Through the Smoke
Page 43Dropping onto the bed, Rachel wondered how to handle this latest development. If she was to entertain the earl at his bidding, he likely wanted her to be robed in something that reminded him less of her station. But she would always be a poor village girl, and there was no getting aro und that.
A soft knock sounded and Mary poked her head in before Rachel could even stir. “Did ye ’ear? The dressmaker is in the parlor, and ’e’s waitin’ for Mistress Rachel! I ’eard ’im tell Mrs. Poulson so!”
“I know. Poulson just left, but… what am I to do?”
“What do ye mean? Ye pick yer favorite, of course.” She dragged Rachel into the dressing room and opened the armoire. “’Ave ye ever seen more fancy gowns than these?”
Rachel felt so out of place she almost couldn’t bring herself to touch Katherine’s clothing, let alone select something that would be altered to fit her. “I am happy with my own plain clothes.”
“Get what you can,” Mary admonished. “Ye can sell ’is gifts later, if ye ’ave need.” She pulled a beautiful green velvet frock from the armoire and held it against Rachel. “See what this one does for yer eyes? I bet ye’ll look even prettier in it than the former mistress did.”
Rachel caught Mary’s arm. “You knew her? Lady Katherine?”
“Not as well as Rosie did. Rosie was her lady’s maid. She went to the Abbotts after the fire, but ye didn’t ’ave to be close to get an inkling of what Lady Katherine was like.”
“So? Tell me about her.”
“Would you say he cared a great deal for her?” Rachel knew what Lord Druridge had told her, but she was curious to hear how the servants perceived their relationship.
Mary shrugged. “Och, what does love matter? It was an arranged marriage, a calculated match.”
“Weren’t they ever tender with each other?”
Mary’s expression changed. “Ye canna fall in love with ’im, Rachel. Ye need to listen to me.”
Mary had already warned her once. “I won’t. I just… I saw Katherine occasionally on the streets of Creswell. She was so beautiful.”
“On the outside, maybe.” She left the dress in Rachel’s hands. “Ye’d better not keep Mr. Cardiff waitin’.”
Rachel rubbed the rich fabric against her cheek. “I should choose this one? You’re sure?” She’d probably never have the chance to own something so fine again.
“Aye, I’m sure.”
The earl didn’t summon her for chess that night or the next. Rachel was beginning to believe she might already have lost his favor. She heard him come and go late at night, but he never entered her room or invited her to his. She had no communication with him at all except a brief note in which he said he hoped she was making herself at home on the estate. Mary delivered the note. She delivered everything, including food, water for bathing and even the green gown when it was ready.
Other than those visits, Rachel was alone or visiting with Geordie. She walked with her brother in the gardens or along the cliffs, or ventured to the library down the hall on her own, which contained a more extensive collection of books than her bookshop.
By the third day of her new situation, she was feeling stronger, better rested and more satisfied, but she was growing anxious for some way to get back to town. She had a message for Elspeth, but she had no idea how she would get it into Elspeth’s hands. Although Wythe went to the brothel regularly, she knew better than to trust him with it, or to beg a ride. He frightened her far more than the obdurate Mrs. Poulson, although she did all she could to avoid them both. Once when she was sitting next to the window in the library, using the sunlight pouring through the panes to read Lord Byron’s Don Juan, a book her mother had always considered too scandalous for her, she heard Wythe in the hall outside and ducked beneath the desk lest he enter and find her there.
Fortunately, he hadn’t intruded on her as she feared he might, but she listened for him always.
On Friday, instead of a tray of food for her evening meal, Mary brought a note from Lord Druridge.
Please join me for dinner this evening.
She stared up at her new friend. “Does he mean in the dining hall?”
Mary seemed equally awestruck. “Aye. Mrs. Poulson already ’ad me set another place, so that’s exactly what ’e means. I’m to ’elp ye dress.”
“At least ye’re more likable than Lady Katherine ever was.”
They laughed, but Rachel was no longer laughing when she walked downstairs. She was too nervous, especially when she saw that Lord Druridge was already seated. What would he think of her in his late wife’s dress?
She wasn’t even sure he’d recognize it. She’d had the dressmaker remove the pretentious frills and bows. Now a much simpler design, it had a wide neck that showed her shoulders, a fitted bodice and full sleeves with a wide skirt that fell to her ankles, where a few inches of her stockings showed above the kid leather slippers that had arrived with the dress. For the first time since she could remember, she was wearing three petticoats in addition to her corset.
Lord Druridge stood when she entered the room. “Good evening.”
She dipped into a curtsy. “Good evening to you, my lord.” Feeling self-conscious and shy beneath his regard, she smiled—until Wythe strode into the room. Then she no longer wanted to be there.
“Ah, we have company tonight. And doesn’t she look ravishing.” He bowed but she could tell he wasn’t pleased to have her present. “Cousin, I commend you on your eye for beauty. But I must warn you. If the house help are forced to serve her, they might beat her from the door as soon as you’re not looking.”
Druridge’s gaze turned flinty. “And why would they do that?”
“Because they are green with envy. You are not merely offering Rachel a few baubles for her favors; you are treating her like a respected lady. Pray she does not forget her place or she might wind up more of an outcast than ever before.”