The Spider's Touch by Patricia Wynn Page B

Mayfield.”
    “I thought Lord Hawkhurst agreed to speak to the King for Dudley.”
    “Yes, he did. So you know of intent, and there is no cause for you to refuse me, Dame Right.”
    “I only meant that it might be better for my lord to speak to Herr Bothmar or Herr Bernstorff instead.”
    Mrs. Mayfield dismissed this idiotic notion with a laugh that was meant to express her fondness for her son-in-law. “That will never work, and I shall tell you why. Dear Lord Hawkhurst is so congenial, he is likely to let Mr. Bothmar put him off. That gentleman is besieged night and day with requests for posts, and those are from people who are much more ruthless than Isabella’s husband. A simple request will never do the trick, even from an earl, when so many others are paying dearly for the privilege. I have heard a clear three thousand may be required, either to La Schulenberg or to Madame Kielmansegge.
    “Besides,” she went on, “Hawkhurst will be happier if we can tell him how it is to be done without he bestirs himself too much. So I want you to bring it up with her today.”
    Hester did not even try to hide her dismay. “Aunt, I fail to see how I, a mere dependent, can raise such a sensitive subject. Wouldn’t it be more suitable for Isabella to introduce it?”
    The expression on Mrs. Mayfield’s face reflected the continuous battle that raged inside her. She could never bring herself to admit that her daughter did not have the brains to undertake the mission, yet she was determined to keep Hester in her place.
    After a few more seconds’ struggle, she finally said, “My daughter, the Countess, must never appear to doubt her husband’s ability to pull it off. She must remain above such things.
    “But you, Hester—you will be expected to contrive for the advancement of your family. Why, I am sure Mrs. Jamison will not help us to find a rich wife for Mayfield without we send her a good haunch of venison—if not the whole beast. Such manoeuvrings must fall to the dependents of the great, else where would the money come from to feed us all?”
    With that pointed reminder of the fate that might yet be Hester’s if she failed to fulfill her duties, Mrs. Mayfield left her standing in the hall.
    They would not leave to call on Madame Schulenberg until half past three, but Hester doubted she would have enough time to gather her wits for such an enterprise. How did one go about proposing a bribe?
    In the hope that a quiet place would be more conducive to scheming, she left the hall with its marble staircase and headed to a comfortable closet on the first floor, where some of Lord Hawkhurst’s books had been shelved. She had noticed that Harrowby never bothered to enjoy them, and it was unlikely that any of her relatives ever would. She could count on this room’s being empty most days, which made it almost hers.
    She still could not reconcile herself to her change in circumstances, which had been brought about by Isabella’s marriage. In every direction she turned, she saw splendour—marble columns and floors, furniture in satin and gilt, great paintings by the masters, and ceilings on which the plaster had been carved by Gibbons himself. She was surrounded by beauty, clothed in gowns she had never dreamed of—even if most of them had been Isabella’s—and introduced to some of the most powerful people in England.
    It all tasted bitter, though, because it rightfully belonged to St. Mars. And she did not even know where he was.
    She was on the point of entering the smallish room when James Henry surprised her, coming out of it. Nearly colliding with her, he looked almost as disconcerted as she felt.
    “Mrs. Kean, I was looking for you. May I beg a moment of your time?”
    “Certainly, sir.” She was taken aback to discover that he must have observed her habits, else he would never have known to look for her here.
    He stood aside and let her pass, with that unconscious grace that reminded her of his brother.
    “Is