by Julia Donner
Lady Duncan, who had been refreshing her memory of the banners and tapestries with Mrs. Gliddens, headed for the broad staircase.
“An excellent suggestion!” she called over her shoulder. “Do not be alarmed if I don’t show my face before dinner. I could do with a nap. I know that you young people will not mind sharing a dish of tea without me.”
Lady Duncan, whose piercing voice carried down from the top of the stairs, said to the housekeeper, ”I shall need nothing but a rest for my eyes. My niece will be desiring one of her searing baths. The gel is forever bathing. Immoral, if you ask me. The only sensible thing about it is that she eschews the antiquated habit of wearing a shift. Bathes entirely in the nude. Such nonsense. How times have changed, Mrs. Gliddens. Come along, Cassandra!”
Mortified, Cassandra averted her burning face. It was bad enough that her aunt was so forthcoming with the staff. Mrs. Gliddens looked like the sort who wouldn’t hold with such familiarity.
Cassandra wished she could dissolve into the floor. Her aunt’s comments had to create a distinct image for any listener. The footman by the entry door was strenuously working to control his quivering lips. Ravenswold had turned his head away to remove a non-existent speck from his coat sleeve.
Lady Duncan’s penchant for speaking exactly what was on her mind had once again asserted itself, but Cassandra wasn’t fooled. Not above using inappropriately personal remarks when it suited her purpose, her aunt planted improper ideas.
Cassandra choked out a mumbled excuse and fled up the stairs. She tried to put the humiliating incident behind her as she followed Mrs. Gliddens into the east wing, but she couldn’t ignore the prickle of Ravenswold’s gaze boring into her back as she went up the staircase. The prickling sensation between her shoulder blades persisted. She didn’t want to think about what he was imagining but couldn’t stop the thoughts.
Her pride evident, Mrs. Gliddens escorted Cassandra through Ravencourt’s guest accommodations. Cassandra took care to compliment Mrs. Gliddens and the staff’s efforts. Her rooms, the Green Suite, comprised a bedchamber with a large dressing room and sitting room. Situated at the end of the wing, her apartment offered views of the grounds from windows on all three sides, including the inner court gardens.
Fires had been lit in all the rooms to ward off the damp chill caused by the rain. Beams of mellow light shafted down through the lifting clouds. The draperies were drawn back to take advantage of the late afternoon sunshine, leaving her rooms awash with buttery light.
A balcony extended across the length of the bedchamber and sitting room and looked down on the inner court. As soon as the housekeeper left, Cassandra went outside to investigate. She inhaled a deep breath of rain-washed air and looked around.
Situated on high ground, Ravencourt provided a lush vista of rolling, green countryside that faded into a distant blue mist. Sun glinted on placid water through a break in the trees. She grinned and vowed to discover as soon as possible if the pond was deep enough for a relaxing plunge.
The distal end west wing stood directly across from her balcony. Sunlight reflected on three tiers of windows that faced the inner court. She frowned and then squinted at a subtle movement. For a moment, it looked as if someone were standing in the window of the opposite wing, looking out in her direction.
“Oh, miss, isn’t Ravencourt grand?”
“Tessa, you startled me! Must you creep about silent as a cat?”
“Ever so sorry. I was in preparing the bath. You must come and see it!”
Cassandra followed Tessa inside to the dressing room that held two vast clothespresses for her few clothes. A brazier had been supplied for added warmth. Cassandra blinked at the luxury of it all as Tessa helped her to undress.
“Did you see her ladyship’s rooms, Miss Cassy? It’s all brocade, ormolu and porcelain. The Gold Suite, it’s called. Liddy is so very impressed!”
“Liddy?” Cassandra asked, only mildly interested and lowered her travel-cramped body into hot water.
“Oh, that’s right. That’s Lydia Finch, her ladyship’s new dresser. We have lovely rooms. And I have a window! Have you ever heard the like? I’m right overhead on the next floor up. Very convenient with the servants’ stairs directly outside my door. I asked Mr. Nettlechope if he was sure he put me in the right room. ‘This can’t be the attic,’ says I. And Mr. Nettlechope says to me, so very dignified, you know, ‘No, Miss Tessart. His lordship is of the opinion that lofts are for storage and not for persons.’ And Mrs. Gliddens is all that is kind and helpful. All of the servants here are so very nice. Not a rotten apple have I found in the lot. We’ll be having a bonny time below stairs.”
