“You will be fascinating, too, my love,” Juliet had comforted her.
As usual, Juliet was being kind. No one knew better than Lucy how terrified she was when forced to meet anyone outside of the household. She was painfully aware that everyone in the village and on the neighboring estates knew of her heritage. Her grandmother, leaving in the highest dudgeon, had not been silent on the subject of her daughter’s betrayal at the hands of Lord Felix Veringer. She had added injury to insult with dark tales of the Old Lord and, of course, everyone was aware of the fate that had befallen Sir Mark Driscoll, avoiding his son on the rare occasions he was seen in the village. No tradesmen would come to the Hold and few servants remained there. Only Tony’s doddering old butler and his equally ancient cook were still in residence, and that was because both were approaching 80 and could not hope for another position. There were also two brave maids, who stayed because of the high wages, but they talked, too.
Each time Lucy came into town for supplies, she caught looks and saw people making signs to ward off the evil eye. Long ago she had given up going to church because of the looks and whispers that followed her when she entered the Veringer pew. However, tonight she must try to abrogate her shyness while making a determined effort to charm Matthais Veringer. She did not look forward to the task.
❖
They had taken all the extension leaves out of the dining room table and still it was long, far too long for the three people who bowed their heads while one of them, Matthais Veringer, at his own request, said a lengthy and sonorous grace. Each word that issued from his lips was, in effect, a reproof because his distant cousin Lord More had not suggested a prayer but had left him to rectify the omission. Finally, Matthais ended what was more sermon than grace. Though he sat in the middle of the vast expanse of white linen, shining silver and sparkling crystal, Lucy, who had disliked him on sight, thought he gave the impression of presiding at it, while she at one end and her grandfather at the other were put in the position of being guests. As much as was humanly possible, Matthais Veringer avoided looking or speaking to her. His eyes, large and grey, had beamed their disapproval when she was introduced to him. He had not kissed her hand. He had merely touched it quickly as if he considered himself actually sullied by contact with one so far beneath him in station. Though he resided in Oxford Mr. Veringer had, Lucy guessed, an ear to local rumors. She wondered who his informant had been and did not put it past her grandmother to have written to him. That notion was quickly scotched when she recalled that Mrs. Crowell had difficulty signing her own name. It hardly mattered. Though Mr. Veringer might be uncomfortable and even affronted by her presence at table, she was delighted by his slights. In consequence of them, she was not compelled to speak to him and thus had plenty of time to observe him.
He was not ill-looking. He had the Veringer height and might have been more attractive were it not for the stamp his detestable air of self-consequence had imprinted upon his features. There was a touch of red to his heavily pomaded chestnut locks, and his grey eyes were well-shaped as was his nose. She did not like his mouth which she found too full. He was in danger of adding an extra chin to the one he already possessed. There was also a slight bulge below his waistline. His hands were too soft and white to please her, and there was a foppishness to his dress that made her glad Colin and Mark were not present. Both of them prized simplicity and might have made subtle jests about the immense amount of jewelry he wore. In addition to the signet ring that nearly reached the joint of the index finger on his right hand, there was a large diamond sparkling on his left. His garments, following the latest style, were black for evening. His shirt front was elaborately frilled, and he wore a yellow satin waistcoat embroidered with butterflies.
He ate what was put before him and did not refuse seconds. Eating, she decided, was evidently an activity that pleased him. He deigned to compliment Tony on his cuisine and seemed surprised that Mrs. McCulloch, the cook, was not of French extraction.
“We have always employed a Frenchman in our kitchens,” he remarked.
“Have you?”
Lucy, glancing at her grandfather, was hard put not to giggle. He was obviously fighting a strong desire to put down this young man.
For the first time since they had come to the table, Mr. Veringer turned his gaze on Lucy. “I presume, Miss Veringer, that you handle the hiring of the servants?”
She felt a rush of pure anger. His inference was plain. He was trying to put her in her place, which he clearly believed was not, at the master’s table. She said softly, “And why should you presume that, Cousin Matthais?”
