“Thank you; it smells delicious.” For a moment, the cook showed her strong teeth in what might have been a smile. Encouraged, Lillian asked, “Have you worked here a long time?”
“Fifteen years. Started as slavey. Nobody leaves the castle once they start.”
The maid asked, “Do you want porter or stout with that?”
“Tea, please,” Lillian said without thinking.
“Tea? I ain’t got the key to the tea, miss. Couldn’t expect me to. Would you fancy some ale, instead?”
Alcohol as the first drink of the day did not appeal to Lillian. Neither, however, did she care to hurt the maid’s feelings. After all, she’d answered Lillian’s question about breakfast with breakfast.
“Actually, this bread is so very good, I don’t believe I need anything to wash it down with. Thank you, though, very much. Has Miss Addy had her breakfast yet?”
“Her? Love you, miss, hours ago. She don’t wait for nobody that one. A proper young limb, she is. Hardly like a girl at all, if you ask me. More like one of them nasty boys at the house I worked at afore I come here. I don’t envy you your job, then, not a whit.”
The cook broke into their conversation to say, “Are you goin’ to sit there all the morning, Burrows? Them rooms don’t dust themselves and Mrs. Becksnaff said—”
“All righ’, then. I got to get on with me work, miss.”
“I understand. And I’d better find Miss Addy. We start lessons today.”
Burrows goggled at her a moment and then went away, shaking her head. This lack of confidence in her abilities did not deter Lillian from her purpose. Laying awake for nearly fifteen minutes last night, she’d planned how to interest Addy in the rudiments of reading. Now, all she required was a pupil.
Passing the butler on her way up from the kitchen, Lillian said to him, “Excuse me, Mr. Becksnaff. Do you know where Miss Addy might be?”
“No, I do not. It’s not my place to go looking after her.” And the portly man all but elbowed her aside in the narrow passageway as he continued on.
Though Lillian raised her eyebrows at his reaction, she realized she’d most likely transgressed one of the rules of order below stairs. She would have followed him to apologize had she not then heard the sound of childish laughter. Hurrying through the green baize door at the end of the passage, she emerged into the dining room.
Though the laughter had stopped, she could hear Lady Genevieve speaking in the gentle, almost singing voice she used only for Addy. “Yes, very well, run and put on your bonnet and cloak. Don’t dawdle; the horses must not be kept standing. There is a wind.”
“Yes, Great, I’ll hurry!”
Lillian entered the hall just in time to see a tiny pair of feet, brushed by ankle-length frilled pantelettes, trip lightly up the staircase in the main hall. Lady Genevieve watched Addy run, an indulgent smile taking years from her face. Lillian could see the charming young woman she must have been. The illusion was added to by the modish carnage robe and wide-brimmed hat Lady Genevieve wore.
“Good morning. Lady Genevieve,” Lillian said. “Was that Addy who just went upstairs?”
As soon as she spoke, she saw the older woman’s back stiffen. Turning, Lady Genevieve held out her hand and said coldly, “Might I trouble you. Miss Cole, to fasten my glove?”
“Certainly.” Lillian slipped the loop over the smooth pearl button. “There you are.”
“I’m obliged to you.”
“If it was Addy,” Lillian pursued, “I have been looking for her. We ought to start our lessons today.”
“I’m afraid that is out of the question. I have long promised Addy a trip into Danbury.” The light blue eyes nicked over Lillian’s muslin dress. “It is the only town near the castle that has shops of any quality.”
“That must be most exciting for Addy.” Yet the conversation she’d overheard had seemed more like an indulgent great-grandparent giving in to the pleading of a beloved child, than the fulfillment of a long-held promise. “However, perhaps it would be better to delay this trip. A routine should be established from the first, or so . ..”
The older woman almost smiled. “How middle-aged you sound, Miss Cole. Surely, if I am of the opinion that this trip will be beneficial to the child, you will not argue with me.”
“I have no wish to argue with you, Lady Genevieve.”
Lady Genevieve might not have heard this capitulation, for she gave no sign of being pleased by it. “As you will have no duties here with Addy gone, perhaps it will not discommode you to look after her on the trip.” Once again. Lady Genevieve regarded the muslin dress, and Lillian could have sworn a faint shudder rippled through the older woman’s frame. “You yourself may find something suitable.”
