Waltz With a Stranger

by Pamela Sherwood

  “I will bring your gloves and shawl now, mademoiselle,” Mariette announced and whisked away to the other end of the room where the chest of drawers stood.

  “Amy,” Aurelia lowered her voice, “what do you know of Lady Durward’s accusation?”

  “Oh, it’s nonsense, of course,” Amy said at once. “Trevenan’s cousin died last January in a fall. There was an inquest, but the coroner said it was an accident—and that he was, well, somewhat intoxicated at the time. I don’t recall ever meeting him last year,” she added with a slight frown. “He’d have been Viscount Alston then. Aunt Caroline told me that he was the hearty sportsman-type, mainly interested in hunting and shooting—and in no hurry to wed.

  “In any case, I know James had nothing to do with his death. He was miles away at the time, and he’s got tons of witnesses to prove it. And Papa already knows about this too. James told him when he first asked to court me. I should think all of us have more sense than to believe that spiteful harpy. She’s probably hoping for something—money, most likely.”

  To buy her silence? Aurelia wondered. An uncomfortable thought, indeed.

  “James must have the patience of a saint to deal with her as he has,” her sister went on. “Not to mention allowing her to stay here after the way she behaved. I should have shown her the door at once, and enlisted the staff to send her on her way if she refused to go!”

  “Perhaps he hopes to contain her in some way,” Aurelia speculated. “I should think it would be far worse to have Lady Durward running all over Cornwall with her accusations, or worse, spreading her slanders in London.”

  “True,” Amy acknowledged. “Not that anyone with a grain of sense would credit what she says. But she could still make life hideously unpleasant for James in the meantime.”

  And for me. The words hung unspoken on the air.

  “I am sure he’ll find some way to deal with her,” Aurelia said soothingly. “Or Lady Talbot will; she certainly seems formidable enough.”

  Mariette returned to drape a silk shawl over her mistress’s shoulders and fasten the pearl buttons on her evening gloves. Amy thanked her somewhat absently, then rose with a militant sparkle in her blue eyes. “Well, I just hope that harridan won’t be joining us at dinner!”

  Fortunately, there was no sign of Lady Durward or her husband when they entered the drawing room. According to Lady Talbot, her nephew’s other guests had elected to take their meals in their rooms. Aurelia strongly suspected their hostess had influenced that decision, but she could only be thankful the Durwards had absented themselves, for everyone’s sake.

  She glanced at Trevenan, who was presently standing by the mantelpiece gazing into the fire; the imprint of Lady Durward’s hand could no longer be seen on his cheek, but his dark eyes held an abstracted, even troubled look. What a miserable homecoming this must be for him, she thought with a rush of sympathy. She did not doubt his innocence any more than Amy did. What reason could Lady Durward have to accuse him, and why did she seem to hate him so?

  Even as she watched, Lord Trevenan straightened up and came to greet them. True to his breeding, he made no reference to that ugly business in the courtyard, but offered his arm to Mrs. Newbold to begin the formal promenade into dinner. Lady Talbot partnered Mr. Newbold, leaving Andrew to escort his sisters.

  The dining room was somewhat cool but not unbearably so. Aurelia’s shawl afforded her enough protection from stray draughts, and a fire burned cheerily in the grate. Lord Trevenan and Lady Talbot presided over opposite ends of the table, draped in pale damask and set with gleaming Crown Derby china and silverware so highly polished one could see one’s face in it.

  Dinner was excellent—a touch plainer than what Aurelia had seen on London tables, but the food was handsomely presented, savory, and plentiful. The fish was especially good, not surprising as Pentreath was so close to the sea. Oyster soup was followed by soles browned in butter, then spring lamb with mint sauce and new potatoes, and two chickens spit-roasted to a rich golden-brown. A sweet course of fresh fruit—strawberries and cherries—and a blackberry tart with cream ended the meal. Aurelia ate with genuine relish and was glad to see that her family also appeared to be enjoying the food; the long journey seemed to have given all of them an appetite.