She was pleased to note an angry frown in his eyes at what he must consider a familiarity unsuited to her position. “I had the impression that you were the... er, chatelaine of this establishment.”
“My grand-daughter does not serve in that capacity,” Tony said coldly. “It is I who have the hiring of the staff, most of whom have been here since before you were born, I am sure.”
“Indeed, sir, that speaks well for your treatment of them. We, too, have the reputation of maintaining a contented staff.” His eyes rested on Lucy again. “Of course, we do not pamper them.” He laughed shortly. “And we do insist upon decorum. Last year one of our maids found herself in the... family way, and she was dismissed on the spot.”
“And then what happened to her?” Lucy inquired coolly. The grey eyes fastened on her face. “She was sent to the workhouse, Miss Veringer. As for her unfortunate child, I expect it will be placed in an orphanage where it will learn a trade, something suitable for its station in life.”
“I see.” Lucy wondered if her grandfather detected the far from subtle insult inherent in the introduction of that pointed anecdote. A swift glance at him assured her that he had missed nothing of the exchange. His blue eyes were absolutely glacial as they lingered on Matthais Veringer’s face.
“I have always heard that conditions in the workhouses leave much to be desired,” Tony said with deceptive mildness.
“I have never heard that,” his guest replied. “I do not believe in coddling the underclasses, sir.”
“I see,” Tony commented.
“However, I have always found that morning and evening prayers do a great deal to keep servants in line.”
“It is my belief that worship is a private thing and best left to the individual,” Tony said coldly.
Matthais opened his eyes widely. “Surely you cannot be serious, sir. The girls of that class have no moral fiber. Look at the appalling number of illegitimate births! If not exposed to proper instruction and, I might add, discipline, these young women invariably go astray. It remains for their masters to offer such instruction so that they know that the Lord is watching them at all times. Thus they are guarded from unfortunate lapses.”
“I presume you are speaking specifically, sir, rather than figuratively. Those unfortunate lapses that you mention are, from my understanding, often the result of being young, pretty, defenseless and in households where the gentlemen are less concerned with their moral fiber than you appear to be,” Lucy said tartly and was immediately regretful. She had no wish to remind her grandfather of what was by now ancient history.
Matthais Veringer flushed. “I hardly believe that this is a fit topic of conversation for a female.” He might have said more but old Angus tottered in with the next course which, fortunately, proved succulent enough to take his mind from Lucy’s unmaidenly frankness.
Dinner finally ending, Tony suggested that Lucy repair to the music room. “We’ll have our port and join you there, presently, my love.” He smiled at her fondly, adding, “Lucy performs well upon the pianoforte.”
“If you please, sir,” Matthais said, leaning forward, “I know it’s late but since my time here is limited by my obligations in the city, I should like to see some of the house. If Miss Veringer would be so kind as to show it to me.”
“Of course, sir, I would be delighted,” Lucy murmured, her gaze falling in a m
iddle space, avoiding both her grandfather and their guest. Now that she had become aware of his condescension, she could even be amused by the lengths to which he was determined to go in order to put her in her proper place which, again, was obviously not in the music room. She could almost see into the workings of his small conventional mind. He was wrestling with the giant problem of how to treat one who, in his estimation, was no better than an upper servant, despite her Veringer connection. He obviously thought Tony a senile old man who, in lieu of any legitimate descendant, had elevated her to a position she had no right to occupy. That, she knew, was also the contention of the families dwelling in the immediate area.
“If you choose,” Tony said. “My granddaughter is a fine musician but also an excellent guide.” Again his arctic glance belied his smile.
Lucy had not expected that the castle would find favor in Mr. Veringer’s eyes. He had already been disposed to criticize before they started on a tour that had taken him through the hall and into the library, the music room and the second drawing room. However, she had not anticipated his utter dismay.
