The gray-green sea was flat today, but Louisa remembered when it roiled. She took a deep breath of salty air. “It’s too cold to swim now, of course, but perhaps we can walk along the beach later once we get settled.” The car rolled into the courtyard, and in less than half a minute, the staff emerged from the front door and lined up. Beside her, Captain Cooper gave an audible gulp.
“They’re all here to meet you, Maximillian,” Louisa whispered. “Begin as you mean to go on.”
“What in hell does that mean?”
“Hush. Maximillian doesn’t use vulgar language in the presence of a lady. You must accept their deference as if you’re used to it. Remember the château staff attended to your every whim, not that you were hard to please. But don’t be too friendly—the servants will think less of you. Don’t be too cold, either. I never would have married a snob.”
“I’ll aim for ‘just right’ then. Goldilocks would have had a regular field day breaking beds and chairs in a pile this size.”
Captain Cooper had seemed weary on the trip, but suddenly his chin lifted and spine stiffened as he climbed out of the car. He extended a hand to her to help her down and she gave it a gentle squeeze. “Showtime. Break a leg! Good afternoon, everyone!” she said with false cheer. “I’m so pleased to be home.” Louisa clung to the captain’s arm as an affectionate—but not too affectionate—new wife would. “May I present my husband, Mr. Maximillian Norwich?”
Louisa performed the necessary introductions and accepted the earnest congratulations. Several of the servants were unfamiliar to her, but Griffith, the butler who’d been here since her grandfather’s day, provided assistance. Captain Cooper nodded and smiled in a most dignified manner, not showing too many teeth. He made a striking impression in his new clothes. Aunt Grace would not be able to fault the man on his fashionable appearance.
“How fares my aunt, Griffith?”
The butler clucked. “Not well, Miss Louisa, not well. Oh! I should say Mrs. Norwich. I daresay that will take me a little to get used to. Mrs. Westlake has not left her bed this age. She’s most anxious you go straight to her apartments to see her, once you’ve refreshed yourselves, of course.”
“And my cousin. Is he about?”
“In London, madam. On bank business. We expect him back any day.”
Well, that was one good thing. Louisa did not relish the prospect of Hugh inspecting Maximillian Norwich just yet.
“Lulu, darling!”
The man at her side twitched. “Lulu? Really?”
Louisa stifled her groan and urge to elbow Captain Cooper for his mockery. Isobel flew out the front door, dripping in pearls and trailing sleeves and scarves. Louisa found herself embraced in a quantity of silk heavily scented with patchouli. She stifled a sneeze, too.
“Is this divine creature your husband? I quite see why you eloped, dear heart. What shoulders!” Isobel was actually running a hand over one of them while Captain Cooper looked somewhat ill at ease. “I am Lulu’s second cousin, Isobel Crane. So delighted to meet you. Now, you must tell me exactly how you charmed her. We’d given up that any man could do so.”
“Isobel, do let go of Maximillian; you’ll bruise him. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. I’m sure my husband wants to see our rooms before we go to Aunt Grace. Griffith, where did Mrs. Lang put us?” The housekeeper had not been present in the line of employees.
“In your parents’ room, Mrs. Norwich. Mrs. Lang wished me to apologize for her. Her mother’s funeral was yesterday and she is not yet back.”
“Goodness, how awful.” Louisa wasn’t sure if she was commenting over the death or being forced to share a bedroom with Captain Cooper.
“Cot,” Cooper muttered.
“Shh. I’ll see to it, if Mrs. Lang hasn’t already. She does tend to cover all the bases.” Louisa didn’t much like Mrs. Lang, but she recognized the woman was an excellent housekeeper.
They trooped up the front steps behind Griffith, passing into the enormous entrance hall. An arrangement of hothouse flowers stood on the center table. Louisa had spent much of her time growing up hiding in the conservatory, and she recognized the plants as Rosemont’s own—she’d tended them herself. “Lovely,” she said to the butler.
“Your aunt Grace did them herself to welcome you home.”
Louisa was surprised. It was not like Grace to be crafty or kind. “Got out of her bed, did she?”
