back to face Leonie, who immediately rose to her feet once more. “I have already issued instructions that you are to be moved to Miss Mathers’ room. All your previous privileges will cease henceforth, and that includes the matter of meals. When the new term begins you will take your meals on the top table in the dining room with the rest of the teaching staff, the exception to this rule being breakfast, which you will take in my private parlor. It is at breakfast that matters concerning the school are discussed. Until the new term, however, since you are not strictly speaking on the staff until then, you will take all your meals in the kitchens with the servants. Do you have any questions?”