“By the way, it has been some time since our last game of chess. I have taken the liberty of asking Charles to bring out the board,” the Earl said casually.
Roger sat upright. “By George, I’d forgotten! You promised me another crack at you and I certainly mean to have it.”
From under the lashes of her half-closed eyes, Wendy watched as Charles set the wooden table between the two men. The top of the table was inlaid with rosewood. The pieces looked hand-carved, perhaps also of rosewood. She observed with amusement as the two men bent over the board. Wendy knew the rules of the game, but she did not particularly enjoy chess. Occasionally, she played very well; more often she was careless. But then, Wendy had never been fascinated by games. They existed to be enjoyed, and what difference did it make who won? In her more honest moments, she sometimes wondered if this philosophy grew out of a fear of considering games important and then losing.
Roger and Lord Richard, however, were obviously serious about chess. They did not even look up as a maid brought the tea tray and set it on a lawn table. The young woman looked rather timidly at Lord Richard, and Wendy guessed it was not an unfamiliar situation to her. “Lord Richard,” the woman said gently. “Lord Richard!”
“Yes? What is it?” he snapped angrily. Then, looking up, he perceived the situation. “I’m sorry, Gwen. Thank you. Please move that table next to Miss Pratt and the other next to Dr. Witler and myself. Wendy, will you pour?”
“Of course.”
As the cups were ready, Gwen placed them on the table next to the men. Wendy put several pastries on her plate and signaled Gwen to put the rest next to the men, also. The maid gave her a grateful smile and then returned to the house.
Wendy was half asleep in her chair when she was startled by a burst of laughter. She turned her head and immediately saw the cause. Roger had won the chess game.
“That will teach you to be overconfident!” he warned.
Lord Richard smiled easily. “No doubt!”
Roger, still chuckling, glanced at his watch and started. “Good Lord! I’ve got to leave at once. I told Kay I’d be back by now and that she could then have the evening off. She’s a good nurse and I shouldn’t want to lose her.”
The Earl stood. “Of course. I’m sure we will see you soon.”
Roger turned to Wendy. “With such an excellent excuse, of course you will. Stay off the foot, Wendy.”
She nodded and watched the two men walking back to the castle. When they were out of sight, she struggled to her feet and hobbled to the castle herself. There was a door next to her room which opened to the outside, but it had been locked earlier, so she entered through the billiard room. From there it was just around the corner and down the hall to her room.
It was with some trepidation that Wendy approached the James Room that evening. She had pinned her hair up and away from her face so that it fell in curls, but she wore the clothes she had arrived in. The blouse was soft and full sleeved, but the skirt was only blue linen and could hardly be called dressy. It was a miracle, she thought, that neither had been torn when she fell. In any case, it would have been impossible to look elegant on crutches.
Her worst fears were confirmed when she entered the James Room. Lord Richard appeared to have made an effort to “dress down.” Instead of velvet, his dinner jacket was only black cloth. But with the black tie and glittering cufflinks, he still looked quite formal. He turned as she entered and, after observing her appearance, closed his eyes for a moment. Then he was his usual self again.
“Good evening, Wendy. I note the improvement. A glass of sherry? Good. Please be seated.”
He brought her the glass and sat beside her. “I assume you’ve written another letter to Kevin asking him to send-” He stopped at the sight of her dismay.
“I-I forgot,” Wendy stammered, thinking, How can I explain to Kevin that I need formal dresses to recover from pulled tendons? Aloud she said, “I’ll write him in the morning.”
“Never mind!” Lord Richard said crisply.
Noting his exasperation, Wendy thought, We move in such different circles. I wonder if there’s anything we have in common? Or if we could ever understand each other? Aloud, she said to end the silence, “Have you traveled much, Lord Richard?”
“Here and there. You?”
She sighed. “Not really. To Canada and Mexico, and once Japan. Now, to England. It’s funny, but when I came to England and found a job, I thought I would have the chance to visit Europe. All of it. I want to, very much.”
“Why haven’t you?” the Earl asked, interested in spite of himself.