“I congratulate you on your good fortune, Tessa. Hand me that sponge. Thank you.”
“And did you see the footman that helped with your boxes? So tall and strong! And did I tell you that I have the sweetest little chair placed just so, beside the window? And you’ll never believe it, a vase of daffodils! Who ever heard of flowers in the servants’ rooms? I think the world and all of Lord and Lady Duncan, but I can’t abide the maids’ dormitory in that fusty castle. Ever so cold and damp. It’s so very pleasant here. Why, I couldn’t feel more at home if I was back at Tamer—so sorry, Miss Cassy. I really shouldn’t have reminded us of that.”
Tessa stooped to collect the stockings and shoes from the floor. She arranged a bath blanket near the brazier to warm, while Cassandra watched Tessa’s flustered activity following the comment about their former home.
“Those years were rather idyllic, weren’t they, Tessa? Do you recall how we would spend the day on the river in nothing but our shifts? Then on the way home, pinch some apples from Widow Leade’s orchard?”
“And the stomachache we got from eating them!”
“Remember the time her son and Billy Hempstead caught us and made us pay for silence with a kiss? Bakers would’ve had a blue fit had she known!”
“Good thing she didn’t find out about that nasty Billy Hempstead. She would have taken a cane to the lout’s back.”
Cassandra looked away. “Life got him instead, Tessa. I recently heard that he’d been ruined betting on horseracing. Put a period to his useless life in a very unmanly manner. Whatever happened to Jamie Leade? I thought you were bespoken to the lad.”
“Me and all the other girls in the district!”
Cassandra laughed. Tessa grinned back and used a wrist to wipe the flaxen tendrils escaping from her cap from in front of her eyes. Moisture had gathered in the room, wilting the starch from her apron and tightening her wispy blond hair into corkscrew curls.
“Ah, I never would’ve married the likes of Jamie Leade. We had our good times, to be sure, thanks to the trick you told me about the sponge and vinegar, but he was more interested in dragging me off to the hayrack than making it something permanent. A regular greedy guts when it came to lovemaking. And a mighty fine tool he had for it, I must say.”
Cassandra squeezed out her sponge and threw it at Tessa. “You wretched hussy! Wash your mouth out, Tessart!”
Tessa sidestepped the sloppy missile that landed with a splat on the floor. A saucy grin perked up the corners of Tessa’s mouth when she bent to pick it up. She flipped the sponge back into the water, propped a hand on one hip and lifted her nose.
“Only three times did I let him and then never again. First time should’ve been enough to learn he wasn’t the man for me. Beautiful to look at, but no finesse and all lies, the rutting bug—oh my! Excuse that.”
“Don’t turn into a beet on my account. We both know I’ve spent too much time in the stables not to have heard that epithet. And a few others.”
“Too much time with the lower orders, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t, but that’s never stopped you. Eavesdropping on the stable lads is where I heard about the sponge and vinegar bit.”
“Got to hand it to you there. Jamie liked it ever so much better than pulling out at the end. Don’t expect I’ll be using that sponge muc
h in this house.”
“Perhaps that’s the wisest course, but what brought about this observation? No specimens equal to Jamie and his charms?”
“It’s Mr. Nettlechope. He’s a fine man, but strict. Everything one likes in a butler, of course, and kind. None of those grand airs and no pinching on the bum when a girl’s back is turned. Jenkins is the same, very correct in everything. That’s the earl’s valet. No hoity-toityness in Jenkins. Why, if not for his superior speech, one would take him for a gentleman farmer. And then there’s Tucker!”
“Make up your mind, Tessa! Will you marry the butler, the valet or the footman?”
Tessa gave Cassandra’s joke serious consideration. “Mr. Nettlechope is far too old to satisfy a female of my years. Jenkins is a bachelor that will not budge. But, oh, that Tucker!”