Meaning, Lillian supposed, that what she had on was
not
suitable. Well, she thought with an inward laugh, no one could fault Lady Genevieve’s taste. Lillian’s clothing had been “borrowed” from Paulina’s own groom’s wife, castoffs of her former mistress. They were half a dozen years out of the style and hardly fit with exactitude. She wished she had a mind above clothes, but the thought of continuing to wear these dresses pained her.
“I should be delighted to watch over Addy,” Lillian said.
Looking up, she saw the little girl swinging down the steps hand in hand with her father. Thorpe grinned at something Addy said, and Lillian felt as though her heart suddenly reared up and then galloped off like a runaway horse. Her color came and went. She knew Lady Genevieve noticed. Lillian raised her chin and gave him a polite smile that she hoped revealed nothing further.
“Ah, Miss Cole!” Thorpe said, approaching. “This little temptress of mine has lured me away from estate business with talk of a venture into Danbury. Dare you to join us?”
“Miss Cole,” his grandmother said, “is coming along to look after Addy.”
The girl raised her eyes to Lillian.
“You’re
coming too?” she asked in a tone that left no doubt her pleasure was now spoilt.
“Yes,” Lillian answered evenly. “I too have some shopping.”
“Oh, yes,” said Thorpe. “The tiny valise and the wetting of yesterday! Have you anything at all left to wear?”
“Only one more dress, in addition to this one.” She pinched her skirt with thumb and forefinger and smiled into his eyes of spring leaf green.
“A disaster of the wardrobe,” he said. “It must be remedied at once! The whole economy of the nation depends on ladies buying more dresses, you know.”
“If Miss Cole will deign to find her cloak and hat, we shall be away,” Lady Genevieve said. “Come, Addy. Come, Thorpe. We shall await her pleasure in the carriage.”
Lillian rushed away, sternly admonishing herself not to respond to Thorpe Everard’s charm. It was only the prospect of shopping, a thing she’d not expected to do during these ten days of exile from her true self, that elated her. Thorpe Everard’s presence or absence must not be allowed to influence her emotions. Yet, when she approached the carriage and found she was to sit beside him during the journey, the rate of her pulse increased measurably.
“I still maintain Miss Cole should sit on the box beside Evans,” Lady Genevieve said as they drove away. “She may not like driving backward. I know it makes me bilious and Addy ill. Don’t you feel the motion more particularly sitting with your back to the driver, Miss Cole?”
This solicitousness, Lillian thought, sounded oddly like jealousy. “I am not troubled by it, Lady Genevieve.”
“How kind you are, Grandmother.” Thorpe winked at Lillian as though to say he’d known Lady Genevieve would take to her in time.
Unlike the town where Lillian had left the post yesterday, Danbury rejoiced in the possession of several inns, fine shops, and more than one street. As the carriage halted at the end of the street where the best of the shops hung out their signs, Thorpe opened the low door. Clapping his hat on his head, he stepped out and, turning, held up his arms for his daughter. Addy flung herself into them, squealing with pleasure as Thorpe swung her around in a complete circle before letting her down.
“Do it again, Papa,” she pleaded, though she must hold on to his leg to keep from swaying where she stood.
“Great-grandmother next,” he teased, holding out his hand to Lady Genevieve.
“If you dare get up to such monkey tricks with me—” the lady began breathlessly. But her grandson guided her down the several carriage steps with gentle care. Shaded by the brim of his hat, Thorpe’s sparkling eyes lifted past the short woman’s head to fix on Lillian’s face. One black eyebrow slid up.
She, leaning forward to wait her turn to exit, caught his gaze and shook her head sternly. Her body, however, remembered what it had been like to feel his hands about her waist, first when he’d helped her down from his curricle in front of the castle, and again in the water of the lake.
“Do it again,” Addy said, tugging at the smooth blue material of her father’s coat. With difficulty, Lillian managed not to echo the child’s request.
“Never a free moment,” he said to the air. With a grin, he lifted the child up, his hands under her arms, and swung her around, his boots sending up puffs of dust. Addy laughed and laughed, as her bonnet slipped off the pale hair to hang by its ribbon about her neck.
“Whew, enough,” Thorpe said, revolving to a slow stop and putting Addy’s feet on the ground. “I’m dizzy. How the street whirls! Come, Miss Cole, your arm or I shall bump into a wall.”