She shook her head wistfully. “Always one reason or another. And…”
She would not speak to Kevin to Lord Richard. She must remember she was supposed to be engaged, and it would never do to complain about her fiance. Besides, it was a private matter.
Lord Richard eyed her quizzically, then mentally shrugged. Aloud, he said, “My parents used to go to the Continent every year. Sometimes I went with them. Later, I went alone. I preferred that. I used to hang around the left bank cafes in Paris, pretending I wasn’t heir to a title, or rich. And I liked Scandinavia and Italy and the pyramids in Egypt. They were just the same as in the history books. And I’ve been to Prague for their spring music festival.”
He stopped suddenly, as though embarrassed. Not for the first time, Wendy felt a twinge of envy. Lord Richard stood and stared down, for a moment, at her rapt expression. Then he asked carelessly, “Shall we go in to dine?”
He waited as Wendy managed with her crutches and stood aside to let her go first. Again, the dining room was lit by candlelight and the massive, dark furniture glistened and formed deep shadows as the flames danced in an unfelt breeze. Somehow, it made Wendy uneasy and she shivered.
“Cold?” asked the Earl.
“No.” She hesitated. “It just seems-too perfect here. Almost as it must have been two hundred years ago.”
“That disturbs you?” Lord Richard’s voice was puzzled.
Wendy nodded, slowly. “Yes. Two hundred years ago it was-suitable. Now, it seems like such a false existence.
Lord Richard frowned. “You know nothing of my existence, Miss Pratt. You see only the luxury, not the other sides. Yes, I cling to certain gracious customs-dining by candlelight and dressing to dine; servants; and this castle as well as a good townhouse. I cling to them because I see enough ugliness at other times, and I don’t like ugliness. But, despite your fears, it does not blind me to the other reality. I spend a great deal of time trying to do something about that ugliness.”
His voice snapped as he concluded his defense, and Wendy sensed anger in his tone. She asked quietly, “Like the clinic? And the school?”
Lord Richard met her eyes, but his voice was curt. “If you must know, yes. But they are none of your affair. Good lord, girl! You see my servants as decadence, but you haven’t stopped to think that if I hadn’t hired them, they might not have a source of income. You can’t accuse me of holding wild, senseless orgies of self-indulgence, you know!”
Her voice was still quiet as she replied, “I accuse you of nothing, Lord Richard. For one thing, I don’t know you well enough. But I begin to think I have misjudged you.,,
His smile was ironic. “Do you? How nice. I wish I could say the same about you.”
Wendy flinched and replied coolly, “But then, you don’t understand people very well, do you? Never mind, I really don’t care what opinion you have of me. I could bear anyone’s company for two weeks and once I leave here, I need never see you again anyway.”
Lord Richard merely stared at her a moment. When he spoke, it was of different matters. “Pray tell me. What does your fiance, Kevin, do for a living? Or is he wealthy?”
She pretended to contemplate her wineglass. “Kevin? Oh, he works for Beckworth and Brothers, also. General sort of executive work.”
“I see.” The voice was casual.
“I already told you that and I don’t se
e why you find it of interest!” Wendy exclaimed.
The Earl yawned. “One must speak of something. And I can hardly be blamed for not remembering every detail you told me. Besides, I was curious to see if you would give me the same answer tonight.”
Wendy’s immediate impulse was to leave the table. But she was no coward and was determined not to be driven away by this man. She stared at him impassively, waiting.
After a moment, he laughed. “I believe you would dearly like to slap my face,” he said. “I will not, however, give you the opportunity. This raises a question I have asked myself before. Why are so many women eager to marry me when I obviously have such an abominable personality?”
“Perhaps you overestimate their interest?” Wendy suggested sweetly.
He shook his head. “I have a number of written proposals in my desk and there have been as many verbal ones.”
“Then,” said Wendy calmly, “the women clearly do not comprehend the essence of marriage. Or rather, what marriage should be. It can be anything.”
Lord Richard seemed amused. “You have, of course, definite ideas on that subject?”
