Scandal In Scotland Part 17

Lady Loughton kicked Lady Durham in the s.h.i.+n.

"Ow!" Lady Durham grabbed her leg through her gown. "Jane! Why did you do that?"

Jane, apparently made of stern stuff indeed, merely said, "What we're doing is our own business."

Marcail spread her hands before her. "Please, I've no wish to intrude but there doesn't seem to be any other room I could purchase just now and my own bedchamber is being readied."

Lady Durham was instantly contrite. "Oh, my dear, no one is suggesting that you must go elsewhere."

"Unless you ask too many questions," Lady Loughton qualified. "I don't have patience for questions."

Mrs. MacClannahan sniffed. "This is me only lady's parlor and ye'll all have to share it. The common room is full o' men."

"That's true," Lady Durham said, blinking owlishly behind her spectacles. She leaned toward Marcail and said in a low voice, "I know, for I listened in when I went to fetch my dear sister some medicine for her poor knee. But then the French are always so improper." She turned to her sister. "Jane, isn't it pleasant to have a visitor?"

"I suppose," Lady Loughton grumbled, rubbing her knee and wincing.

Lady Durham added in a bracing tone. "She's quite thin and doesn't look as if she'll eat many tea cakes."

Lady Loughton sniffed. "I suppose she won't. But just don't expect us to entertain you with tales of what's in our coach."

"Of course not," Marcail said, quelling a smile.

Lady Loughton pinned the innkeeper's wife with an intent look. "I hope you're not charging poor Miss Beauchamp for the use of this parlor when we've already paid for it."

Mrs. MacClannahan flushed. "I charge by the person, I do."

Lady Loughton lifted her brows. "Miss Beauchamp, if I were you, I would demand the return of my money. It was unfairly charged."

Mrs. MacClannahan stomped to the door. "I'm leaving. And don't be askin' fer more tea, neither, for I won't bring it to ye!"

"Good," said Lady Loughton. "It's wretched. Pray tell your kitchen maids to leave it on to steep at least five more minutes. This pot of tea is so weak, you could read through it."

The door snapped shut behind Mrs. MacClannahan.

Marcail sighed. She would have loved a cup of hot tea.

Lady Durham clapped her hands. "Miss Beauchamp, come and sit by me." She indicated the chair to the side of her own. "I shall pour you some tea. There are two extra cups and it is really not as bad as Jane says."

Marcail removed her bonnet, unb.u.t.toned her pelisse, and hung them on a hook near the fireplace. A hot bath and hot tea? Her lips almost quivered from the excitement. "That would be lovely, thank you."

Within moments she was ensconced in a chair, a lap blanket spread over her, a cup of delicious warm tea in her hands. She breathed in the scent of bergamot and orange pekoe.

"Excellent tea, isn't it?" Lady Durham said, nodding so hard her cap flopped on her head. "It's a bit weak, as Jane pointed out, so I added a little something to mine." She glanced at the closed door and then slipped a hand into her pocket and withdrew a small brown bottle. "Just a bit of this and the tea tastes-here, would you like some?" She uncorked the bottle and the distinctive scent of cognac wafted through the air.

"Emma!" Lady Loughton snapped, looking thoroughly put out. "You can't go around giving people your medicine."

"I was only going to give her a small bit, just to liven up her tea."

"I'm sure it's lively enough for Miss-" Lady Loughton's bright blue gaze narrowed. "What did you say your name was?"

"Miss Beauchamp, but you may call me Marcail."

"Marcail, what an unusual name!" Lady Durham said brightly, sipping her tea, which was now half cognac. She scanned Marcail with interest. "I think I might have heard that name somewhere."

"As have I," Lady Loughton said, tilting her head to one side. "You look familiar, too ... Hmmmmmm."

Marcail took a sip of tea, hoping that neither of them knew who she was.

Lady Durham held up her brown bottle. "Are you certain you don't want-"

"Emma, leave the child be."