Lillian wanted very much to take his warm hand. If they’d been alone, perhaps she would have surrendered to this impulse. However, as Lady Genevieve’s wrinkled lips had pursed, as Addy’s childish giggles had subsided, and as idlers stood staring from open doors, Lillian said, “I’m certain Lady Genevieve would be happy to help you, sir.”
Bending low, she untied the ribbons and lifted off Addy’s bonnet. “Do you need help walking?” she whispered.
Addy shook her head and ran in giggling circles around her father. Tucking his grandmother’s hand into the crook of his arm, Thorpe pretended to lean heavily on her. “You’ve such a level head, my lady,” he said, “and I feel as though I’ve been drinking steadily half the night.”
“You’ve never been a toper,” she replied.
“Ah, one’s relations don’t know everything! There were some nights at Cambridge ... shall I whisper?” Lady Genevieve gave him a sharp push, though her fondness shone clearly in her eyes.
Lillian carried Addy’s small bonnet and Lady Genevieve’s shawl, enjoying the banter. Was there a soul on earth to whom Thorpe Everard would not show unrelenting kindness? Certainly, no one on the street was exempt.
Addy sighed and hung on her father’s hand, as it seemed every second gentleman and every single lady stopped to greet Thorpe. She rolled her eyes up to heaven as lady after lady made an excuse to loiter in her father’s presence.
“And, as I said, such a thing never should happen in a really well-regulated household! I know Phrylidia had something particular to say to him. Didn’t you, dearest?”
The middle-aged lady poked her tall, thin daughter in the ribs. The girl straightened up and snapped her mouth closed. Her hazel eyes, however, lingered on Thorpe, winding dreams mistily about him. “Quite, Mama.”
“Most interesting, most interesting,” Lady Genevieve said. “Now, Mrs. Winter, I know you’ll forgive us ...” Allowing her words to trail off, she urged Thorpe forward. Yet, even as she smiled at Mrs. Winter, Lady Genevieve’s eyes fixed on Lillian as though to challenge her with this vulgar display of calf love.
“Good day, ladies,” Thorpe said, touching the brim of his hat with two fingers. Lillian, coming along in his wake, clearly heard Phrylidia give a sigh that seemed to rise from the depths of her neat brown shoes. Even the girl’s mother seemed to forget for a moment that it was her daughter’s interest she pursued and not her own as she stared after Thorpe.
At last, the party from the castle reached the emporium Lady Genevieve wished to patronize. As was the custom, long banners of different fabrics covered the entrance, displaying the drape and pattern of the material as it would be shown in a gown, though one for an immensely tall woman. Addy enjoyed passing beneath this curtain, so much so that she repeated her entrance half a dozen times before Lady Genevieve called her to her side.
Looking up, the elderly lady said, “You will most likely not find anything to suit you here, Miss Cole. This shop will be too far above your touch.”
“No doubt.” The small bag that dangled from Lillian’s wrist contained some five sovereigns, more than sufficient for her wants during this expedition. At the castle, buried among her linen, another twenty-five coins were cached in her bureau drawer. While attiring herself in cloak and hat, Lillian had at first poured all her money into her reticule. But the way it bulged and jingled, she decided, looked most suspicious for a governess who made, ostensibly, no more than thirty pounds per year. However, she could and did smile, thinking of what reaction Lady Genevieve would have to those coins.
“A chair for my lady,” called the proprietor, placing a wooden chair before the counter. He bowed low to hear Addy’s whisper. Of course. Miss Everard. We have a box in the rear.”
“Babies,” Thorpe said in a low voice.
Lillian jumped. Without the new-style plate glass windows coming into fashion in London, the interior of the shop was as gloomy as a church on a rainy Monday. Hearing his murmuring voice out of this half light created unseemly disorder within her.
“I—I
beg your pardon?”
“Fashion babies. My grandmother looks at them to find out the latest mode, and then my daughter plays with them. They both enjoy themselves enormously.” He lowered his voice further, and Lillian held her breath as his warm whisper slipped along the shell-curve of her ear. “Mr. Fenniman’s wife makes up dresses. If I were you, Miss Cole, I don’t know if I’d trust the maids at the castle to perform adequately on my new clothes.”
“Indeed? You are most kind to warn me.” She tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes wide. A sudden insane impulse took her. She wanted to ask him exactly what Baroness Pritchard meant to him. Only her private vow to find out nothing about him kept her from asking, though her lips parted before she could stop them.