She regarded him steadily, not amused. “Don’t you? Shouldn’t one? I know what I want out of marriage. A lifelong partnership with some man; and equal give and take. I want to be a person to the man, not an actress filling some well-defined role. And most of all I want love.”
Lord Richard’s face was impassive and for a moment he did not answer. When he did, he asked, “Children?”
Wendy shrugged. “I want them… eventually. But I don’t intend to stop translating. I’ll do it part-time at home.”
“Your ideas must limit the number of men who would want to marry you,” said the Earl.
“No doubt,” she replied coolly. “But then, those men who can’t accept my ideas-well, I wouldn’t want to marry them anyway. I’d rather be single than make the wrong marriage. And since I’m quite capable of supporting myself, I have that choice.”
Watching her face in the candlelight, Lord Richard had no doubts that he faced an excellent actress. He wondered if she had written her own lines, or if someone had coached her. If so, who? The only mistake she had made thus far was to forget the engagement ring. Or perhaps that was all part of her subtle game.
He smiled. The next few weeks might prove very interesting, particularly since he was forewarned and therefore safe. He wondered what the report would show. She seemed quite thorough and it was possible she even had the job at Beckworth and Brothers. She must have expected him to check on her. It was almost a pity that he would have to make an example of her.
Noting Lord Richard’s silence, Wendy grew uneasy. Kevin often said she talked too much, and she wondered if she had annoyed the Earl with her chatter. Then he smiled and she did not trust the smile. She wondered just what his plans were. Again she shivered.
Lord Richard was immediately solicitous. “You are cold. Unfortunately, the castle is drafty even in summer. Perhaps a little more wine will help warm you?”
Wendy did not protest. It was easier to drink the wine than to tell him she distrusted his intentions.
Wendy had just finished washing her hair when the maid, Gwen, knocked on the door. “Come in!” she called, assuming the maid had come to collect her breakfast tray.
But Gwen had not come for that purpose and, towel in hand, hair tangled and wet, Wendy sat very still. “What are those?” she demanded, pointing to the three evening gowns Gwen carried.
The maid gave a faint smile. “Lord Richard said I should bring them to you. They’re for you to wear.”
Wendy’s mouth set in a hard line. “I see. Well, you may take them away. I don’t want them.”
Gwen looked worried. “He said you were to have them, Miss. I can’t take them back.”
“I see. Very well, leave them here.”
“Yes, Miss!” Gwen said, with evident relief.
Grimly, Wendy dried and combed out her hair as Gwen hung up the dresses, then took away the breakfast tray. Her hair still wet, Wendy tied it at the back of her neck and, hobbling on crutches, made her way to the library.
Lord Richard was at his desk working and called absentmindedly, “Come in.”
“What are those dresses doing in my room?” Wendy asked evenly.
“They are for you to wear, of course. Simpler than waiting for you to write your fiance to send some up.”
“I don’t want them!”
Lord Richard looked startled. “Why ever not?”
Wendy’s voice was determined. “I would rather not accept any gifts from you, Lord Richard.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Nevertheless, you will wear those dresses.”
“No!”
Lord Richard was amused. “My dear Wendy, do you imagine I had ordered them for you? My maid informed me that you and my mother were of a size. I directed her to select three of my mother’s dresses and give them to you to wear. You are taller, of course, but then I won’t be looking at your ankles. You may consider the dresses as a gift or as a loan-as you choose. But you will please wear them. It spoils my digestion to see you dressed as you are at dinner. And since you are my guest, I do think you might be considerate in this matter.”
“All right,” Wendy said in a subdued voice. And she added, unwillingly, “Thank you.”
He nodded curtly and looked from her to his papers pointedly. Immediately, she turned and left the library. She did not notice Lord Richard staring after her.
Back in her room, Wendy found Gwen making the bed. “Do any of the dresses have hems?” she asked the maid.
“Yes, Miss. All of them,” Gwen replied warily.
“Is there a sewing kit I might use?” Wendy asked. “I shall certainly have to let down the hems and perhaps make other changes as well.”
