The Other Countess (19 page)

‘I understand – really I do. I’m sorry to stride off like that. It’s not my place to make you even think that you are doing something I don’t approve of.’

Jane threw her daisy chain at her. ‘Oh, hush up, Ellie. You and I both know that’s not so. Out of character for me it may be, but I care what you think – what you feel.’

Ellie managed a smile, resigning herself to something she could not change. The world had set her on one course, Jane on another. ‘Thank you … Prudence.’

Jane half laughed, half growled. ‘
Prudence!
Couldn’t you come up with something better than that? I vowed I’d get you for that, Lady Eleanor. Prepare for death by flowers!’

She chucked a handful of hedgerow weeds at Ellie, who responded in kind. The May-flower crown hit Jane in the face as grass caught in Ellie’s hair.

‘You look like a dog with mange,’ mocked Jane, then she shrieked as her opponent managed to stuff a handful of leaves down her neck. Their hilarity grew as they pelted each other with weeds. They only stopped when Diego approached them cautiously, leading Jane’s horse.

‘Is all well, O most gracious and most gentle ladies?’ he
asked, then looked bewildered when both collapsed into each other’s arms, breathless with laughter.

‘Oh, yes, Diego, we’re well,’ gasped Ellie.

‘Just perfect,’ agreed Jane.

14

Ellie checked her reflection in the little polished mirror for what felt the hundredth time. She had cleaned her green gown, borrowed Dame Holton’s ancient wedding stomacher of cream and gold thread, and made herself a pair of new sleeves from another cast-off of the dame’s. The string of seed pearls around her neck also belonged to her hostess, but they had the unfortunate effect of making her old ruff look very dim by contrast. There was nothing she could do about that at this late stage. She knew she was going to be outshone by the ladies at Lacey Hall, but at least she wasn’t an absolute disgrace.

A knock at the door downstairs announced the arrival of Diego with a horse for her. Taking a deep breath, she dipped into her father’s study.

‘I’m off now, Father.’

‘Hmm? Where to?’ He looked up distractedly from his pile of books.

‘Lacey Hall. I’m dining with the family.’

‘Oh yes, you did tell me. Enjoy yourself.’ His eyes were already directed back to the last line he had written.

Ellie knew better than to seek his opinion about her appearance, so she instead called in on Dame Holton.
She caught her hostess and Master March at prayer in the parlour.

‘Oh, excuse me,’ she said, seeing them both on their knees. She had suspected March was of the same creed as Dame Holton, but had preferred not coming face-to-face with the proof.

‘Why, Ellie, you look lovely,’ the dame commented, not at all abashed to be found in such a humble position. She crossed herself and rose, cupping Ellie’s face gently in her fingers. ‘Hold your head high, young lady. You need not be ashamed of how you look today.’

It took Ellie a while to coax Diego into talking to her as they rode to Lacey Hall. She knew from his banter with his master that he had a lively mind, but he was wary of showing it to an outsider. Yet he was one of the most interesting characters Ellie had ever met, so different from everyone else, not just in appearance but experience, and she had been impressed that he had willingly colluded with Jane the night before.

‘Have you been in England long, Diego?’ she asked.

‘Not that long, mistress.’

‘Do you remember your homeland?’

‘Yes.’

Ellie would’ve laughed at his skill at giving minimal and uninformative answers if she had not feared to offend him.

‘I’ve read of the deserts of North Africa in works of the ancient travellers. Is it true you can journey for days without sight of water?’

‘Yes.’

‘And that the land is made entirely of sand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you miss it?’

‘Yes.’

She would have to try another tack. ‘What do you miss most?’

Diego cast a searching look at her. ‘Why are you so interested in a poor servant, O beauteous Queen of May?’

That did make her laugh. The wretch had been spying on them! ‘Do you address the earl like that, Diego, with flourishing titles?’

He couldn’t hide a smile. ‘Yes, O kindly one.’

‘I wager he loves it.’ She chuckled at the thought of Will being heaped with such flowery epithets.

‘He is uncomfortable with the praise, mistress, even though it is most deserved. He is a very generous master.’

‘Which are your favourites?’

By teasing questions, she managed to draw out of him how he went about making Will squirm with embarrassment, though neither stated that that was what he was doing.

‘And his brother James, does he groan under the weight of redundant titles?’

Diego shook his head. ‘Oh no, most bounteous and benevolent mistress, Master James would not allow it.’

