Corey McFadden (9 page)

“I would much rather sup alone in my office, Eleanor,” he answered, taking the glass from her.

“As you can see, I am handicapped by my accident and eating will be difficult enough as is.”

“Oh, yes, your poor arm, darling. Pity the cart didn’t come crashing down on your head. Then we’d have been quit of one another.” She laughed merrily and accepted the full snifter he proffered. “Nevertheless, you must join us, brother. I’ll cut your meat for you, like the good sister that I am. And anyway, if you’re not there we’ll have nothing to talk about except you, will we, Miss... ?” she turned to Joanna with her brittle smile. “Let’s see, it’s sort of a workman’s name isn’t it? You know, a Middle Ages sort of name when all the working people were called for their skills....”

“Carpenter, Eleanor. Her name is Miss Carpenter,” Giles snapped. “And perhaps she, too, would prefer eating alone to your company.”

“Silly boy. She’d love to eat with us, wouldn’t you, Miss Carpenter?” There was just enough of an emphasis on her last name to let Joanna know her family background had been thoroughly examined and discarded as socially worthless.

Swallowing her anger, Joanna put what she hoped was a pleasant look on her face. No, she didn’t want to eat with either of them, but she also knew she was trapped.

“I shall be delighted, Lady Eleanor,” she said, horrified to hear herself give a slight emphasis to the ‘lady’. She looked up as Giles approached her and was surprised to see a look of amusement flare in his eyes at her words. They were brown eyes, she noticed, and rather nice when not icy with anger. Silently, he took her glass.

“Oh, thank you, Sir Giles, but I think I’ve had enough sherry. I’m not really used to drinking spirits.”

“How quaint, dear,” Eleanor said, draining her glass. “What on earth do you do for entertainment?”

There was a light tap at the door and Mrs. Davies entered. A hint of confusion showed in the woman’s face as she surveyed the group, but she quickly schooled her expression into a bland calm.

“You wished to see me, Lady Eleanor?” the housekeeper asked.

“Indeed, Mrs. Davies. Please set an extra place at the table this evening. Miss Carpenter will be supping with us. Cook can manage to give us a decent meal, I suppose?”

“I am sure we will be able to serve something satisfactory, Lady Eleanor. I shall go and see to it at once. If that will be all?” she said uncertainly then turned away when Eleanor, wandering back to the decanter, gave her an absent nod.

Joanna, standing near the door, caught a brief look from Mrs. Davies. Was it fear or sympathy? Or both?

“Would you care to change into something more suitable for supper, Miss Carpenter? I’m sure we have half an hour or so before it is served,” Eleanor said casually, pouring herself a liberal portion.

Joanna could feel her face flaming. Surely the woman must know that a governess did not arrive with a wardrobe suitable for a London season.

“She looks fine as she is, Eleanor,” snarled Giles. “In fact, why don’t you change? You look absurd in that fancy getup.”

“Oh, don’t you just loathe the country, dear?” Eleanor tossed the question to Joanna. “Here we are in the middle of nowhere, and it’s not even considered fashionable to dress. Of course, we also keep to the most ridiculous of country schedules. Why, in town we would just be finishing our dinner by now and supper wouldn’t be for many hours yet.” Eleanor stood beneath the odalisque, and Joanna had the oddest feeling that of the two, the woman on canvas was the more respectable.

“I prefer this schedule, Lady Eleanor.” Joanna found herself inclined to contradict the woman and be damned to the consequences. “It’s more suitable for the children.”

“Ah, yes, the children,” purred Eleanor. “I don’t know how you can stand being around children all day long. I would go mad if I were forced to work as a governess. You will keep them quiet, won’t you, dear? I can’t bear their noise.” Her lips were smiling but her eyes were icy. There was a cruel nonchalance about her that cut deeper than her words. No wonder the children were so frightened and silent in this house.

Joanna looked away to hide the anger she knew must show in her eyes, and encountered the amused, approving gaze of Sir Giles. His mouth quirked up on one side in the barest hint of a smile. She found herself thinking that he was rather handsome, in spite of the gash along his mouth, and she allowed just a ghost of an answering smile. It was good to feel that she had one ally, however tenuous, in this room.