  Conversation was light, even desultory, ranging over a variety of topics that might have been purposely chosen not to give offense. After what had happened earlier, Trevenan and Lady Talbot were no doubt intent on maintaining a relaxed, convivial atmosphere. Not having witnessed that exchange with the Durwards, Aurelia’s parents were perfectly at ease; Andrew too seemed inclined to accept the situation at face value. Aurelia wished she could do the same instead of feeling like there was a cache of dynamite with a slowly burning fuse stashed away upstairs. She glanced at Amy, but her twin’s face was an alabaster mask: calm and unreadable.

  After dinner, the women left the men to their port, proceeding to the drawing room where Lady Talbot offered a choice of tea or coffee. Aurelia accepted a cup of coffee, then gazed about the room, admiring its understated elegance. The house’s Tudor charm was evident here: The exposed roof-beams were varnished to a dark gloss, while the walls were painted a contrasting shade of warm white, setting off several oil paintings and a marvelous tapestry woven in deep greens, warm reds, and rich saffrons. Aurelia resolved to have a closer look later.

  The rest of the furnishings appeared to have been chosen with equal care—from the chairs and sofa upholstered in muted blue-and-green brocade to the tables, bookcases, and curio cabinets all gleaming with polish. A grand piano stood in the far corner, and the room itself was lightly redolent of citrus potpourri and beeswax. Aurelia took an appreciative breath, feeling oddly at ease. Pentreath might not be as splendid as some of the great estates she and her family had visited, but it seemed far more comfortable, even welcoming: a home and not a showplace.

  Lady Talbot’s voice recalled her to the present. “Pentreath has not really had a proper mistress since my mother died,” the viscountess was saying. “I acted as one for only a few years before my own marriage. And Augusta—my brother Joshua’s wife—preferred the Shires, where her family came from, or London.” She smiled at Amy. “I am pleased to know that will change, when you and James are married.”

  “I think Pentreath a very handsome estate, Lady Talbot,” Amy declared. “And I look forward to discovering more about Cornwall, as Trevenan has such a deep attachment to it.”

  “Oh, James is Cornish to the bone, never happier than when he is here! His father was just the same—and his uncle,” she added, with the air of one trying to give the latter his due. “I too love my birthplace dearly, and try to spend some time here every summer.”

  Aurelia couldn’t help wondering where the Durwards fit into all this, or the late earl, for that matter. The picture that was emerging of this family was not entirely comforting. Trevenan had mentioned that his uncle was not an easy man to live with, but he had loved his estate. His wife clearly hadn’t shared that affection. In what other ways might they have been ill-suited? And how might the children of an unhappy marriage have turned out, and how might they have treated another child whom they possibly saw as an interloper? She thought of Lady Durward’s venom toward Trevenan and suppressed a shiver. If Gerald had treated his cousin with the same open hostility and contempt, it was little wonder that James spoke so seldom of him.

  “Lady Talbot,” Amy began, “that painting over the fireplace—is that one of Thomas Sheridan’s works?”

  Aurelia glanced toward the painting, which showed a lighthouse poised like a shining white column against a seascape of vivid blues and greens. Sparsely detailed but striking.

  “Why, yes,” her hostess confirmed. “You have a good eye, my dear.”

  Amy shook her head. “I saw this painting, or one very like it, in Mr. Sheridan’s studio.”

  “I don’t doubt it’s the same one,” Lady Talbot replied. “James purchased it and had it sent down last week, wi
th specific instructions on where it was to be hung. It replaced a rather stodgy classical painting of Hades abducting Persephone, as I recall. This is far more pleasing.”

  “Mr. Sheridan is a very talented artist,” Amy declared, with an enthusiasm that surprised her twin. “I’ve commissioned him to paint my portrait as a wedding gift for James.”

  “An excellent idea. I understand that Mr. Sheridan is to arrive next week. Do you mean to sit for him then?” At Amy’s nod, she added, “There are several rooms here that might serve as a studio. At any rate, you’ll find plenty of likely settings for your portrait at Pentreath.”

