by Locke, Laura
Cornelia put her head to one side. “I don't know,” she sighed. It was difficult to explain. She couldn't very well say that what Richmond did – how he spoke to her, how he made her feel – did not feel like how Francis made her feel! Lady Alexandra would only laugh: and besides, she didn't want to tell Lady Alexandra about Francis. It felt wrong.
“There you go!” Alexandra clapped her hands. “The reason you don't know is because it's clearly obvious the poor boy's wild. Silly thing,” she added chidingly. She laughed again and this time Cornelia made herself give an uneasy laugh.
Why would Richmond think that way about me? She was a countryside nonentity, according to Alexandra and her maid. And according to Lady Marckel, and Lady Marckel's whole salon too! Defiance mixed with confusion inside her. If that was what she really was, Richmond would have to look elsewhere, wouldn't he? She bit her lip and considered a reply.
“Well, if that is really his reason, then I suppose I can't be cross with him, can I?”
“Well, no, dear.” Lady Alexandra smiled, her dark eyes warm with amusement. “You cannot.”
Cornelia looked at her hands, gathering her thoughts. Whatever was going on here, it made no sense to her. Why would Richmond suddenly have fallen passionately in love with her? And why was how he treated her yesterday any indication of love? It hadn't felt loving to her, but possessive and cruel.
“Lady Alexandra, I...” she paused. “I wanted to ask why you are so kind to me. Really.”
Alexandra gave her soft laugh. “Oh, my dear Cornelia. I told you. I want to help you. And besides – since Richmond is so besotted, what can I do?” she shrugged. “I am his sister, and must assist him in such things. Which brings me to another point – the real reason I invited you today.”
“Oh?” Cornelia raised a brow inquiringly. The real reason had been to apologize to her, at least as far as she was concerned. Lady Alexandra had done that. So what more reason was there?
“I wanted to invite you to stay. No, don't look at me like that,” Alexandra said, flapping a hand at Cornelia, whose mouth had fallen open. “I mean it. I want companionship. I trust you. Richmond is so often away and I rattle around in this house with no friends to speak to.”
“I would have thought you had better friends than I, my lady,” Cornelia said tersely.
Alexandra blinked. She looked hurt. “Oh, Cornelia. Don't snap, please. I know Richmond vexed you badly, but I am not my brother. Do you have to make me tell you how rare it is to find trustworthy friends here in London? You are an English rose, innocent and trusting. I trust you.”
Cornelia looked at her stonily. At this moment, she wasn't sure she believed anything Alexandra said. She had manipulated her, fooled her: why should she trust her now? “You say you trust me. But how do I know that?”
Alexandra laughed. “Oh, my! We have vexed you, have we not. I see. Well, if I did not trust you, would I have confided in you as I have? I have told you so much about myself, even things I am not proud of, like my envy of your innocence. And of Richmond's love.”
“That is true,” Cornelia allowed. She thought about it. Alexandra had been very candid with her in the past. And she was certainly helpful – she had given her a whole gown without her asking for anything. Taken hours giving her lessons. Had her own maid do her hair. “I want to believe you, Alexandra.”
“Well, do believe me. You will see. Your trust in me will work out amply well for all of us.”
“I hope so.”
Cornelia sighed. She closed her eyes to give herself a moment's peace. If she was looking at Alexandra, seeing her sorrowful expression, she would give in regardless of her misapprehensions.
If I stayed here, I might be happier. I could learn to be a society lady, release Lucas from the need to escort me everywhere. And I would more or less agree to being courted by her brother, which might be no bad thing.
Even though Richmond did scare her a little, she was also interested by him. And Francis...he was somewhere out of town and no prospect for her, however big her feelings about him were becoming.
“What do you say?” Alexandra asked. “Will you stay with me? Just for a week?”
“Yes.” Cornelia said it with her eyes shut, then opened them to look at Alexandra. “Yes, I will.”
The woman smiled at her, a sweet smile that seemed relieved. Cornelia breathed out heavily.