“But everything is so old and antiquated!” he almost bleated as they came forth from the main drawing room. “I doubt if you have so much as a water closet.”
“On the contrary.” Lucy managed to swallow a sharp retort, “We have quite a few. They are installed in all the bedrooms and have been there for the last fifty years!”
“Ah!” His sigh of relief was explosive. “My Milicent will appreciate that, at least.”
“Your... Milicent, sir?”
“My fiancée, the daughter of Lord Overbrook. She is Lady Milicent Overbrook. I am a most fortunate man. Had we not become affianced in April, the queen would have claimed her for the Royal Household.”
“Indeed. I felicitate you upon your happiness, sir.”
“I thank you, Miss Veringer.” He moved forward and stumbled. “Great heavens, these halls are dark! It would seem to me that your grandfather would have had gas laid on.”
“He much prefers candlelight, Cousin Matthais.” Lucy pressed her lips together to keep from laughing as she actually felt the disapproval welling up within him at this second reference to their relationship.
“Well, I expect that change is difficult for him to accept, Miss Veringer. A man as old as that, approaching ninety, his faculties must be quite impaired.”
“If you are suggesting senility, Cousin Matthais, I must hasten to correct that impression. My grandfather has a lively mind and a quite marvelous acumen.”
“It does credit to you that you are so eager to defend him, Miss Veringer.”
Lucy’s little hand tightened on the candle holder she was carrying. The man really was insufferable! Common courtesy demanded that she bridle her tongue and must also keep her from throwing the candle at him. However, at that moment, she longed to give him several pieces of her mind. She contented herself by saying with deceptive mildness, “Should you like to visit the Long Gallery, sir?”
“Yes, I should like that.” His tone brightened. “I expect I will find a likeness of my great-great-great grandfather Elias Veringer?”
“There is a portrait, I believe.”
“There must be,” he said firmly.
In spite of two candelabra, the portrait gallery was sunk in shadow. Lucy, leading him from one end to the other, was forced to carry an extra candle to light Mr. Veringer’s way. From his comments, he appeared more impressed with the older generations than with the brood that had sprung from the loins of Richard and Catlin. “Lord Veringer’s mother was, I seem to recall, of Irish extraction?” he asked.
“Yes.” Lucy hearing the disdain in his tone, added wickedly, “My great-grandmother was Irish born and bred.”
“And... on your mother’s side?” There was an underlying sarcasm to his tone that did not escape Lucy. She doubted that it was meant to do so.
She responded calmly and clearly. “As far as I can determine, sir, they were pure English, though I never knew my mother and my late grandmother did not inform me as to her heritage.”
“I expect she had little time to sit and talk,” he replied pointedly.
“That is true.” Lucy smiled up at him. “Being housekeeper of so large an establishment as the Hold is a gigantic task, and my grandmother prided herself upon her efficiency.”
“I am sure she had every right to do that,” he allowed magnanimously. He came to a stop in front of Juliet’s portrait painted, had he but known it, by her brother as a present for what would have been her twenty-first birthday. Colin’s own ponrait hung next to that of his sister. Matthais looked closely from one to the other. “A handsome pair,” he remarked. He cleared his throat. “One hears such odd tales in the village.”
“Oh?” Lucy, well-aware of what he must have heard, looked at him interrogatively. “What sort of tales?”
“Quite wild,” he amplified. “I am sure you must be acquainted with them yourself.”
“I cannot be sure of that until I know what you’ve heard.”
“The most arrant nonsense, of course. I’d not thought that old superstitions were so prevalent in this enlightened age.”
“Old superstitions, sir?”
“You are not aware of them?” he probed.
“I have learned never to heed village gossip, sir.”
“Er... very wise, I am sure. And who would this be?” He pointed to the portrait of Felix Veringer as a young man, before dissipation had marked his handsome features.
“That is my father, sir,” Lucy said softly.
