Page 18 of The Book of Lost Stories
‘Ha!’ said the major. ‘You think because I am tied by the legin this accursed place that I know nothing of what you have been doing.’
‘Well, if you heard that I had been flirting with Lord Rayven, or anyone else, you were misinformed,’ she said calmly, ‘so pray do not get into a fuss.’
But it was evident that she would never be allowed to go to Harrogate – or anywhere else – again. As long as her papa lived she would continue here in genteel poverty, dwindling into an old maid. She had always known it was to be her lot, but now firmly put away romantic dreams she had scarce known she was harbouring until that moment of supreme disillusionment by the riverbank.
After her papa’s demise she could probably continue at the Dower House, under the squire or his heir’s sufferance, in reduced circumstances. Indeed, if the major continued to sell out his small capital as he had begun to,exceedinglyreduced circumstances.
Or she might seek a post as a companion, but governessing was not an option open to her, since she was sadly deficient in such skills as Italian and the use of the globes.
Her future prospects seemed so infinitely dreary that she quite shocked Letty, to whom she had by now told the whole sorry tale of her encounters with Lord Rayven, by joking that a life of sin was beginning to have some attractions in comparison.
But there justmightbe another alternative open to her: that of supporting herself – and dear Letty, of course – by her pen. She began to apply herself to her writing with renewed vigour, polishing and reworking her prose until it was as perfect as she could make it.
Then the book was dispatched to Thomas Grimshaw in London, who agreed to undertake the task of interestinga publisher in it. Should he manage to do so, Letty was of the opinion that he would also drive a hard bargain on her behalf … or rather, that of Orlando Browne, for much though Alys would have liked to have seen her own name in print, she had absolutely no intention of telling Papa, should her writing meet with success.
‘But if my nephew is fortunate enough to place the novel with a publisher, surelythenyou must tell the major?’ Letty suggested timidly, when informed of her decision.
‘Most definitely not,’ Alys said decidedly. ‘Should I receive any moneys for my work, then what is the point of turning them over to my father? He would only hastenhisend, andourpoverty, by drinking them away!’
‘But, dear Alys, to deceive he who must legally have the right to—’
‘He has the right tonothing, for he is incapable of thinking of anyone other than himself. What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. And just think, Letty, if this novel “takes”, then I will immediately write another, and another … and any money I earn will be all invested to support us once Papa goes to meet his Maker.’
‘Us?’ questioned Letty hopefully. ‘You … you mean that you would want me to remain as your companion, Alys?’
‘Yes of course. How would I go on without you to bear me company and lend me respectability?’
There was the sound of a pistol shot, a crashing of glass and an almost demonic howl of triumph from the garden, and they exchanged speaking looks.
‘Perhaps you are right, after all,’ Letty conceded. ‘And we may trust Thomas to keep your secret and invest any money wisely for you.’
‘Let us not count our chickens before they are hatched,’ Alys said, although in her heart she was still buoyed up with the confidence of the tyro, and sure thatMalvinawould be not only published, but also animmediatesuccess.
And if all her future villains turned out to be tall, dark, hawk-nosed men, prone to seizing the heroine in a rough embrace and pressing passionate kisses upon their unwilling lips, well, it was hardly to be surprised at.
9
Life on the Page
1809–1812
Malvina pushed aside the veil of ivy and stepped out into the moonlight. Freedom, at last! Yet before her, as far as the eye could see, lay a wild and craggy vista.
The Travails of Lady MalvinabyORLANDO BROWNE
No sooner had Alys completed and dispatched her first novel, than she was searching around for a subject for the next, and inspiration came in the unlikely form of James Basset.
He had been sitting with them for quite half an hour prosing on about celestial bodies, but now through a rain-smeared window she watched him ride away on his stout cob, as unromantic a figure of a young man as could be. Yet, if she half-closed her eyes and used a little imagination, how transformed might he become?
‘Letty, what if James were really a villain,’ she suddenly suggested, ‘and Sir Ralph banished him to the plantation on Antigua, because of his scandalous wrongdoings?’
Miss Grimshaw’s mouth dropped open, making her look like a half-witted sheep. ‘A – a villain? But James is not – he could not – indeed, he is the mostproperyoung man!’
‘Justpretendit, Letty. This is a book, not real life.’
She took a hasty turn or two around the little parlour, eyes aglow with excitement. ‘So, off he goes to Antigua where he ensnares an innocent and beautiful heiress. Then, on hearing of his father’s death, he brings her back to his half-ruined and picturesquely remote castle.’
‘But Sidlington Hall is not a castle, or very remote.’