“No, Mrs. Norwich. Everything was brought up to her and then carried down.”
The Chinese urn weighed a ton, even empty. “How annoying for the servants. I’ll be happy to do the next one. It will be time for pine boughs and holly soon, I think.”
“Yes, madam. May I say how delighted we all are to have you home for Christmas. Last year just wasn’t the same without you.”
It hadn’t been the same for her, either. She and Kathleen had dined on roast duck and champagne in a French country inn, warm and snug in the charming little dining room. There had been no interminable Christmas lunch with twenty courses and Aunt Grace giving her the gimlet eye.
“I hope you and Mrs. Lang will help me when it comes time to get presents for the new staff, Griffith. There are quite a few new faces.”
The butler cleared his throat. “Yes, madam. Your aunt insisted on replacing those staff members she felt were inefficient.”
Grace really had no right to do so now that Louisa was officially in charge. But how had Louisa exercised her authority? By running away.
“Well, thank goodness you’re still here. I don’t know what Rosemont would do without you.”
“You’d all manage, I’m sure.” But Griffith looked pleased with the praise. “But speaking of presents, we have a small wedding gift for you and Mr. Norwich from the staff.” Griffith snapped his gloved fingers. There was no noise, but a footman raced in with a very large beribboned box. The servants had followed them into the hallway and stood expectantly.
Captain Cooper stared. “A small gift?”
“Oh, Griffith! You shouldn’t have! How very kind of you all. Help me open it, Maximillian. Darling.”
“Of course, Louisa. Darling.” The captain pulled one end of the silver ribbon while Louisa pulled the other. They tussled with the box top. Inside a cloud of tissue was an ornate ceramic planter.
“To pot one of your orchids, Mrs. Norwich. We know how you love your flowers.”
“It’s lovely.” Louisa stifled her impulse to kiss the old butler on his cheek. The impropriety of it would horrify him. “I cannot wait to fill it. Thank you all so very much.”
There was a smattering of polite applause. Everyone had contributed out of their hard-earned pay, Griffith more than his share, no doubt. Louisa was sure Aunt Grace was not a generous employer and resolved to do something about that as soon as possible.
“You needn’t accompany us up the stairs, Griffith. I know my way. Come along, Maximillian, dear.”
“Yes, Louisa, dear.”
Louisa looked over her shoulder. The captain was wearing a deceptively meek expression. That wouldn’t do at all. Maximillian was forceful, always in command, except of course when he deferred to her superior sensibilities.
“Stop that,” she hissed.
“Stop what?”
“Looking like that—so, so—milksoppy.”
“Is there such a word?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, dear.”
Oh, this was not going to be easy. Louisa rued for the hundredth time that she’d ever created the impossibly charming, impossibly perfect Maximillian Norwich. What man could ever live up to him? Certainly not Charles Cooper, who seemed determined to drive her the slightest bit crazy.
She passed by her old bedroom with regret and continued around corner after corner to the end of the hall. The double doors to her parents’ suite were open. More flow
ers graced the sitting room mantel and tabletops, and a lively fire warmed the room. The cream and gray wallpaper was new, and the furniture had been reupholstered in dull grayish jacquard fabric that reflected the present color of the water. Not very cheerful. Louisa sensed Aunt Grace’s grim decorative hand. She walked to the bank of windows and set the new planter down on the sill. “I never get tired of watching the waves.”
“Impressive.”
The captain had come up behind her, his single word tickling the back of her neck.
“Yes, isn’t it? This suite has a sea view from all the rooms, even the bath.”
“I trust the seagulls won’t tell any tales when I’m scrubbing away.”
Louisa had a quick mental flash of a burnished man lazing in the bathtub—his chest slick with silver beads of water, his head thrown back and eyes closed—and shook it out of her head. She was not going to see any of Captain Cooper’s exposed brown skin if she could help it, no matter how curious she was. “You can close the shutters for privacy if you like.”
“I don’t think so. The view’s too beautiful.”