“Tessa, please promise that you will behave and not be the cause of embarrassment.”
“What? Do you take me for a bufflehead? In any event, Mrs. Gliddens hinted that that sort of behavior is grounds for dismissal at Ravencourt. A rather fussy lot, I must say. What shall I lay out for dinner?”
“I’m too exhausted to suffer through a long meal.”
Tessa placed the warmed bath blanket in reach. “Too ornery is more like.”
“Oh, very well then. You make a choice. One is as bad as the other. I can scarcely afford to put out the blunt for a new gown, what with Aunt Jane paying for your wages as it is.”
“I’ll hear no more about wages, thank you very much! That you should even concern yourself with such things. The two of us have been through too much to give up on each other now. It’s your own stubborn fault for not letting me pack those lovely clothes Lord Duncan bought for you in Edinburgh. And after all the work I put into the alterations!”
“Go away, Tessa. Look for your footman. They must be serving up a meal below stairs by this time. You’ll be missing your sweets if you’re not quick.”
“If that’s what you wish, I’ll be off then. You have a nice soak-up, and I’ll finish the unpacking later. I’ll lay out the green gown you wore to the Wethermore party.”
“Wretch! You tucked that in did you?”
“What will they think of me below stairs with the way you look most times? I could sink with shame!”
“I give over. Just for you, Tessa, lay out the green.”
“Thank you. And take that nap.” Satisfied that she’d had the last word, Tessa dipped a mocking curtsy and left.
Cassandra sighed and looked around. Inquisitive, she opened the drawers of a small commode next to the tub. She discovered various crystal pots of lotions, scents and unguents.
Chuckling, she murmured, “What, no daffodils?”
A purple glass vial contained the mysteries of the East—cloves and the same fragrance as the salts in the bath water. It had been a while since she’d known the luxury of perfume, so she drizzled a few drops across the steaming surface.
Cassandra leaned back against the embroidered scarf draped in the bath for comfort and safety from slipping. She inhaled the spicy, dark fumes and exhaled contentment.
Now here was a novel method of presenting a ladylove with an unorthodox gift—merely sneak it into her rooms as a part of the accouterment. Ravenswold could be a rather twisty fellow, even though he acted as dull as mud. Still waters running deep, she mused, remembering the heat within his deceptively calm gaze.
Cassandra shrugged and slipped deeper into the scented water, relaxing away the aches from the long coach ride.
“To hell with you, Aunt Jane. There’s nothing quite like naked decadence.”
Chapter 16
Cassandra awoke the following day before dawn. She slipped out of bed, lit a candle and quickly dressed, delighted with the quiet privacy.
Her lavender riding habit looked deplorable but felt comfortable from constant and rugged usage. She never tired of the game of ignoring offers from her aunt to buy a new one and refused to allow Tessa to make up another from cast-off material. The only control she had over her lack of income came through the game of refusing her aunt’s offers to primp up her wardrobe.
Cassandra pulled on riding gloves and blew out the light. She gathered the habit’s train and draped it over her left arm before exiting through the balcony door. She doubted that any of the stable help would be awake yet, but she could pass the time until they stirred by looking over the cattle in the stables.
The soles of her boots crunched on flagstone as she descended the steps and briskly walked through the garden. A tingling sensation brushed her shoulders and down her spine—the feeling of being watched.
She glanced over her shoulder and up at the west wing. All the windows were dark but reflected dawn’s faint light. Near the ground floor, the only movement came from sleepy trees dripping dew from glossy leaves. Iridescent beads sparkled on the drooping heads of early roses; their heavy fragrance ascended from soft petals, secretive and lush in the humid air. Nothing else stirred in the murky stillness before sunrise.
When she reached the stable block, she discovered a glow from within. Dim lamplight illuminated a row of stalls. The inquisitive poked their heads out over the gates to peer at the stranger.
A man the size of Ravenswold hummed under his breath while he rubbed down the burnished coat of a leggy sorrel. He didn’t hear her approach, and for a while, she watched him work. He bore more than a little resemblance to his master. Somewhere along the way, the sixth earl or another libidinous ancestor, had strayed from the connubial bed. The groom bore the stamp of Ravenswold on his face as well as his height, long limbs and extraordinary breadth of shoulder and chest. When the sorrel’s head turned to look at her, the groom straightened up from picking out a hoof and removed his cap.
