A Dream Come True (11 page)

She remembered what an effortlessly well-mannered and pleasant man her father had been and it made her so very sad.

‘Oh, Papa,' she prayed, momentarily forgetting the duties at hand. ‘I hope that you are watching over Mama and willing her better. I miss you so very much.'

It was all she could do not to cry as her eyes threatened to fill with tears. Quickly, she searched for something else to do and noticing another pile of letters she began to inspect them.

Sure enough they were yet to be answered, each one with pencilled notes from Lord Winterton, guiding her as to how to respond.

And again there were unopened letters that she supposed to be from ladies.

She stood with the silver letter opener poised over the first one, hesitant.

‘Well, he did say I should open everything and compose a clever reply,' she exclaimed before slitting it open.

She quickly scanned the contents. It was in the same vein as the other letter. Another lady, this time a Mrs.Radford-Hall, had written entreating him to visit her the following weekend as her husband was away in Scotland.

‘Does Lady Shelley know that she is not the only woman in his life?' she wondered, as she quickly composed a suitably efficient yet noncommittal reply.

‘I do wish he had not insisted that I open these billets doux and reply to them. It really isn't something to entrust to a new secretary.'

It occurred to her that Lord Winterton may have been playing a game with her.

‘Perhaps he seeks to shock and finds sport in outraging me,' she debated. ‘Well, I will prove to him that I am not easily ruffled!'

With the letter to Mrs. Radford-Hall completed, she opened another. The hand was ill-formed and came from an actress at the Gaiety Theatre.

She raised a neat eyebrow and then replied that she was very much afraid that his Lordship would not be able to attend an intimate dinner after her performance in The Sunshine Girl at the theatre that Saturday.

She also replied to a rather important Duchess, a French Comtesse and a woman who simply signed herself, your own Margaretta.

As she put the finishing touches to the last one, she heard Lady Shelley's voice outside in the hall. Then the front door opened and closed.

“Thank Heavens she has gone,” said Lucia out loud.

Not five minutes later, a rather dishevelled-looking Lord Winterton appeared in the study. He seemed quite unabashed about the fact that his waistcoat was partially undone and his hair was no longer neat and tidy.

“Ah, Lucia. I have a rather urgent missive from my Solicitor that I would ask you to reply to. It came a few hours ago. Are you able to take dictation?”

“Of course, I excelled in stenography,” replied Lucia taking up pencil and pad.

Lord Winterton fiddled with his waistcoat buttons as he dictated the letter. It appeared that he was in the process of buying some land at the edge of his estate.

Lucia bowed her head and tried not to stare as his powerful fingers caressed the buttons – the same fingers that had no doubt just caressed Lady Shelley's face.

The image of him trailing his hands against Lady Shelley's white throat would not leave Lucia's mind and she was shocked at herself.

And even more she actively wondered what it might feel like to have him caress her own skin in such a way.

‘It is his bad influence in this bad house that is causing me to have such thoughts,' she said to herself, as he walked around the room, pausing to think of his next sentence.

At five o'clock on the dot, Lord Winterton lost all interest in dictation and announced that the working day was now over.

“I will ring for Jepson and ask him to show you upstairs. I am certain that you are eager to see your room. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall see you at dinner. Do not worry – we shall not be interrupted by any more uninvited visitors.”

He almost winked as he referred to Lady Shelley and Lucia was horrified. Blushing she lowered her gaze and mumbled that she would see him later.

Lord Winterton sharply tugged on the bell before leaving the room with his hands in his pockets and whistling to himself.

Jepson came into the room and Lucia asked to be shown to her room.

“Come with me, Miss Mountford. His Lordship has arranged everything and hopes it will be to your satisfaction.”

Lucia followed him up the ornate staircase with its highly polished handrail and felt the plush carpet give beneath her feet.

Everything about Longfield Manor spoke of luxury and money. She looked up at paintings of hunts and wondered if Lord Winterton found time to ride to hounds.