“Well, I believe I will freshen up,” Eleanor said, placing her glass down on a table. “Coming, Miss Carpenter?” It seemed more a command than a request. Joanna dropped a curtsey to Sir Giles and followed Lady Eleanor from the room.

Outside in the gloom of the hallway, it was as if the curtain had fallen and they were now off stage.

Eleanor said not one word to Joanna, nor, in fact, did the woman so much as glance over her shoulder to note that Joanna was behind her. Eleanor moved into the hallway on the second landing, and Joanna made her way up to the third floor, wondering what she would do with herself in the half hour before supper. She certainly had nothing better to change into, and she had done all the freshening up she cared to do before coming down. Well, perhaps she had time to make a quick sketch of Lady Eleanor from memory. There was that something about the woman’s face, something sharp and a bit cruel, and the artist in Joanna just itched to see if it could be captured.

Chapter Five

Three-quarters of an hour later, after a timid tap on her door from Annie, Joanna entered the dining room and found herself alone in the grand chamber. She glanced about her and was once again overwhelmed by the sheer elegance of her surroundings. It was not as brightly lit as the drawing room had been, but she was relieved that she could see by the light of the candles in the sconces on the walls and a rather elaborate candelabrum. The room was spacious, in spite of the long, polished mahogany table that dominated the center. The table was surrounded by such a number of chairs that Joanna knew she’d have to make a surreptitious count just to satisfy her curiosity. Not even Squire’s table could seat so many, not by half at least. Around the walls of the room were set several elaborate sideboards, each one exquisitely carved in dark, rich mahogany. The walls were painted in a creamy beige, broken by panels of molding in a darker color. There were several large paintings of rolling pastoral landscapes—local, perhaps, Joanna couldn’t tell—and a life-sized painting of a rather scantily draped, voluptuous Venus, attended by a number of pink-bottomed cherubs, that brought a blush to Joanna’s cheeks. In the corner by the door to the hallway, a tall, carved stand held a delicate, ever-so-naked winged cupid, poised on one foot as if about to lift off in flight. This recurring motif was an odd theme, she thought, for such a loveless, cold house.

Joanna moved over to stand by the sideboard where several silver chafing dishes steamed invitingly. A corner of the long dining table was set for three, she noticed. At least they would not be shouting at each other up and down the length of it all through the meal.

“This is a rather grandiose room for only three of us to have our supper in, wouldn’t you say, Miss Carpenter?” said a voice behind her.

Joanna turned and found Sir Giles standing in the doorway. Again, he seemed distant, staring down at her with eyes that were unreadable, and Joanna felt her heart sink. This would be a long meal, indeed, if she had two enemies to contend with. She offered him a pleasant smile and a good evening.

Giles stood quietly, reluctant to enter. He had spent the last three-quarters of an hour berating himself for giving into Eleanor’s petty demand that he sup with her and the governess. He still did not know what had possessed him to agree—years ago he had learned how to sidestep his stepsister’s manipulations—yet the thought of allowing young Miss Carpenter to sup alone with his harpy of a sister had made him ill at ease, enough that he had found himself accepting the loathsome invitation in spite of himself.

Now he was here with the girl. She was smiling up at him with that winsome, innocent expression he had loved so dearly in his faithless wife. He found it hard not to stare. In the last half hour he had told himself that she indeed looked nothing like Violet, that it was a mere trick of the light and the similarity in their coloring. Indeed, he had convinced himself that she had been a rather plain-looking thing, that her comely appearance had been rather a question of favorable comparison with Eleanor. But here, with no Eleanor to enrage him, and in the gentle light of the many candles, he could see that hers was a real beauty, a gift of nature and good health; it was a matter of soap and water and fresh air. Candlelight danced in her brown hair, clean and unpowdered, which she wore caught up in the back, curls escaping their pins. It framed a very nice face that showed not a trace of paint or artifice. She had a tip-tilted nose and a generous mouth, a natural, healthy shade of pink. He already knew it was a very pretty mouth when she smiled. Her eyes were large and a rich brown, but at the moment shadowed with deep apprehension. She smelled of a lightly scented soap and clean, pressed cotton, utterly fresh. And her plain dark green silk dress was simple and becomingly modest. It had been a long time since he had seen a female who looked like this. Indeed, the resemblance to Violet was a passing thing, already fading in his mind as Joanna’s face replaced the one dark in his memory.