‘Meaning the earl and I are both too soft-hearted to put a stop to it? You’ve obviously not seen my lord in a temper.’

‘Not yet,’ grinned Diego.

A servant waited for her at the door of Lacey Hall carrying a hand basin and comb so she could put herself to rights after the brisk ride from the village. Ellie frowned at her reflection in the large looking glass flanked by statues of nymphs – she looked every inch the poor relation, from mismatched clothing to dowdy ruff.

‘Are the ladies’ dresses very magnificent?’ she asked the servant.

‘Yes, my lady,’ the girl stated baldly, her expression just a shade mocking.

Ellie shrugged. ‘Oh well, I was never going to prevail in this competition, was I? They asked me to dine so they get me, warts and all.’

‘I can’t see any warts, my lady,’ quipped the girl pertly.

Ellie was startled into a bubble of laughter. ‘Thank you, I think.’ She tapped her empty pocket. ‘I’m afraid I have nothing to tip you for your compliment, um, …?’

‘Nell, my lady. I serve the Lady Jane.’

‘Nell.’ She tweaked her cap straight. ‘Oh well, I’ll have to do.’

The steward came out of a nearby doorway, giving Ellie an unpleasant surprise. It was the same man who had threatened her with his wolfhound four years ago and he looked far from pleased to see her today.

‘Lady Eleanor,’ he said gruffly, giving her an abbreviated bow.

Ellie knew she should be feeling triumphant, being invited back as a guest of honour after her ignominious departure, but she couldn’t quell the fear she felt around this big man with rough ginger hair and hard eyes. ‘Master Steward.’

‘I have been ordered to conduct you to the countess’s glasshouse. The ladies are inspecting her flowers.’ His tone made plain it was only orders that forced him to let her set foot again on his territory.

‘Thank you,’ Ellie said faintly. She cast a helpless look at the maid, only to find the girl had undergone a complete transformation. No longer the witty servant with a sharp tongue, she had her eyes trained meekly on the floor.

‘Mistress Rivers, Sir Henry asks if you can attend him. There is some matter to do with a lost glove he wishes to
discuss.’ The steward’s manner to the girl was cringingly respectful.

‘At once, Master Turville.’ Bestowing on him a sweet smile, the maid darted away.

‘Lady Eleanor, if you would follow me.’ The steward swept his hand in the direction of the garden at the rear of the house. He kept a step ahead of her, opening doors and ushering her through, but she felt more like a bad smell he wished to expel from the house than a person of worth. His attitude raised her hackles.

‘And how have your fared since last we met, Master Steward?’ she asked brightly, forcibly reminding him of their last unpleasant encounter. ‘You look as though you’ve been very comfortable in your position.’ Overfed was closer to the mark.

‘The earl is a very good master,’ he said stiffly.

‘And is your dog still alive – that charming brute you introduced me to?’

‘No, lady, Bart died some years back.’

‘Can’t say I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘But his son, Tiber, is more than a match for his sire. Quite able to chase a man down should I give the word.’

‘How delightful.’

He stopped in the door leading to the garden, barring her exit. ‘I know I shouldn’t say this to you, you being here as a guest and all, but if you harm my master, you’ll be facing more than Tiber.’

Ellie gave a strangled laugh, her fingers touching her throat. ‘Me? What possible harm can I do him?’

Turville glared at her. ‘He’s got this pretty young lady here
to woo and wed. We don’t want no interference from alchemist’s brats.’

She took a step back. ‘You are rude, sir.’

He waved a dismissive hand at her. ‘You and I both know your family is poison to mine. I protect those I serve. There’s more than one obsession that can make a man act a fool. Behave yourself and you and I will have no quarrel.’

He thought the earl in danger of contracting an obsession for her? They’d reached a truce, that was true, and Will had admitted he admired her, but she doubted he meant more than to flirt with her. She wasn’t sure she could say the same about herself.

‘I’m here because I was invited, Master Steward, not because I forced myself upon the family. Who are you to question the will of the earl?’

‘His good friend and protector. I don’t need his permission to watch his back for him. Now get along with you and behave yourself with the ladies. Don’t forget: I’m watching you.’

Outraged by the man’s unmannerly treatment of her, she flounced past him, wishing she had some cutting remark to prick his pompous hide, but just at the moment, nothing came to mind.