“Well!” Alexandra exclaimed. “If that's your reply, then I must summon Allanson and ask her to make up your bed.”
“Thank you,” Cornelia said. “I could move here tomorrow?” That would be easiest, and take the burden of my presence off Lucas' shoulders.
“You could move in now,” Alexandra said with her soft laugh. “I had hoped for you to visit tonight. We plan to have a small dinner here. Nothing big, don't worry. Me, you, my brother, two or three of our close acquaintances from nearby. An intimate gathering. Like family.”
“Oh.” Cornelia felt her chest tighten with apprehension. It was such a generous invitation, and there was no reason to say no. The warnings that were flaring in the back of her mind were silly – the way a country bumpkin would think. She was on the route to becoming a fine lady. A lady wouldn't be afraid of a change of scenery, or a crowd. “I think that sounds lovely.”
“Oh! That is nice.”
Cornelia shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Set aside the little plate she was holding with a scone balanced delicately on it. “I should send someone to fetch my luggage.”
“Of course.” Alexandra stood and pulled the bell. “Allanson?”
“Yes, milady?” Cornelia recognized the same maid who helped her dress last visit.
“Will you send a man to the Braxton townhouse to fetch Lady Cornelia's luggage?”
“Very good, milady.”
When she had gone, Cornelia licked her lips nervously. “Could Linton come and stay with me?” she asked.
“Linton?”
“My maidservant.”
Lady Alexandra's eyes narrowed and Cornelia got the feeling she would prefer Linton not to come here. Then she nodded. “Well, I don't see why not. I had hoped to lend you my maid, but all things considered it might be easier were we each to have a maidservant. We can both dress at the same time, then!” she laughed.
“That is true,” Cornelia said, nodding. I am glad Linton can be here. It is much better than being here alone.
“Well, then! When your luggage comes, we shall send the carriage back with instruction to fetch Linton. Then you'll be here. Isn't this exciting?”
Cornelia nodded, feeling a shiver of apprehension. She did feel excited too, however – lady Alexandra moved in different social circles to Lucas, who tended to keep to a less high-profile set. And the prospect of seeing Richmond again, terrifying though it was, also intrigued her.
If he really feels as Alexandra says, I suppose there is little to fear from him. And besides, Mama would be so proud of me if I managed to gain his affections. She could not have imagined someone more fitting for me than him.
“It is exciting.”
“There, now!” Alexandra laughed. “So you agree at last. Ah! Here is Allanson. She must be telling us the coach is here. Allanson?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Summon the coach-driver and tell him to return to the same place and fetch the maid, Linton. She's to join us here.” Cornelia caught her sharing a long look with Allanson, as if some silent, hidden message passed between them. She shivered and then dismissed the thought.
What could Lady Alexandra and her maid possibly have to plot about? They must be thinking about something else.
When Alexandra returned, she looked excited. She had her hands at her sides and her eyes sparkled. “Oh, this is fun! I can't think of anything nicer than having you here with me. We shall have such fun. And just think: if you stay here I can have some proper fittings done. We shall look so lovely when we next attend the salon!”
Cornelia smiled wanly at her. “That will be nice.�
�
The rest of the tea passed slowly, and Cornelia found herself running out of things to say. She was trying her best to keep up with the racy, allusion-ridden conversation Alexandra practiced as a matter of course, when Allanson came in.
“Linton is here, my lady. Lady Cornelia.”
“Oh!” Cornelia smiled, then quickly hid it when Alexandra raised a languid brow. It was unseemly to be excited about the arrival of a maidservant, she seemed to remind her. Cornelia subsided shyly.
“Could we retire to dress for dinner soon?” Cornelia asked. “I am weary and would rest a while before we go in.”
“Oh, my dear! Of course. I want to show you your chamber. Come. You will like it, I think...”
Cornelia followed, feeling a growing sense of unreality as she walked up the wide staircase she recalled from her most recent visit here. It was a beautiful house but, as they crossed the exquisite inlaid stone landing and into the long corridor, she couldn't help noticing signs of neglect.