“Morning, miss. I’m Farnsby. His lordship said that you’d be needin’ a mount come the sun. Beggin’ your pardon, miss, from what his lordship said, I thought you might like Rufus, here.”
“A very good morning to you, Farnsby! Thank you for selecting this excellent fellow.”
She surveyed Rufus, an elegant-limbed gelding with a dark orange coat, white streaked mane and two white socks. His large brown eyes, even though calm and intelligent, assessed her with a crafty glint, warning her she’d be wise to be wary.
“Looks German bred, Farnsby.”
“That he is, miss. He’s a real goer. Will take anything you throw at him. Trained him myself from the day he was dropped. He’s the best we’ve got, next to his lordship’s gray and that great, black-hearted beast, Andronicus.”
Farnsby gestured at the regal black head at the far end of the stable. Andronicus blew a challenging snort. “Listen to him blowin’ and fussin’ as if we’ve come to steal his mares!”
“Does he get ridden at all or just used for service?”
“His lordship does both with the black and the gray. Uses Andronicus to breed for flat runners and the gray, Poseidon, for hunting. Won’t be a minute, miss. All it wants is the saddle.”
True to his word, Farnsby had the sorrel tacked up and at the mounting block before the sky could brighten to full dawn.
Cassandra used the block to mount. She hooked her leg around the saddle horn, arranged her skirts and slipped her left foot in the stirrup Farnsby held steady. After checking the girth, she tugged on the gelding’s loose mane, a trick she liked to use to make a new mount pay attention and remember her.
Cassandra started off with a sedate walk in front of the stable to test the sorrel’s balance and movement and to give the horse a few moments to get accustomed to her. She also had it in mind to let the protective groom see how tenderly she treated one of his favorites.
“He’s splendid, Farnsby! Quite smooth and tractable. You are to be complimented. And don’t worry. I shall limber him up properly down in that hollow beyond the road. I shan’t return until luncheon, if you’d be so kind as to pass that along to the house.”
“Shouldn’t I be goin’ with you, miss?”
“No, thank you.
That won’t be necessary. Only tell me where I may not venture. I promise to stay out of the plowed fields. I’m a country-bred girl, you know!”
Farnsby started to complain that she couldn’t ride unescorted, but she quelled him with a glance that she hoped would discourage him from running to Ravenswold.
“Very well, miss,” he finally conceded, not happy. “Ride where you will, and if you should encounter anyone, say that you’re a guest at Ravencourt. That will put all in order.”
“Don’t concern yourself so, Farnsby. Rufus and I shall return all of one piece,” she called over her shoulder and directed the sorrel down the gentle slope.
***
Rave woke well before dawn. He waited and watched for Cassandra to appear. The prospect from the west wing provided a better view than that of Cassandra’s suite. The prospect from his rooms presented an unrestricted view of the stables. When Cassandra came out of the horse barn and approached the mounting block, Rave used the opportunity to exit his second floor balcony door.
Dawn glowed pink and gold as he strode across the wet lawn. Moisture sparkled and fell as he brushed by saturated yew hedges. His boot heels rang dully when he reached the walkway to the stables. Farnsby led out a heavily-muscled, pale gray hunter. Poseidon snorted and pawed, eager to get away from the barn.
Rave patted the stud’s high-arched neck. “He looks to be in fine fettle this morning. And you, Farnsby?”
“I’ll do. He’s full of nasty ideas, he is. Nearly chewed through the bit waitin’ for you. He expected you long before and hates standin’ about. I suspect he’s put out that Rufus got let out before him.”
“What are you feeding this beast to make him so evil—nails and old boots?”
Rave smiled when the horse shook his head, rattling the heavy bridle, as if to disagree. He gave the horse’s sleek neck a playful slap and tightened the saddle girth, causing the stud to release a soft squeal of protest.
Farnsby snorted. “He’s gettin’ a big head from jumpin’ so many mares.”