Gwen sighed. “I’ll take them, Miss, and have the hems done.”
“Oh, no!” Wendy said instantly. “You must have enough to do as it is, and it will give me a change from reading.”
Gwen smiled. “Well, in that case, Miss, I’d be grateful. You see, there’s only seven of us now to take care of the place. That’s enough for Lord Richard, and when he has guests he hires more help-usually. But still, it keeps us busy.”
“I understand. And there’s no hurry about the sewing kit. When you’ve a chance, perhaps you could fetch it?” Wendy suggested.
Gwen nodded. “Shall I take out the dresses for you to try?”
“Please,” Wendy replied.
Gwen laid them on the bed. The first was a sleeveless dark green velvet dress with a deep neckline. The second was of chiffon in swirling peacock blues and greens. The sleeves were long ruffles. The third was an Indian print of plum with little green and white flowers on cotton, with long sleeves.
Gwen assured Wendy that the old hemline could be removed on the cotton and chiffon dresses, but she was doubtful of the velvet.
“Well, I’ll wear it as it is then,” Wendy said philosophically. “It’s still more elegant than what I’m accustomed to.”
Fortunately, the velvet was the longest of the three anyway. Gwen was enthusiastic as she helped Wendy try on the dresses.
“Just the size! And they look better on you than they ever did on Lady Janet,” Gwen confided. “She always tried to dress ever so much younger than she was.”
“I’ll wear the velvet tonight,” Wendy mused. “Then there’ll be no need to hurry over the hems.”
Gwen nodded approvingly. “And I’ll bring some matching ribbons for your hair, if you’d like, Miss.”
Wendy smiled her thanks.
True to her word, Gwen brought the ribbons with the sewing kit. And Wendy happily set herself to the task of rehemming the dresses. There was fortunately no need to measure length. She would simply stitch the narrowest hem possible. Then the dresses would almost touch the floor and hide her sandals. Those nice, sensible, but hardly dressy, sandals. Despite her earlier anger at Lord Richard, Wendy could not regret having agreed to
wear these dresses.
She had formals of her own, but somehow she had rarely had the chance to wear them in London. Kevin abhorred dressing up and avoided all formal occasions when possible. Most men Wendy knew felt that way. It might be nice if Lord Richard invited Dr. Witler to dinner some evening…
Stop it! she told herself firmly. You are practically engaged to Kevin. Anyway, Roger might well be married or engaged or have a steady girl. With a sigh, Wendy finished the last of the stitches. By this time, lunch had come and gone. She way trying to decide whether to brave the library when there was a knock at her door.
It was Lord Richard. “Do you play chess?” he asked curtly. She nodded and he said, “Come along then.”
Mystified and curious, Wendy reached for her crutches. Lord Richard held the door for her, then stepped ahead and strode swiftly to the library. There he paused and, with ill-concealed impatience, waited for her. She did not hurry. The chess table and chessmen had been set up between two comfortable chairs.
“Black or white?” he asked.
Well, that was not how the matter was usually decided, but Wendy replied automatically, “Black.”
That way she would not have to make the first move. She took the chair he indicated and waited. Lord Richard moved a pawn. Wendy was far more interested in his strange behavior than the game and moved her pieces without a great deal of forethought. Lord Richard, on the other hand, spent a good deal of time deliberating each move. He was no doubt seeking patterns to Wendy’s moves, patterns that did not exist.
Never having read books on the subject, she tended to be an unorthodox player. This sometimes proved to be a very effective tactic. As she watched Lord Richard, Wendy noted the intense concentration and wondered what was disturbing him. Even deep in thought, his face was not an unhandsome one, she admitted to herself. It was a forceful face; the face of a man sure of himself and what he wanted.
Suddenly he looked up and said hastily, “Excuse me.
He hurried to his desk and began scrawling furiously. It apparently had something to do with his work, Wendy thought. With increasing amusement, she watched him. After several minutes, he set down his pen with a satisfied air and looked up. Wendy laughed.
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