‘It would seem as if his ancestors loved the sport, even if he does not,' she thought, eyeing one study of an elegant uniformed gentleman on horseback, who bore more than a passing resemblance to Lord Winterton.

“In here, Miss Mountford,” intoned Jepson, as he opened a door for her.

As Lucia walked in, a pleasant-looking girl with jet-black hair and pale skin bobbed a curtsy.

“Good afternoon, mademoiselle,” she said in a pronounced French accent.

Lucia's eyes lit up.

“
Vous êtes française
?” she asked, fluently and with confidence.

“
Mais, oui, mademoiselle. Et vous parlez bien le
français
.”

Jepson looked astonished and coughed nervously.

“I can see that Antoinette will look after you very well,” he said. “I will leave you in her capable hands.”

Lucia asked where she came from and was delighted when she told her Paris.

Very soon they were chatting away like old friends. Antoinette showed her around the room. It was large and beautifully decorated in the French style and had huge windows overlooking the garden.

Lucia ran forward and cried aloud with joy,

“A white peacock!”

“Yes, 'is Lordship is very proud of it,” answered Antoinette, who had already finished unpacking Lucia's trunks. “It was shipped over from the Far East.”

“I have never seen a white one before,” she commented, watching it lope across the lawns. “It's so beautiful.”

“I have run a bath for you, miss. In there, if you please to look.”

Lucia walked over to a door that was slightly ajar. The room was full of scented steam and there were fine soaps on the basin and a pile of white towels by the bath. Everything was the height of luxury and very modern.

“I am so 'appy to be serving you,” chattered Antoinette, while Lucia undressed. “I 'ave trained to be a lady's maid and I confess I was a little puzzled when 'is Lordship engaged me as he is not married. It is unusual that a secretary has a lady's maid, non? But Monsieur Jepson, 'e say that you are a lady yourself.”

Lucia's heart sank.

‘He must have asked her to look after me so that when we are married, she will continue to be my maid and be familiar with my requirements,' she deduced.

“I am not strictly speaking a lady,” she replied, as she eased herself into the foaming bath. “Papa was a Lord, but I am just a miss.”

“Oh, I see,” said Antoinette. “Boof! I shall never get used to your English Lords and Ladies. Who is Lady, who is Lord – so many!”

Lucia thought that she would very much enjoy having Antoinette to take care of her needs and she would be able to speak French more often.

The hot bath was most welcome after working so hard all day. Her shoulders and neck were stiff from pounding the typewriter keyboard and she had not realised how tense she had been.

She soaped her shoulders and lay back in the hot water. The bathroom was so much more luxurious than hers at Bingham Hall.

‘At least I shall have every comfort while I am here,' she thought. ‘I wish though that I did not have to be away from Mama. I wonder if Lord Winterton will allow me to telephone home later this evening to see how she is?'

Later at the dressing table Antoinette brushed out her thick blonde hair and commented on how pretty it was.

“So much hair!” she said admiringly. “How shall I dress it for you?”

Lucia allowed her to style it in the French manner and found it very becoming. As she laced her into her dark-red satin dress, she thought how grown up she looked.

‘Sometimes, I still feel as if I am eighteen years old,' she thought, as she admired her reflection. ‘It is a pity that Papa is not here to see me.'

Just then the gong sounded for dinner.

“Come, mademoiselle. Do not keep 'is Lordship waiting.”

Lucia thanked her and walked downstairs to find Jepson waiting for her.

“Good evening, Miss Mountford. His Lordship is waiting for you in the dining room,” he said with a smile.

Lucia moved silently into the room and found Lord Winterton already seated.

As soon as he saw her, he leapt to his feet.

“Ravishing,” he said in a low voice. “I was not wrong thinking that my first impression of you was that of an angel come down from Heaven.”

Lucia felt a hot flush spread over her features that she tried hard to control.

He stared at her in much the same way that he had regarded Lady Shelley earlier that afternoon and it caused her to become heated.

“It is unseasonably warm, is it not?” she said, trying to explain away her glowing features.

