And at least Demon Draydale didn’t await.
She made herself move, and stepped down, welcoming Cate’s firm hand. He tucked her hand into his arm and led her toward the steps. “Welcome to Keynings, my dear.” He sounded at ease, but she could sense the tension ruling him.
Pandemonium.
She heard hooves and wheels, and twisted back to see the chaise departing. She felt as if her escape went with it.
“Welcome home, my lord.”
She turned back.
Cate said, “My dear, this is Flamborough, our house steward. My countess, Flamborough.”
The man bowed to her, expressionless. “My lady.”
“Come, let me show you our home.”
She knew he phrased it that way for the man’s ears.
They progressed into a spacious hall with gray walls and pillars. Along the side walls, blue niches held classical statues, some lacking most of their clothes. A number of servants hovered, but a woman came forward to greet them. She was of moderate height and build, dressed in deepest black, including a black cap on her smooth brown hair. The housekeeper? Mistress Ingleton?
“Welcome home, Malzard.” She turned to Prudence. “I’m Artemis, Lady Malzard.” She stared at Prudence’s cheek.
“Our carriage overturned,” Prudence said. “Thank you for the welcome . . .” There didn’t seem anything to say but, “Artemis.”
Artemis’s eyes slid away. “It’s no longer my place to welcome you to Keynings,
sister
, but I do so anyway.”
Was that a subtle correction? If so, was it well-meant or not?
Well-meant, surely.
Some of Prudence’s tension unwound. Her sister-in-law was cool, but she was willing to be called sister. She might be willing to advise and support, and perhaps even befriend in time. She began to smile, but realized it was inappropriate. “Please accept my condolences on your loss, sister.”
“Thank you,” Artemis said, but she was looking at Cate’s breeches, brows raised.
“I was wounded by glass in the carriage accident. I assume Perriam told you about that?”
“Briefly. Is your wound serious?”
“Not at all. Where’s Mother?”
“Lying down. She’s a little unwell.”
“I see.”
So, the Dowager Lady Malzard had heard the news and retreated to her room either in true distress, or simply to avoid having to meet her unwanted, unwelcome new daughter-in-law.
“Come, my dear,” Cate said. “I’ll take you to your rooms.”
“Perhaps,” said Artemis Malzard, “the senior servants could meet their new mistress?”
The overly patient tone made Prudence want to slap her, but she reminded herself that the marriage came as a shock to Artemis too, and probably did seem impetuous and irresponsible, especially within weeks of her husband’s death.
Prudence went to meet a grizzled-haired, dignified woman, who was the real housekeeper, and an overly plump man called Belshaw, the clerk of the kitchen. The role meant nothing to her, but she assumed he was in overall charge of food for the family and the servants. Ewing was the butler, and though thin, he had a redness to his nose that suggested he might be too fond of the wines he managed.
Ewing gave her a sharp, assessing look, but the others were politely impassive. She was sure they’d have plenty to say as soon as they were away from here, but she didn’t think she’d done or said anything to create pandemonium from the very beginning.
That ordeal over, Cate led her up heavy wooden stairs that were magnificent, but went oddly with the light, modern hall. She wouldn’t comment on that, but when they reached the turn halfway up, she saw that the stairs matched the paneled upper hallway.
An odd effect.
They walked a little way along the corridor, but then Artemis said, “You must want to change your clothes, Malzard. I’ll take your wife to her rooms.”
“Thank you,” he said, and to Prudence, “Do you mind?”
She suddenly hated the thought of separating from him, but that was childish. “Of course not. You need to have your wound seen to.”
“Indeed,” said Artemis. “You could have been killed.”
“Only by the worst of bad luck.”
“You took no hurt?” Artemis asked Prudence.
“Only bruises. And I had opportunity to change my clothes. My trunk follows. I apologize for not being in complete mourning, sister, but . . .” She trailed off because she couldn’t think quite how to quickly explain the circumstances.
“Something to be taken care of,” Cate said. “But this is also our wedding day.” He kissed Prudence’s hand and went into the room.