Lady Durham's smile faded. "Very well. I was just trying to be polite." She slurped her drink and then replaced it on the table. "So, Miss Beauchamp, what brings you to the Pelican? Oh, and do call me Emma. We're all cozy here in the parlor. No need to stand on formality."

Lady Loughton dipped her head. "You may call me Jane, if you wish. I'm not one for formalities, either."

Marcail had to smile. "Emma and Jane, then. I'm waiting for someone."

Jane's bird-bright gaze fastened on Marcail. "Oh, is it a romantic meeting? Those are the best."

"I'm looking for my cousin. If you happen to see a very tall, red-haired lady, would you let me know? We were separated."

"Oh dear, how dreadful for you." Emma tsked. "We haven't seen many women travelers today, have we, Jane?"

"Not today, though that Frenchman in the common room could be female. He's covered with lace and minces when he walks."

"I think he's rather handsome," Emma said. "He's certainly tall. Of course he wears far too much cologne. I had to put some of my medicine under my nose so I could breathe after he pa.s.sed us in the hallway."

"He must have bathed with the stuff, acting as if-" Jane set down her cup with a click. "That's it! I knew I'd seen you before. Your eyes and coloring are so unusual that I couldn't forget them. You're that actress!"

Marcails throat tightened painfully. Here it comes.

Emma gaped through her gla.s.ses. "Why, Jane, I do believe you're right! This is the woman whose Lady MacBeth brought even Wexford to tears!"

"And Wexford is a hard nut to crack," Lady Jane said with satisfaction. "He's our nephew-in-law, and a stubborn rakeh.e.l.l to boot. Or he was until he married our niece, Arabella. She's softened him a bit."

"You're a famous actress, too." Emma patted Marcail's knee. "I'm glad to meet a woman so capable in her art."

Marcail smiled. "Why, thank you."

Jane sipped her tea. "You're much better than that fat woman-Emma, what's her name?"

"Mrs. Delbert or Mrs. Dantry or Mrs.-"

"Mrs. Dalton?" Marcail ventured, naming one of the grand dames of the theater.

"Yes, that's her! It's such an embarra.s.sment when one is forced to watch someone of one's own s.e.x make a fool of herself."

"And it happens far too often," Emma added, swis.h.i.+ng some of her "tea" in her mouth before swallowing it.

"Usually because some fool of a man has talked her into a position for which she's not prepared," Jane added acerbicly. "Based not upon her abilities, but upon how large her b.r.e.a.s.t.s may be."

"Oh dear, yes," Emma agreed, taking a swig of her tea and pouring more. "As if having large b.r.e.a.s.t.s would make a woman good at acting, or being a governess, or any number of professions."

Marcail choked on her tea.

Emma absently patted Marcail on the back and then added a huge swig of "medicine" to the newly poured tea. "The only profession where large b.r.e.a.s.t.s would be an a.s.set would be if one were forced to carry something of weight upon one's back. Then one's b.r.e.a.s.t.s might act as counterweights."

"Very good, Emma," Jane agreed, taking a sip of her tea as if discussing b.r.e.a.s.t.s was a normal, everyday affair. "I've often thought it was a pity there were not more purpose for b.r.e.a.s.t.s other than feeding children, and you just came up with a delightful one. I'm sure we can think of more if we put our minds to it."

"I don't think there are any other useful applications for b.r.e.a.s.t.s." Emma took another very long drink of her "tea." "For a woman to be truly liberated, she has to be free of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s."

Marcail blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Jane sighed. "Don't let Emma's wild talking disturb you. She's become a suffragette ever since we went to that speaker at the Ladies' Guild Hall."

"Miss Colton," Emma said, her voice almost reverent. "Have you heard of her?"

"I've read about her in the papers. She's a bit of a radical."

"So she is," Emma said, beaming woozily. "She's a suffera-sulfera-suphragr-That thing that Jane said. That sounds so exciting, doesn't it?"