  The drawing room door opened then, and the men came to join them. As Lady Talbot busied herself over the coffee service, Aurelia slipped away to examine the tapestry, which depicted a brightly clad procession bearing torches, sheaves of wheat, and bushels of fruit—a celebration of the harvest, by the looks of it. She admired the workmanship, then drifted over to the gleaming Broadwood piano, every bit as fine as the Érard in their Grosvenor Square house.

  She was standing over the keyboard, idly wondering if the piano was in tune, when she sensed his presence just at her shoulder. “You must have read my mind, Miss Aurelia. I was hoping I might prevail upon you and Amy to honor us with a song.”

  Aurelia glanced up at him. He’d been the perfect host tonight, showing no sign of the strain that must be taking its toll on him. But perhaps there was a hint of weariness about his fine dark eyes. “I would be happy to oblige, Lord Trevenan.” She ran an admiring hand over the top of the piano. “This is a beautiful instrument. Has it been in the family for many years?”

  He nodded. “It belonged to my grandmother, originally. Aunt Judith and my cousin Jessica are the only ones in the family who play now, so the piano’s been sadly neglected of late. But my aunt tells me it has been recently tuned. I would be delighted to hear it in regular use.”

  Music—it seemed little enough comfort to offer, but Aurelia was ready to give it all the same. “Of course,” she said at once. “Is there anything you particularly wish to hear tonight?”

  “I am happy to leave the choice up to you and Amy,” he replied. “But there are a number of songbooks in that bookcase over there, if you care to look through them.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. I’ll do just that.”

  “Then I’ll send Amy over to help you look.” He began to move away.

  “Lord Trevenan?” She kept her voice low, even as the words practically leapt out of her. “I hope—all is well with you,” she ventured as he turned back, his expression quizzical.

  “Perfectly well, Miss Aurelia. But I thank you for your concern.” His smile did not quite reach his eyes. “I’ll send your sister to you now.”

  She could not help watching as he walked away. If only there was something she could do to help him. But he seemed determined to handle this alone—she only hoped he could weather the storm. Stifling a sigh, she turned to the bookcase to begin her search.

  Eighteen

  Constant you are,

  But yet a woman; and for secrecy,

  No lady closer…

  —William Shakespeare, 1 Henry IV

  Much to Aurelia’s surprise, Mariette responded to her light tap on Amy’s door the following morning. Mademoiselle was indisposed, the maid informed her in a low voice, and—given the nature of her particular ailment—likely to remain in bed for the rest of the day.

  Aurelia grimaced in sympathy, easily deciphering her meaning. Amy always had a much harder time than she with her monthly courses. She’d be most comfortable in bed, with hot bricks at her back and a pot of some soothing tisane close by. Fortunately, Mariette seemed to have things well under control, and a breakfast tray had already been requested from the kitchen.

  Feeling oddly exposed without her twin beside her, Aurelia went down to breakfast alone. She located the breakfast parlor without difficulty: a cheerful little room with butter-yellow walls and windows facing east into the sunrise.

  Lady Talbot—currently the sole occupant of the room—looked up from her place at the table and smiled a greeting. “Good morning, Miss—Aurelia, is it not? You must forgive me,” she added as Aurelia nodded confirmation, “you and your sister are so very alike.”

  If it was a lie, it was a kind one at least, Aurelia thought as she smiled back. “Amy finds herself a bit under the weather this morning and will be taking her breakfast in bed.”

  “Oh, dear!” Lady Talbot sounded genuinely concerned. “I hope it is not serious?”

  Aurelia shook her head. “She will be fine, with time and a bit of rest.”

  “Ah. I am glad to hear it.” To Aurelia’s relief, Lady Talbot inquired no further as to the nature of Amy’s indisposition; perhaps she suspected the cause, in any case. “The breakfast dishes are laid out on the sideboard. Pray help yourself.”

  “Am I the first one down?” Aurelia inquired, picking up a plate from the table.

  “You are the first I’ve seen of your family today,” Lady Talbot informed her. “However, James has already breakfasted and gone out riding. He’s always been an early riser.”

  Aurelia hardly knew whether to ask about the other guests. She supposed it was too much to hope for that the Durwards might have come to their senses and decamped during the night.