“Oh, yes, your father...” He cleared his throat. “Miss Veringer, I have a question for you which I hope you’ll not take amiss, but I feel I must have an answer since your grandfather’s decidedly frail. I observed him rather closely at dinner, and it seems to me that his days upon this earth are numbered. I should like to know what you intend to do, once the title and estate are conferred upon me. You have another cousin, too, whom I believe is in much the same circumstances as yourself. Have either of you given any thought of your future?”
Lucy, caught unawares, experienced a sinking feeling.
“We have not, I fear, contemplated our grandfather’s death. He is very dear to us, you know.”
“That is certainly understandable and your feeling for him does you credit, but we must be practical in more ways than one. I wish that I might offer you both a home here, but Milicent...” Though he left the sentence unfinished, his implication was all too clear. He would not subject his highborn bride to the contamination of two baseborn relations.
“You needn’t concern yourself about our Cousin Mark or our dearest Lucy. We’ll see that they are both comfortable and want for nothing, dear Cousin Matthais,” remarked a silvery voice from the shadows.
“Yes, indeed, we will provide for them,” concurred a deeper voice.
Lucy, moving back, cast a startled glance into the gloom. “Juliet,” she mouthed and, in that same moment, she appeared with Colin a few paces behind her.
Juliet looked particularly fetching in a gown fashioned for her by Charles Worth on her last visit to Paris. Of white peau de soie, it was draped over a huge crinoline. Small lilies of the valley were embroidered on the skirt, and if her décolleté seemed daring for the girl of 17 she still appeared to be, she looked so lovely that one forgot about the proprieties. Colin was fashionably dressed in grey, his shirt pleated rather than frilled, his suit beautifully cut. He presented a marked contrast to his foppish relative. He and his sister looked as if they had just come from a gala evening at the theater, and thanks to their retractable fangs, their smiles revealed nothing more than a general good cheer. However Matthais Veringer, staring at them and then at the shadowy mirror that hung over the fireplace and which reflected everything in the room except that attractive pair, did not respond to their bonhomie.
As they came closer, he tottered away, “Stay b-b-back,” he squealed. “In the name of... of...” There was a loud thump as he toppled to t
he floor in a dead faint.
Oblivious of her fallen cousin, Juliet surged forward, “You know we’d not let you want for anything, my dearest Lucy,” she cried.
“Quite true,” Colin agreed with an affectionate smile.
Lucy felt laughter threatening but coupled with it was anxiety. “I do appreciate your concern,” she said, “but truthfully, I think it would have been better if you’d not made so precipitate an entrance.”
“Probably you are right.” Juliet nodded. “But we couldn’t help it, overhearing him. Of all the unctuous, toadying little... and he’s to be Earl of More! Oh, Colin!” Juliet clasped her brother’s arm. “If only you hadn’t been so dreadfully impulsive.”
“It’s too late to repine, my love,” he murmured. “And I dare say that he is part of the curse.”
“A large part.” Juliet twinkled. “I’d say he weighed at least twenty stone, but I do think we ought to get him to his chamber. He cannot remain here all the night.”
“An admirable suggestion, my dear.” Colin lifted Matthais and slung him over his shoulder.
“How easily you did that!” Lucy marveled.
“It’s one of the benefits of transition,” Juliet explained. “We’re both much stronger than we were before.”
“I remember you telling me that,” Lucy said, “but I did not realize how strong until this moment.”
Juliet glided to the window. “I do wish you could just throw him out, Colin,” she said wistfully.
“Oh, no!” Lucy exclaimed.
“No, certainly not,” Colin reproved. “You mustn’t be so bloodthirsty, Juliet.” His eyes widened as he broke into ironical laughter.
Juliet also laughed. “I could never thirst after that blood,” she said frankly. “It must be dreadfully thin and full of impurities. Which chamber have you alotted to him, Lucy?”
“The East wing at the end of the hall.”
“I’ll put him to bed,” Colin said obligingly.
“I’d best sit by him,” Juliet murmured. “He’ll need an explanation.”
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