It looks as though this wing of the house hasn't been refurbished in quite some time. It was small things – the patch of mildew on a curtain, a squeak of the door – all of them suggested that the guest quarters had not been used for a while, and no-one bothered to maintain them.
Cornelia frowned at her own misgivings. Why would that worry her? What mattered it if Alexandra and her brother did not entertain very often, or have house-guests? She was being silly.
“Here we are,” Alexandra said, showing her into a sumptuous chamber. There was a bed with velvety hangings, fresh linen sheets. Little pillows decorated it. A fire burned low in the grate and the floor was softly carpeted. The window looked out over London and she could almost see the park from it. It was wonderful.
“Thank you, Alexandra.”
“Not at all. Now. Allanson had the trunks brought...” she waved a hand at Cornelia's clothes. “Though I hope we can add one or two stylish ones to that.”
Cornelia laughed. Her disparagement was so honest it was funny. “It is very kind of you to want to do that.”
“Not at all,” she said again. “Now. I should go and find Richmond. Have a good rest.”
“Could I ask someone to send Linton to me, please?” Cornelia asked, feeling suddenly nervous of being on her own in this place.
“Of course.” There it was: that odd look again, the suspicions one. It vanished almost as soon as it appeared, though this time it was obvious to Cornelia. She hadn't imagined it. Why doesn't she approve of my maid?
Allanson left. Cornelia stayed where she was, looking about the room nervously. The late afternoon sun leaked onto the carpet, dyeing it a soft green. The room was decorated in pink and sage, white silk on the walls. For all its classic elegance, the room had the same slightly faded glory of the rest of the house. Cornelia shook herself, chiding herself for her foolish thoughts.
Alexandra has been nothing but kind. Richmond has been..well...not kind, exactly. Not unkind, though. And a bit of ardor can't be vexing.
Cornelia was pacing when the voice called out at the door. “Milady?”
“Linton!” Cornelia said. She wasn't alone here anymore! Seeing Linton in her dark linen uniform with her narrow face smiling at her was such a relief she could have hugged her.
“My lady. This is a rum sort of place, isn't it?” her maid said disparagingly. “Only six of the clock and you can't find a fresh fire laid anywhere.”
Cornelia frowned. She was right. The fire in the grate here was almost out. It was still warm in the room, and it was not yet autumnal enough to miss it, though the evenings could be chilly.
“Well, different people have different tastes, Linton,” Cornelia said slowly.
“Aye, an' different manners and all,” Linton said stiffly. “That housekeeper has a cheek.”
“She does?” Cornelia asked. Did she mean Allanson, or someone else? What did she say?
“Aye, she does that.” Linton turned and started to open the trunks, transferring some of Cornelia's dresses to the wardrobe.
“What happened?” Cornelia asked curiously.
“Nothing, milady,” Linton said. “Nothing worth worrying about. Now, I believe there's to be dinner in this place. What will you be wanting to wear?”
Cornelia smiled, touched by the familiarity of Linton and the ordinary questions. “The green, please. And if you could try something a little different with my hair?”
“Very good, my lady.”
Things weren't looking so bad after all, Cornelia thought. She might be all alone in a vast, dangerous place and surrounded by people she didn't begin to understand. But now she had a friend. And that was a valuable thing to have indeed.
Chapter 11
The dining-room at Northend Place was easily the grandest Cornelia had seen; and the grandest room in the house. The floor was marble, the designs inlaid by a master craftsman. The ceiling soared and was molded with designs of flowers and fruit. The table was long and polished to a high shine.
Cornelia took a seat opposite Lady Alexandra, beside one of her acquaintances, a tall, thin-faced man by the name of Baron West. He didn't speak much but Cornelia was comfortable with that: she was not much in the mood for talking herself.
At least I'm not next to Richmond.
He was sitting beside Alexandra. The first thing he did when he saw Cornelia was to incline his head in an elaborate bow.
“My lady,” he said softly. “Please. I beg pardon.”
Cornelia blinked, surprised. She wanted to believe him. After all, for such an arrogant man to ask, so humbly, for a pardon was not something to be taken lightly.