  As if reading her thoughts, Lady Talbot said, “Helena and her husband have opted to have trays sent to their chambers.”

  Opted…somehow Aurelia doubted the choice had been left entirely up to the Durwards, but she was relieved not to be confronting that seething hostility first thing in the morning. She couldn’t help wondering, though, how long Lady Talbot could persuade her niece to keep away from the rest of the house party. Short of locking her in her room or throwing her in a dungeon—and Pentreath did not seem to be equipped with the latter.

  Banishing such unpleasant thoughts, she approached the heavy mahogany sideboard, where an array of silver chafing dishes—kept warm by the flames of spirit lamps—awaited her attention. One held porridge, blessedly unlike the lumpy mess that was too often produced by their own cook back in New York. Others held eggs, boiled and coddled, sausages, kippers, streaky bacon, and tender ham fried crisp at the edges. There were a few more exotic dishes as well, such as kedgeree and deviled kidneys. Aurelia couldn’t help wrinkling her nose a bit at the latter. She had never understood the English passion for kidneys and other such organ meats, although she thought they did breakfast splendidly in every other respect.

  “If there is something you would like but do not see on the sideboard, you have but to ask and it will be prepared for you,” Lady Talbot suggested.

  “Oh, no—this all looks wonderful!” Aurelia assured her hastily. “I can’t imagine needing anything more. I should become the size of a featherbed if I ate this well all the time.” She helped herself to coddled eggs, ham, and a small portion of kedgeree, then sat down opposite her hostess. Everything tasted as good as it looked, she discovered on the first delicious mouthful.

  Lady Talbot passed her the toast rack. “How did you sleep, Miss Aurelia?” she inquired.

  “Very well, thank you.” Aurelia took a slice of toast and spread it with strawberry preserves, bright as rubies in their cut-glass bowl. “I think I even heard the sea in the distance.”

  “You can indeed.” Lady Talbot smiled reminiscently. “I would hear it myself every night when I was a girl, sleeping in that chamber. The sound is better than a lullaby.”

  “I was wondering if I might perhaps have a closer look at the sea today,” Aurelia said, pouring herself a cup of tea from the silver service on the table. “What would be the most direct route down to the beach? Lord Trevenan mentioned that there was a staircase.”

  “Yes, the north staircase. The pitch is not too steep, and there is a banister to hold on to, but the climb does take a while if you are unused to it. You might be better off leaving by the main gateway and making your way down to the cove, though it will take somewhat longer
.”

  Aurelia shook her head. “I would prefer to chance the stairs, thank you. I daresay the exercise will do me good.”

  “I see you have an adventurous streak, my dear.” To Aurelia’s surprise, Lady Talbot sounded almost pleased, rather than disapproving.

  “Oh, Amy’s the daring one in our family,” Aurelia replied. “I simply have a great fondness for the sea. When we’d go to Newport during the summer, I would often be the first one up and about.” Sitting on the veranda in the mornings, breathing in the bracing salty air…and waiting—or rather, hoping—for Charlie to wander by, she remembered suddenly. The summer before her accident, they had contrived to meet several times in just such a fashion.

  She had not thought of Charlie since they’d left London; he seemed very far away just now, and she was glad of it.

  “I have never been to America myself,” Lady Talbot remarked, “but I have heard that Newport is considered quite the hub of Society there in the summer. Much as Torquay has become here. Is Newport a very exclusive place?”

  “Indeed—almost excessively so,” Aurelia confessed. “Nearly every prominent family goes there, and so do those aspiring to prominence.” She thought of their own status: accepted but not wholly welcome among the more established clans, never entirely certain whether their company would be embraced or rebuffed. “I suppose it’s not too different from London during the Season: a whirl of activities, and a very strict code of conduct. Drives to the casino and tennis matches in the morning, sea-bathing just before noon, luncheon aboard someone’s yacht, afternoon promenades along Bellevue Avenue, then perhaps a formal dinner followed by a dance. And then up the next morning to start it all over again.”

  “Gracious, how exhausting!” Lady Talbot exclaimed. “Even in my day, I’m not sure I’d have had the stamina to endure such a giddy round.”