Louisa nodded. “We can agree on that at least. But you mustn’t be too agreeable. No more of this “Yes, dear” nonsense. I would not respect a man who doesn’t stand up for himself, and neither will my aunt. She already thinks I’m much too headstrong and need the firm hand of some man. But that’s nonsense. Maximillian and I have an equal partnership.”
“Do we indeed? That’s not very likely, particularly for two spoiled only children. I grew up in a castle, after all.”
“It was a château, and I wasn’t spoiled!”
“Oh, come now. You grew up in all this splendor. I’ll have to drop bread crumbs like Hansel and Gretel to find my way back here.”
“I can draw you a map.”
“I may take you up on that. My entire family lived in a cottage half the size of this room.”
It was true that the sitting room was very large. The bedroom was even larger. Louisa supposed she should get the inspection over with. The door to it was set flush into the gray-painted paneling. Really, if she was truly married, she’d feel like she lived in a battleship. If she stayed in these rooms for any length of time, they’d have to be done over. What had Aunt Grace been thinking?
Louisa knew very well. Apart from the flowers, which the servants had probably placed, this sitting room did not say “Welcome home.”
The bedroom was at least as her parents had left it, its furnishings quite faded from years of morning sun. She had only the dimmest memories of cuddling on the glazed chintz window seat with her mother, and even those memories were more likely wistful wishes. Louisa bustled through to her mother’s dressing room, the cupboards standing open and empty, and threw open the bathroom door. The black-and-white tiles sparkled, but she had no interest in refreshing herself just yet.
“God blind me! The tub’s the size of a swimming pool.”
“Never mind that. We are searching for your cot, Cap—Maximillian.” It was going to be dreadfully hard to remember to call him by the correct name. She should have practiced more on the train.
Another door led to her father’s dressing room. Dressing room was a misnomer. It was really a small bedroom, complete with a single bed, a fireplace, and a comfortable leather club chair beside it. It had its own exit to the hallway, so the captain would not have to wander through the bath, her dressing room, and her bedroom and catch her in a state of dishabille. A stack of books lay on the bedside table. Had her father ever read them? Louisa knew so little about her parents’ habits.
Captain Cooper sat down on the mattress and bounced. “Hard. But better than sleeping in a trench. And you’ll be far enough away so my restlessness won’t disturb you.”
Ah yes. His nightmares. She would have to send for Dr. Fentress. “I’m glad it suits. I really haven’t spent time in here in years and had forgotten what was in this room. The doors have always been locked.”
“How old were you when you lost your parents?”
“Four.” She had her mother’s jewelry, of course, but nothing else. Aunt Grace had stripped the rooms of all personal effects. Were her parents’ things in the attics? How nice it would be to imagine her mother in one of her Worth dresses.
“So young. My mother died when I was fifteen.”
“Is your father still living?”
“No.”
Captain Cooper did not elaborate, and Louisa left the unhappy subject alone. They were both orphans, and Maximillian Norwich was as well. Killing off inconvenient make-believe people was not difficult, but living with real loss was.
“Our trunks should come up any minute. Do you wish to use the—” A real wife might not be shy about her husband washing and doing other things involving plumbing, but she was not a real wife.
“Ladies first. I’ll wait here.” He folded his long body into her father’s leather chair and shut his eye.
Good heavens. She hoped he didn’t hear her as she relieved herself. To make sure, she turned on the taps and hummed. It was a bit early for a Christmas carol, but she had never kept the rules of Advent and would not now. In her opinion, all those mournful hymns were best left unsung.
After a few rounds of “Good King Wenceslas,” she washed her hands and face and checked her teeth for any remnants of their lunch on the train. It couldn’t be put off any longer. It was time to see Aunt Grace.
But when she returned to her father’s dressing room, she found her “husband” sound asleep in the chair, snoring softly at regular intervals. Louisa didn’t have the heart to wake him up—the past few days had been exhausting for her, too. Tiptoeing out of the room, she decided to make his excuses to her aunt. A few hours’ delay would make no difference. Captain Cooper was hers for the whole month, and would have plenty of time to suffer under Aunt Grace’s gorgon-like stare.