“This way,” Artemis said, and walked to the next door, stiff backed. This was a difficult situation for everyone, and Prudence couldn’t think how to make it better. Artemis Malzard seemed disposed to be kind, but this marriage could be hurting and offending her. Prudence truly regretted that.
“Your bedchamber,” Artemis said, opening it and going in. “With adjoining door, of course, to the earl’s bedchamber.”
“This is lovely,” Prudence said with complete honesty.
The walls were decorated with paintings of delicate branches of blossoms and brilliantly colored birds. It must be the Chinese wallpaper she’d heard of. The ceiling was a blue that suggested the summer sky, and that color was picked up in the draperies, and in parts of the thick carpet on the floor.
She turned to say something else complimentary, and found Artemis’s face pinched.
Lord above.
Until recently this must have been her bedchamber, perhaps decorated to her taste, from which a death had evicted her. Prudence wanted to apologize, even offer the room back, but that was impossible.
Instead, she offered condolences again. “I’m very sorry about your husband. . . .”
Stiffness shifted into tight disapproval. “We’ll have no lies between us in private, if you please. You must be glad of my husband’s death, as it enabled you and Catesby to wed.”
“What? No—”
“Don’t play me for a fool. He hardly had a penny before.”
“I know, but—”
“And he’s married you in indecent haste.” Artemis began to pace, as if caged. “You must have been pining for years. If, indeed, you waited to satisfy your lust.”
Prudence gasped with shock.
Artemis whirled to face her. “He’s
always
wanted Keynings. I’ve known it. I know he rejoiced—
rejoiced!
—at the death of my son.”
“I’m sure he didn’t.”
“We’ll have the matter plain. Your husband murdered mine, and if there’s any justice in the world, whatever wound he has will fester and kill him.”
Prudence’s legs failed her and she collapsed onto the bench at the end of the bed. “How can you say such a thing?”
Artemis studied her, still looking unbelievably sane. “Is it possible that he’s deceived you?”
“I know him. I know your notions are impossible.”
“Notions? Ask him. He can’t deny coming here in disgrace, so that my poor husband felt the weight of it crushing our family reputation. . . .”
Disgrace?
“Nor can he deny generating a raging dispute that caused my husband’s seizure of the brain.”
“Please, Artemis—”
“You do not have permission to use my name!”
Dry mouthed, Prudence tried to speak soothingly. “Lady Malzard, what you think can’t be true. If you know Cate at all, you must know he’s incapable of such coldhearted wickedness.”
The other woman laughed without humor. “It’s you who doesn’t know him. My husband understood his brother for what he is—shiftless, reckless, a disaster at all he attempts. I fear you’ll learn his shortcomings to your own cost. If you haven’t already.”
She was looking at Prudence’s bruised face.
“Cate did not cause this bruise,” Prudence said.
Artemis shrugged, and then turned briskly toward a door and opened it. “You have a boudoir through here.” She didn’t go in. She walked a few steps and opened another. “And a dressing room here. It’s unfortunately small. We had talked of enlarging it. . . .” She went stiff and silent, but then collected herself. “Do you have a maid?”
“No.”
“I’ll send one to attend you.” She looked around, still neat to the last inch, then left, closing the door with a quiet, firm
click
.
Chapter 23
P
rudence remained where she was, hugging herself as if cold.
Two-faced. Sweet in company, acid in private.
But no, that wasn’t quite fair. Artemis had never been sweet, and she was the sort of lady who would never create a disturbance in front of servants. She probably believed everything she’d said about Cate.
She was wrong, however. Wrong.
Cate could never have rejoiced at the death of a child, or plotted to kill his brother. Prudence knew that in her heart, but her brain warned that Artemis was right in one thing—Prudence didn’t know her husband well at all. All very well for Cate to say their acquaintance had been deep, but it was still very, very short.
What disgrace had he brought here? He’d said something as they’d drawn close to this place.
Why had he and his brother argued so violently? Perhaps a raging argument could cause a seizure of the brain, but surely no one could design such a thing. Certainly not Cate. His flaw was hot impulse, not cold cunning.
