Page 36 of Venus in Disguise

As she had suspected, he had informed her she would marry Lord Wishen at the end of the week. Her own fears had been superseded, however, by the information that he meant to marry Fidelia to Lord Malmsey. The duke had concluded that the female line was fatally flawed, and the sooner they were safely married off, the better.

Terror for Fidelia, who was a quiet, gentle soul, made Narcissa’s stomach churn, for Malmsey was a vile brute. Worse even than the duke, were such a thing possible. Yet no amount of pleading on her part had moved the duke, who had only commented that he would be relieved to be rid of them both.

Now Malmsey was on the premises, and Narcissa was desperate to warn Fidelia that she must get away however she could. Perhaps they could escape together? Hope stirred in her chest at the thought. Surely, they would fare better together than alone?

The sound of raised voices reached her through her bedroom door and Narcissa ran to it, pressing her ear to the door. There was some sort of altercation, but she could not quite make it out. Was that Fidelia’s voice?

“Run!”

Narcissa gasped, for surely that was Alex. The anxiety in that one word was palpable. A muffled thud sounded, followed by a scuffle, before footsteps pounded past her door.

“I’ll tear you to pieces, you little shit!”

That had been Lord Malmsey, Narcissa realised with a stab of fear.

What on earth was happening?

Narcissa beat her fist against the door. “Is anyone there? Please open the door. Fidelia? Alex? What’s happening? Help! Help, please someone! Fidelia, are you all right?”

She rattled the handle, continuing to pound upon it for what seemed like hours before she slumped to the floor and put her head in her hands. She had almost given up hope when she heard soft footsteps passing her door.

“Help!” Narcissa shouted, resuming her hammering on the door. “Help! Please, who is that?”

“My lady?”

“Yes!” Narcissa exclaimed, rattling the handle again. “Who is that? Whatever is happening?”

“It’s Sally,” whispered the voice on the other side of the door. “Your sister’s maid, my lady.”

“Sally! Thank heavens! What on earth is going on?”

There was a pause before Sally answered. “Tell the truth, I’m not exactly sure, my lady, but… but think perhaps Lady Fidelia has run away with Mr De Beauvoir.”

Narcissa stared at the closed door, her mouth agape. “Whatever do you mean? She’s eloped with the gentleman designing the new gardens for the duke?”

“That’s right. I reckoned my lady had taken a shine to the fellow, and he to her. Didn’t bargain for this, though. Only that Lord Malmsey is a nasty piece of work, so I reckon she did right, beg your pardon for saying so, my lady.”

“Oh, she did!” Narcissa exclaimed, so delighted by this piece of information she felt a jolt of happiness for the first time in days. “Oh, well done, Fidelia!”

“Yes, I reckon so,” Sally said. “’Cept now I need to go and… well, I’ve things to see to, my lady, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“No, Sally, wait, please,” Narcissa begged. “Does… Does she love him, do you think?”

“Yes, my lady. Reckon she does, at that.”

Narcissa smiled wistfully and sent up a silent prayer that her sister got the happy ever after she so richly deserved.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lady—”

“No, wait!” Narcissa said urgently. “Please, Sally. Please… let me out.”

There was a taut silence, and Narcissa held her breath.

“I don’t dare, my lady,” came the regretful reply. “I’m in enough trouble with what I’ve got planned.”

“Will you go after her?”

“Reckon so,” Sally replied. “This ain’t a happy place to work and, with my lady gone, there won’t be a place for me anyhow.”