“It is a very beautiful room, Sir Giles. I am not used to such large rooms. Our vicarage was quite tiny compared to this house.”

Vicarage? Oh, yes, she had said her father was a vicar. He tried to collect his thoughts.

“It’s too big. Eleanor insisted that we buy the house because Mary, Queen of Scots is supposed to have stayed here at some time during her reign. Hence, the appellation. Although, if Mary, Queen of Scots slept everywhere she is alleged to have slept, she must not have ever slept at home. It is absurd for the two of us to live in a house this large. Although,” he added, “I suppose it’s really four of us now, with the children.”

The doors were flung open and in sailed Lady Eleanor. If Joanna had expected the woman to tone down her attire for a simple country supper, she was much mistaken. Instead, Lady Eleanor was, if anything, even more elaborately done up than she had been earlier. She appeared to be wearing a different wig; this one had jewelry twined through it. And her bright yellow silk dress was remarkable. Joanna found her eyes traveling down a long expanse of heavily whitened chest, and she was quite sure, before she lifted her gaze in alarm, that the tops of Eleanor’s nipples were peeking from the edge of the décolletage.

Joanna felt just a light touch on her arm as Giles led her to the table and pulled out her chair for her. Eleanor seated herself as he walked over to the bell pull and gave it a quick tug, then he sat himself at the head of the table.

“Pour us all some wine, brother, dear. We can’t all sit around like ninnies waiting for the servants to do it. Would you care for some wine, Miss Carpenter? A little wine with meals is considered civilized behavior in higher circles.”

“Yes, thank you, Lady Eleanor,” Joanna answered evenly, refusing to allow the woman to bait her.

As Giles poured the chilled white wine into the heavy cut crystal glasses, the side door opened and three servants paraded in, bearing trays. Joanna was startled to see that the men wore livery. She hadn’t seen anyone in livery until now and had assumed that this far out in the country things were somewhat more relaxed. Even Squire’s staff only bothered with livery when there were fancy guests about.

“You know, Giles, the girl has a startling resemblance to Violet, don’t you think? I think it’s that pretty, pouty little mouth. And all those masses of dark hair. Tell me, dear, haven’t you a decent wig to your name? Absolutely no one goes about in her own hair these days. It simply isn’t done. And I must say, Violet wouldn’t have been caught dead in that terribly sweet little dress. It positively screams ‘governess’, dear, and its fashionable days are ancient history. What do you think, Giles? Have we another Violet on our hands? What fun that would be around this dreary old house!”

“Leave off, Eleanor,” growled Giles. “Miss Carpenter is nothing at all like my late wife. And, by the way, Miss Carpenter,” he said, turning toward her, his face a mask, “your attire and style are entirely suitable.”

Joanna supposed he meant it kindly—suitable for her station in life. Then why did his remark make her feel as if she were a stout forty-year-old wearing something too dowdy for words?

The only noise in the room came now from the discreet rattling of china and muffled clangs of the steaming silver serving dishes. Joanna concentrated on serving herself from the various dishes that were presented to her. Although she had met and exchanged pleasantries with all three of the servants in the room, there was not so much as a flicker of recognition from any of them as they served her. They were stiff with duty, and Joanna could hardly believe that young Bessie and Mick, whom she’d seen saucing each other so merrily in the kitchen at noon, were the same two standing at rigid attention beside the table now.

She helped herself from the new dish put in front of her. It appeared to be some sort of pureed, puffed-up green stuff. Papa’s taste and their budget had inclined them toward simple fare, and she did not consider herself particularly adventurous where food was concerned. At least the poached fish looked innocuous, although it swam in some sort of questionable cream sauce, and if those were potatoes, one couldn’t tell it by the looks of them.

“You’ll have to forgive my stepbrother, Miss Carpenter. He has been an absolute beast since Violet died. Cannot bear to have her name mentioned. I am sure he blames himself for her death....”

“Eleanor, that will do!” Giles slammed his stemmed wineglass down so hard Joanna was surprised it did not break.

“See how sensitive he is about it, dear? We’ll have to have a little heart-to-heart talk about it when he’s not around to be beastly to us.” Without waiting for the servants to finish serving Giles, Eleanor picked up her fork and began eating.