‘Vile wretch,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Lump of lard on legs.’ Pleased with that image, her lips curled in a smile. She tried an improvement. ‘Rancid rotund lump of lard on legs.’ Perfect.

‘Lady Eleanor!’ the countess emerged from the shrubbery where she had been showing Jane the newly planted border by the glasshouse.

Wonderful: she’d been caught mumbling insults to herself like an inmate of the madhouse.

‘My lady.’ She swept a deep curtsy.

‘To whom were you talking, dear?’ The countess’s eyes twinkled and Ellie just knew that she had been overheard.

‘Um, no one?’ she ventured.

‘Did someone vex you?’

Yes. ‘No, my lady. I was just … just repeating a rhyme I heard the other day.’

‘You like poetry, do you? We must read some together then. I confess to a passion for it that none of my boys admit to sharing, though I do so want to suspect them of being closet admirers of a finely turned sonnet.’ She sighed. ‘At least I hope they are or I have raised three barbarians.’

Jane came forward and kissed Ellie on the cheek. ‘Lady Eleanor.’

Ellie smiled at the deliberate formality after the flower-battle the night before. ‘Please, Lady Jane, my title is little used at home, and means nothing outside Spain. I much prefer to be called Ellie by my friends.’

‘I hope your eagerness at meeting your friend, Lady Jane, does not mean you’ve tired of us already?’ The countess beckoned her daughter to her side and tugged her coif straight. ‘This is Lady Sarah, my youngest.’

Sarah took a quick inventory of Ellie’s clothes, as sharp as any dressmaker. ‘I like your stomacher,’ she said. Meant as a pleasant remark it came across more as a criticism of the rest of Ellie’s clothes.

Ellie leant forward confidentially. ‘Not mine, Lady Sarah. Borrowed from the wedding finery of my kind hostess.’

‘Dame Holton? Must be ancient then. Why aren’t you wearing your own?’

‘Sarah!’ the countess warned.

‘It’s all right, my lady, I’m not embarrassed. I have no fine clothes, Lady Sarah, because I’m poor.’

‘So are we,’ said Sarah, nodding in understanding. ‘But Will always manages to find a few pounds here and there for our clothes, doesn’t he, Mother?’

Rendered speechless, the countess looked quite mortified by her daughter’s indiscreet tongue.

‘Jane’s the only one here with any money and she has a splendid wardrobe – you should see it! I spent yesterday just admiring her shoes. She’s got a pair of suede riding boots I would die to own.’

Jane shifted uneasily. ‘Lady Sarah, Ellie and I long ago agreed that clothes were empty extravagances.’

Sarah jumped on a stone bench, pretending to parade in a fine dress like a lady at court. ‘That’s all right for you to say, you’ve a king’s ransom in clothes in your trunks.’

The countess had now found her tongue again. ‘Ladies, I apologize for my daughter. I obviously have been too sparing with the rod.’

Sarah snorted. ‘Pish! I’m just speaking the truth.’

‘But not all truths should be spoken,’ the countess said severely.

Ellie laughed at this by-play. She thought the little lady quite splendid and likely to turn Will’s hair prematurely grey.

‘Lady Sarah, will you do this poor guest the honour of showing me your favourite parts of the garden?’

‘Oh yes, please! Race you?’ Sarah had obviously sensed a fellow partner for her mischief.

‘Sarah!’ her mother scolded. ‘Lady Eleanor is too old for such horseplay!’

Was she? Ellie didn’t feel so when the sun was shining and she had the prospect of a good meal ahead. She was only sixteen, not sixty …

‘Where to?’ she asked.

‘Sundial.’ Sarah pointed to the end of a hedge-lined aisle. ‘Marks, set, go!’ She shot off the bench, hair flying out from beneath her coif like a golden flag. With a smile at the countess and Jane, Ellie set out in pursuit, lifting her skirts above her ankles to stand a chance of catching her. ‘Come on, Jane!’ she called. ‘I dare you!’

‘Madam?’ Jane asked the countess, holding out her hand, her face brightened by a carefree smile.

Lady Dorset laughed. ‘Oh, very well, you hoydens!’ She took Jane’s hand and ran as fast as her heavy gown would allow. ‘Curse upon farthingales! I really need to shed a few layers if I’m going to do this!’

Ellie let Sarah reach the sundial first, then grabbed her hands to dance her round it, humming one of the tunes the fiddler had played for the maypole. Sarah squealed as Ellie spun her and then both let go and tumbled to the ground, giggling.