The Flawed Mistress (The Summerville Journals) by Margaret Brazear Read Free Book Online Page A

to speak to her that morning, before my courage fled.
       
“I wish to know, Alice,”
I said firmly when she brought my breakfast, “What you have done with my
diamond bracelet.”
        “My Lady?   Have you lost another piece of
jewellery?”
       
“I have not.  Nor have I lost any others.”  I found the anger then to
carry on.  I had been treated like a backward child long enough.  “I
know you have stolen from me.  I do not want someone in my house whom I cannot trust with my possessions or my secrets.”
       
I thought she might at least lower her gaze, look ashamed, ask forgiveness.  She would have had I been a man or a woman with more
power.  As it was, I was a helpless creature with no money and no male
protection except an uncle who was not allowed to go to the same places as I,
and who did not care for me anyway.
       
She shrugged and put down the tray.
       
“You mean like the handsome secret who brought his
carriage for you last night, My Lady?”  She asked impertinently.
       
“Lord Summerville is not a secret,” I replied angrily.  “He was sent by
the King himself to escort me to the ball.”
       
There was a definite smirk on her round face which made me angry enough to
strike her, but I managed to keep myself under control.
       
“He may not be a secret yet,” she went on, “but give him time.”
       
No ‘My Lady’ that time.  The woman was getting bolder and more insolent.
       
“What does that mean exactly,” I demanded.
       
“Let us just say that His Lordship has something of a reputation with the
ladies,” she replied with that same smirk.  “I mean, look at him!  He
would not give me a second glance but if he did, I would not be the one to
refuse him.”
       
I was horrified, both by her implication and by her brazenness.
       
“You have a foul mind, mistress,” I replied quickly, “and I will thank you to
remove it and yourself from my house and from my employment.  You have one
hour to get your things together and leave, and I mean your things, not mine!”
       
“You cannot do that,” she argued.  “I am not employed by you.  You do
not pay my wages.”
       
“My late husband did not employ you to steal from me and accuse me of
adultery.”
       
“Your late husband did not employ me at all!  It is your uncle who pays
for this house and the servants, your clothing and your sustenance.”  She
took a deep breath and looked satisfied that she had shocked me.
         “My uncle?”   I replied, shaking my head. 
“No.  You are wrong.  The Earl left this house and pension for me
during my lifetime.”
         “No, he
left you nothing.  He did not care if you starved on the streets.  It
is your uncle who bought the house at auction and keeps you.”
         “Get
out!”  I screamed.  “Get out now, and do not return!”
         I must
have screamed very loudly because at that moment Harry, one of the men servants
opened the door without knocking and appeared with a look of real concern.
         “My
Lady,” he said quickly.  “Is everything all right?”
         “No, it
is not.  Can you make sure that this woman takes her belongings and leaves
my house at once?  Or do you have some objection to my making those
decisions?”
         “No, My
Lady,” he replied quietly.  “Whatever you say.”
         “Good,
because if you cannot do that, you may go with her and anyone else who feels
they have the right to steal from me.”
         He took
her arm and guided her to the door but I stopped him before he left the room.
         “Have
the carriage brought round, please.  I wish to visit my uncle.”
         I could
hardly believe what the woman had told me.  How could my uncle have
deceived me like this, and what was his motive?  Why did he not want the
credit for his good act?  Did he suppose I might be too proud and want to
move into his house instead?  Just