Chapter
7
The blue velvet drapes were closed against the thin afternoon sunshine, but the room did not smell of illness or pending death. Aunt Grace sat up straight in bed in a lacy bedjacket, her reading glasses slipping down her nose, her faded blond hair rolled up neatly. A pile of society newspapers were littered across the counterpane. She set the Tatler down and stared over her lenses, her dark eyes sharp.
“Ah, niece! So nice to have you back with us after all this time. I suppose we must put an announcement of your marriage in the papers. It is really quite shocking that we have not done so already. I imagine they’ll want to interview you, too, though of course we will shun the publicity. What has it been now—almost four months of wedded bliss?” She peered into the gloom behind Louisa. “Where is your young man?”
Oh dear. Louisa hadn’t planned on announcements or interviews. “He sends his regrets, Aunt Grace. I’m afraid his old injury is troubling him.”
“Injury? What injury?”
“I may have neglected to mention it. His eye was damaged in a youthful boxing match and I’m afraid he gets dreadful headaches sometimes. Travel has been a strain for him.”
“You’ve not gone and shackled yourself to some weakling, have you, Louisa? From your letters, I was under the impression Mr. Norwich was perfection itself.”
“Maximillian is perfect, truly. I could not ask for a better husband.”
“Your loyalty does you no credit if the man is unworthy of you and your fortune. All this nonsense about art. What kind of man spends all day looking at pictures in museums? He’s not a molly, is he?”
Louisa choked back a laugh. Captain Cooper was definitely not effeminate in any way. “Of course not. He collects art for his château and is regarded as quite an expert in certain circles.”
“I suppose you’ll want to settle in France then and leave me the running of Rosemont.”
Well, that didn’t take long. “I’m not sure what our plans are.” It suited Louisa to be evas
ive. If all went according to plan, she’d dislodge Grace and Hugh and make Rosemont her own at last, or at the very least be back on the Continent next year enjoying her freedom. “And I shouldn’t like to tax you, Aunt Grace. Hugh wrote that you’ve not been well.”
Her aunt waved a white hand, her diamond wedding rings glittering. She had married the younger brother of a viscount, although the marriage had not lasted long before the man got lucky and died. “Oh, pooh. A few fainting spells here and there. It was my own fault—I flirted with a new diet for a little while. One hates to lose one’s figure as one ages, as you will one day find out if your reckless behavior doesn’t lead you to an early grave. Dr. Fentress has given me an iron tonic and I’m getting stronger every day.”
Louisa curbed her reckless tongue. “I’m glad to hear it, but it’s time you took care of yourself. Perhaps a smaller house would suit you better.”
“A smaller house? What nonsense! Rosemont has been in my care for over twenty years. You’ll not find so much as a speck of dust under your bed. I hope you do not think I’ve shirked my duty.”
Grace was certainly not crawling under furniture with a duster herself. Louisa did not want to argue quite yet with her aunt, although it was clear she was spoiling for a fight. The woman had never met anyone she hadn’t tried to dominate, and for far too long she’d intimidated Louisa. But no more. Louisa was twenty-six years old, practically ancient. She’d crammed a lot of living into the past year of independence and was not about to cave under Grace’s scrutiny.
“I don’t want to tire you out, Aunt Grace. We can talk tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow! Why, I’ve arranged for a welcome-home dinner for you tonight. I’ve asked Dr. Fentress, the Merwyns, Mr. Baxter, and a few others. I hope your husband’s headache clears up—everyone is just dying to meet him.”
Damn. Louisa had hoped for more time before she threw Charles Cooper into the brine of the Rosemont social sea. Mr. Baxter was her man of business at the bank. He was not going to make some sort of legal fuss about her marriage, was he? She hadn’t thought to ask Mrs. Evensong to forge a marriage certificate for her, not that the woman seemed likely to participate in a real fraud. “Oh, you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. Are you well enough to come down to dinner?”
In the Arms of the Heiress (A LADIES UNLACED NOVEL) Page 5