Lady Margery's Intrigues by Marion Chesney Page B

“I know the world. I stay shut up here so's to keep away from her and her fat feet and hairy face. But certain times I go down to the village to get a bit of young flesh. I'm still the lord ‘bout these parts, heh! Respect the ladies, but the trollops? Let ‘em scream and yell. There's worse in life than to be mounted by me, heh!”
    He was advancing on her. His wig had slipped completely to one side in his excitement and his shaven head gleamed in the rose light.
    Margery looked wildly round for a means of escape. Lord Sanderson's pudgy hands were stretching to the fastenings of her dress. She turned and banged furiously on the wall. Miraculously both doors slid open and Margery catapulted through, but not before she had left a sizable piece of her muslin dress in Lord Sanderson's beefy hands.
    Once again she was fleeing through the chain of saloons, but this time she was screaming for help at the top of her voice as Lord Sanderson lumbered after her.
    Suddenly everyone appeared at once. She collided with the fat bulk of Lady Sanderson and sat down with a thump on the floor. The startled faces of Toby, the marquess, and Lady Sanderson gazed down at her.
    Lady Sanderson was the first to recover her wits. She glared from the white face of Margery to the beefy hand of her husband, which was still clutching a piece of muslin.
    “Strumpet!” she yelled at Margery.
    “Hold on!” The cold voice of the Marquess of Edgecombe cut off whatever further Lady Sanderson was going to say. “I think Lord Sanderson owes us all an explanation.”
    “That's a fine one,” said Lord Sanderson. “I'm in my own manor and on my own land and a lightskirt is a lightskirt."
    “If I didn't think you were quite mad,” said the marquess, “I would call you out, despite your age.”
    “I'll show you what kind of woman she is,” spluttered his lordship. “Come along!” They trailed after him to his study, Margery holding the rags of her dress round her.
    In silence, Lord Sanderson handed them the Gazette . In silence three pairs of eyes looked at it and then turned and stared at Margery.
    The marquess was the first to speak. “This must be a practical joke,” he said with a reassuring smile.
    Distraught with shame and worry, Margery blurted out, “But I told them not to announce the engagement. I didn't mean ... I didn't know ... I hadn't made up my mind which of them I would marry.”
    The look of distaste and contempt on the marquess's face made Margery recoil as if he had struck her.
    Toby Sanderson had forgotten all about ending his engagement. His friends had stolen a march on him—had made a fool of him. He felt as if he had caught them cheating at cards.
    He made Margery a clumsy bow. “Your honor shall be avenged, my lady,” he said and strode from the room.
    “Don't be a fool, Toby,” yelled the marquess. “It was all her fault!”
    Their voices died away to a murmur. Lord and Lady Sanderson stared at their young guest with baleful eyes.
    Lady Margery became aware that Lady Amelia was standing at the entrance to the room. Amelia walked forward and put a comforting arm round Margery's shoulders.
    “Come, dear,” she said. “We shall pack and leave immediately.”
    “She ain't leaving nohow until we get an apology,” snapped Lady Sanderson.
    Margery had never known Amelia to be anything other than a motherly, tranquil person. Now a new Amelia emerged. With gray eyes as hard as frost, she stared down at the ruin of Margery's dress and then at Lord Sanderson until he dropped his eyes.
    “You deserve to be horsewhipped or put on show at Bartholomew Fair with the other freaks,” she said in a voice that dripped acid. “You will inform the servants that we are leaving, and if you so much as interrupt my progress, I shall not be responsible for my actions.”
    She drew the trembling girl from the room and left my lord and my lady staring after her in surprise. They felt as if some pet hound had suddenly bitten them in the