Yet . . . he’d confessed how much he’d always wanted Keynings.
She sighed and rolled her head back, trying to release painful tension.
Pandemonium, indeed. Not only from devilish expectations, but from dark suspicions.
She wanted to run to Cate and put all this before him, but he clearly didn’t know of his sister-in-law’s hatred. She’d keep it from him if she could. She had to consider, however, whether Artemis was capable of doing him harm.
She didn’t think it would go beyond ill wishing. After all, if Artemis had wanted to poison him, she’d had weeks to try. Prudence prayed that she’d leave Keynings now that a new countess was in place.
After a tap, the main door opened and a maidservant came in. She was young, round cheeked, and nervous. She was also poorly dressed in contrast to the smart livery of the footmen. Her gown was a shapeless black, mostly covered by a coarse white apron. Cap and stockings were black, of course, but the stockings sagged around her ankles and the cap looked too large. If her clothes were normal for maidservants at Keynings, that would have to change.
She was carrying a large jug of hot water and almost spilled some as she dipped a nervous curtsy. “I’m Karen, yer ladyship. Sent with water, yer ladyship. And to ’elp you.”
What had Artemis said to make the maid so ill at ease? That the new countess would be a harsh mistress?
Prudence smiled as she rose. “Thank you, Karen. That’s an unusual name.”
“Karenhappuch, yer ladyship. It’s in the Bible.”
“Truly? Where?” Prudence needed ordinary conversation. The maid was simply standing there, however, so she prompted, “Pour the water, please.”
Karen hurried to fill the china bowl. “The Book of Job, yer ladyship. Karenhappuch was one of ’is daughters, yer ladyship, born after ’is woes were over. The vicar says as it should be Kerenhappuch, yer ladyship, but I’ve been Karen all me life.”
Prudence realized she still wore her hat and unpinned it. Perhaps that would ease her growing headache. The stream of “your ladyships” was adding to it. Was it essential? Even if so, she’d have an end to it here.
“Please address me as milady, Karen,” she said, passing the hat to the maid. She went to the washstand, but then looked around. “Is there soap?”
“Oh, yes, yer ladyship! I mean, milady.” The maid put the hat on the bed and dug in a pocket. She took out a china pot and hurried to put it by the basin.
Prudence thanked her again, but she was realizing that Karen was unskilled. Doubtless the dowager and Artemis both had highly trained lady’s maids, but neither had been sent to assist her.
As she washed her hands, she said, “What are your usual duties, Karen?”
“I’m one of the under housemaids, yer . . . milady.”
The young maid was an insult.
As Prudence washed her face she pondered what to do about it. Cate had warned her not to tolerate impudence from the servants. He’d said nothing about malice from his family. She could demand another maid, but this poor girl might then feel that she’d offended. If she did nothing, the whole household would snigger at Prudence as being either too ill-bred to know better, or too cowardly to demand her due. She longed for Cate’s advice, but household matters were her responsibility and she must stand on her own feet.
She dried her face and turned. “I shall hire a lady’s maid soon, Karen, but you will do very well as my maid for the next little while.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Be yer
maid
, milady?”
“Is that not what you are at this moment?”
“I . . . I were just sent with the water, milady, and to’elp if you wanted anything.”
Prudence had a sinking feeling that she’d made a mistake, but she wouldn’t retreat now. “That’s part of being my maid. Whoever sent you must have thought you capable, so the position is yours pro tem.”
“Pro tem, milady?”
“For the moment. Only for the moment, for you don’t have the necessary skills, but for a few days you will be my maid.” She suddenly realized the implications. No wonder the girl looked dazzled. “And will have the appropriate pay. For the few days when you’re filling the post.”
“Yes, milady! What do you want now, milady?”
To see Cate!
But she couldn’t run to him with every little thing.
“Tea,” Prudence said, wishing she could demand brandy with it.
The girl curtsied and hurried away.
Prudence rubbed her hands over her face, smelling the sweet perfume of the fine soap. At least that hadn’t been skimped, and the linen towels were the finest she’d ever handled.