"Yes, indeed."

Jane snorted. "Well, I don't think it sounds exciting at all. Women shouldn't be allowed to vote. We're too excitable."

"I'm not too excitable," Emma said, blinking owlishly through her gla.s.ses.

"Well, I am," Jane stated.

"No, you're not. You're calmer than me. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen you anything but calm. Well, except for when you fell in love with Sir Loughton." Emma leaned toward Marcail. "That was a nerve-wracking time, because Jane wagered her innocence on a game of cards and lost. Fortunately he wished to marry her, even though he'd already won the right to-"

"Emma!" Jane's face was red. "That is quite enough. I'm sure Miss Beauchamp has no desire to learn such intimate details of our lives."

Usually Marcail would have agreed, but she'd spent most of the day alone in a coach. At least Jane and Emma were distracting. "I promise that anything you say in this room will never be repeated. I am most discreet."

"She's an actress, too," Emma added unnecessarily. "They are always discreet. They have to be, for they have so many affairs."

Marcail gasped. "I don't."

Jane said, "Perhaps I should have gone onstage. I thought about it when I was younger."

"I don't think Sir Loughton would like it if you did it now," Emma said thoughtfully.

"I think you're right, which is why I should do it. It's good to surprise your man now and then. Keeps him on his toes."

Marcail didn't think she'd ever met two stranger or more delightful women.

"We now know why Miss Marcail is here," Emma said. "But she doesn't know why we're here. Jane, may I tell her? She's been most discreet and hasn't mentioned any of her affairs. Not a one!"

Jane waved a hand. "You may tell her."

Emma leaned forward, the smell of cognac wafting with her. "You wouldn't know it to look at us, but we're on a secret mission."

Jane glanced at the closed door, then added, "We're making a delivery."

Emma fished a heavy silver chain from her neck, tugging it over her head. Her mobcap fluttered to her knees and she slapped it back on before handing the chain to Marcail.

At the end was a long vial. "That is what we're delivering. It's sheep tonic."

"I beg your pardon-sheep tonic?"

Emma nodded vigorously, making her lace cap tilt at a rakish angle. "Jane and I make the best sheep tonic in all of Yorks.h.i.+re."

Jane looked pleased. "We do. Our sheep have more lambs than anyone else's. Lots more lambs."

"Of course, our nephew-in-law, the Duke of Wexford, didn't like it when we dosed him up with it and-"

Marcail held up a hand. "Wait. You dosed a duke with sheep tonic?"

"Do you know him?" Emma looked delighted at the possibility.

"He has a box at the theater and frequently attends with his wife."

"That's Arabella, our niece," Jane said proudly.

Emma beamed. "She married Wexford and now she's a d.u.c.h.ess." She looked at the closed door again before she leaned forward and said in a low voice, "I think he married her because of our sheep tonic."

"Emma, don't say such a thing! Wexford married Arabella because he loves her."

"I know he loves her, but our sheep tonic helped him figure out that he loved her. He was ill, you know, but wouldn't stay in bed. You can't get out of bed if you take sheep tonic. That made him heal, and he stayed long enough to realize that he loved our niece."

Marcail didn't know how she kept from laughing. "Do you often use your sheep tonic on people?"

Jane shrugged. "Only when necessary."

"And it works?"

"Lud, yes! Wexford didn't rise for weeks."

"And he was in love with Arabella." Miss Emma uncapped her flask and added a splash of cognac to her empty teacup. "Don't forget that part! Many people think of sheep tonic as a love tonic, but it's more of an immobilizer. If you dose someone with it, they can't move."

"But they can still talk," Jane added in a reflective voice.

"Oh yes, they become quite chatty. Perhaps that's the part that makes them fall in love-staying in one place long enough to talk things through. People don't do that enough, you know."

Marcail thought wistfully of William. It would be nice if he were in love with her again. She sipped her tea thoughtfully. "Does this sheep tonic work on everyone?"