“I grant it,” she said. The words felt as if they were forced out, but she said them. He beamed.
“I am indebted, m'dear.”
Don't call me that! Cornelia wanted to spit the words at him. But something stopped her. Perhaps it was his elegance, the way he seemed genuinely contrite. If she had spoken to him like that, she would have seemed unreasonable. And she would have felt it, too.
“You are settling in, Cornelia?” Alexandra asked.
“I am. Thank you. I am pleased to have Linton with me.”
“I understand,” Alexandra said smoothly. “Though I trust you will allow Mimette to do your hair?”
Cornelia nodded. “I would like that, sometimes.”
“Ah! Capital! I have such a style in mind...what do you think, Richmond? Would not the hairstyle I wore to the theater suit?”
Richmond looked at Cornelia slowly, tilting his head to one side. “You're right, sister,” he said after a long consideration. “I think it would become Cornelia well.”
“Of course I'm right!” Alexandra chuckled. “I'm sure you'll feel no need for Linton here.”
I frowned. “I like her. She's familiar.”
Alexandra tittered. “Oh, you do have funny notions.”
“I like to have my valet with me,” the baron said from my side. “Makes sense. Don't need to tell the fellow things – he knows all the particulars – how I knot my cravats, that sort of thing – already.”
I smiled at him and Alexandra frowned.
“Yes, Baron. I suppose that's true. Not that ladies have to worry about cravats, of course.” she laughed lightly, but I could tell that she felt uncomfortable. She had been trying to downplay my attachment to Linton, and didn't like it that someone had sprung to my defense.
Why?
The conversation turned to other things and I was content to stay out of it, lost in my own thoughts.
“Cornelia?”
Richmond's voice, rich and seductive, brought me back to the present moment. I blinked. “Sorry?” I asked.
“We were discussing the topic of riding. Do you ride, my lady?”
“I do ride, a little,” Cornelia said cautiously. “I'm not a great rider, like my cousins. They're both accomplished horsewomen.” As I thought it, I felt an ache in my heart. I wished they were here. They would know what to do, I reckoned. They wouldn't let the
mselves be frightened by Richmond or shamed by Alexandra. They would stand up to them.
“You should ride more,” Alexandra put in. “It is an accomplishment more and more ladies do practice.”
“Oh.” Cornelia felt a frown on her brow. She herself had never cared much for riding – her father's estate was much smaller and less well-endowed than Braxton House, and she had never actually owned her own horse. Not that she was going to mention that here, of course.
“I could teach you,” Richmond offered smoothly. “Not here, of course, but we stable some horses on the outskirts, for when we wish to ride.”
“Oh.” Cornelia looked at the table, not sure what to say. “I suppose I could do with some practice. I did a little at home, Francis helped me, but...”
“Frances is your cousin, yes?”
“No.” Cornelia bit her lip, feeling miserable. Why had she gone and mentioned him? He was supposed to be her secret! Mentioning him in this company was wrong, like lighting a candle in a swamp.
“Who is she, then?”
“He,” Cornelia mumbled. Lady Alexandra's brow lifted high.
“Oh! A childhood sweetheart, perhaps? That's charming...”
“No. Francis is...just a lieutenant. Francis Wescote.”
Lady Alexandra put her head on one side. “Lieutenant Wescote?”
“Yes.” Cornelia frowned. “You recognize the name?”
“I do,” Lady Alexandra said, musing. “Richmond?”
“Yes, sister?”
“You know a Francis Wescote, don't you? Lieutenant?”
“Well, not personally, no. But...oh, yes. I do know that name.”
Cornelia looked from one to the other, horror closing her throat.
“What?” she asked. “If you know aught of him, please tell me!”
He'd been hurt. He'd been killed. They'd read about him in the paper, a martyr in a far-flung skirmish.
“He's in disgrace,” Lady Alexandra said.
Cornelia stared at her. “No,” she whispered. “He cannot be.”
“He is. Oh...” Lady Alexandra shook her head. “I should not have told you. But you see? I couldn't hide such news.”