“I had thought it rather chill this evening,” commented Lord Winterton, as he pulled out a chair for her.

“I trust that the room is to your liking? It was my mother's favourite room in the house and has the best views over the gardens.”

She sank down in the chair, very aware of him standing behind her. She could feel his warmth as he eased the chair in towards the table.

“Thank you, it is very nice.”

“Now I have something that I wish you to have that would look perfect with that gown,” he said producing a jewellery case from his jacket.

She looked up him questioningly.

“It would please me greatly if you would wear it. It was Mama's. Consider it on permanent loan, as I hate to see beautiful jewels gathering dust. They should always be around the neck of a lovely woman.”

“But I could not – ”

“I want you to wear it to please me,” he insisted, opening the case and taking out the necklace.

A cluster of garnets sparkled under the chandelier and Lucia could see that it was a very fine and expensive piece.

“Allow me,” he volunteered in a voice that was almost a caress.

The hairs on Lucia's neck rose as his fingers brushed against her while he was doing up the catch. It sent shivers down her spine and ignited something inside her that she could not name. Whatever it was, it made her feel rather uncomfortable.

Yet, the moment he moved his fingers away, she felt strangely bereft.

He stood back and looked at her admiringly.

“Perfect!” he declared before resuming his seat, while Jepson served the soup.

The garnets glittered around her neck and she wished she could see what they looked like.

‘Is it something I am doing that makes him so bold around me?' she thought, as they made polite conversation. ‘Do I, in some way, encourage him?'

The soup was delicious and so was the chicken a la crème that followed.

“You are to be congratulated on your choice of chef,” enthused Lucia as she finished. “I have not eaten such wonderful food since I was in France.”

“Jepson will now serve pudding and I don't think you will be disappointed. I have heard that there are strawberries from Spain involved.”

“Already?” exclaimed Lucia. “We are just into April. Surely it is too early?”

“Harrods have them shipped in from Spain. Frightfully expensive but utterly delicious. I wanted to spoil you!”

“There was really no need,” replied Lucia, beginning to feel awkward.

“Oh, you must keep your strength up for the tasks ahead,” said Lord Winterton mysteriously. “Clearing my correspondence was just your first duty. Tomorrow we begin work on a project that is very dear to my heart. It will mean long hours and much hard work on your part.”

“What is it?” questioned Lucia intrigued.

“I have been entrusted with a very important responsibility,” he began. “It is a monument to dear friends of mine who owned an estate nearby. They went down with the Titanic last year – shocking business! I have managed to persuade His Majesty himself to attend the unveiling, but there is not much time. The ceremony is scheduled for the last week in June and we have much to do and little time in which to organise everything.”

“
The Titanic
?” whispered Lucia.

Unable to control herself, she started shaking. Tears came unbidden and she crumpled over the dining table.

“Whatever is the matter?” he asked. “Is it something I have said?”

“Oh! You cannot know,” cried Lucia. “My Papa went down in the very same ship last April. Please forgive me, but I still greatly feel the pain of our loss.”

He rose and came towards her. Tenderly he put his arm round her.

“I am so sorry – I did not realise,” he said gently. “Please, dry your tears.”

He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to her.

“You must still be very upset. It was a terrible, terrible tragedy. The Duke and Duchess of Wantage were my friends, but I know that London lost a good many important people on that dreadful evening.”

“I miss Papa a great deal,” replied Lucia, feeling strangely comforted by his arm around her shoulders. “We were so close and now my Mama has remarried, I feel as if he has been forgotten.”

“I am certain that your Mama has not dismissed him from her thoughts and you must not be hard on her for wishing to remarry. The world is difficult for women on their own without someone to protect them. I know Sir Arthur is different from us coming from the North, but he will always ensure that your Mama is cared for.”

It was on the tip of Lucia's tongue to comment that she was not so certain that Sir Arthur would do the right thing by her mother. After all, was she not sick in bed and yet he refused her the best medical attention?