Hidden inheritance, p.7
Hidden Inheritance, page 7
Flinging the drapery fringe aside, Juliana sighed with impatience. “Would you like to join me in the music room? I must know if you play. Do you? It is one of the great pleasures I have, to be able to indulge myself at the pianoforte. Come.” She beckoned with an imperious gesture of her hand, then bounced from the room with a youthful exuberance.
Following more sedately—after all, she had no idea when Lord Stone might leave the dining room, and heaven forbid she be found comporting herself with a lack of refinement—Vanessa trailed behind her. Juliana had tugged the covers away from the instrument by the time Vanessa entered the room, and soon was skillfully drawing forth exquisite sound from the pianoforte. Had Vanessa played, she would have been reluctant to attempt it after this performance.
Lady Juliana beamed at the round of applause from Vanessa following her rendition of Scarlatti’s Cat’s Fugue. Vanessa returned the smile.
“You play with a delicacy quite rare, Lady Juliana. It is unusual to see such grace and tasteful style in one so young. I quite admire your agile finger technique. I have no ability to speak of on the pianoforte. My direction lies with the harp.” Vanessa gave a sigh, wondering if she would ever be able to apply her fingers to the strings of her own beloved instrument once again.
Lady Juliana looked to the doorway behind Vanessa and demanded, “Do you hear that, Nicholas? I have a kindred soul in Miss Tarleton. Is there not some way we might find a harp for her to play? I would dearly love to engage in duets with her. It would be vastly entertaining for us all, would it not?” Her plea was softened by an appealing smile.
Vanessa turned to discover Lord Stone standing far closer to her than she liked. Giving him a cautious look, she tried to be casual in her walk to the pianoforte, where she felt a refuge in Lady Juliana’s proximity.
“Your harp is stored at Blackwood Hall, as I recollect.” Nicholas looked, really looked, at his young sister, noting the improved appearance of her gown, the eager smile which bloomed on her face. Why hadn’t he observed how much she had grown up, how badly she needed taking in hand?
Pamela had assured him Juliana was content with her plumpness and her lonely hours at the pianoforte. Obviously she was not. It irritated him no end that this woman, this stranger, should enter his home and in minutes see what he had not perceived. “I will see what I can do, Juliana.” He nodded at her, then turned his thoughtful gaze upon Vanessa.
“I have instructed Peverly to assist you in the morning as to the setting up of a worktable and anything else you may find necessary.” He bowed, quite correct and cool, then left the room with no further words.
A chill seemed to have fallen over the room after his departure. Even Lady Juliana felt it, mused Vanessa as she watched the young lady rub her hands over her arms.
“You can be certain Nicholas will do something about a harp, but what, I wonder?” Lady Juliana poked at the keys of her pianoforte with an idle finger as she turned a speculative gaze on Vanessa.
Joining Lady Juliana in her exit from the music room, Vanessa also wondered just what Lord Stone might do once he discovered that she had no intention of forgetting her resolve to help his darling young sister. Recalling the ferocity of his frown earlier, she decided perhaps it was as well she didn’t know. It could very well cost her some much-needed sleep!
Chapter 5
Peverly magically appeared before her eyes as Vanessa rounded the corner of the great hall to search for him the next morning. The screen behind which he discreetly retired from time to time was inconspicuous to a high degree.
“You startled me,” she exclaimed in a breathless gasp. Then she smiled at him and, like Mr. Millbank, he was captivated by her charm. “I must seek your help, Peverly. Did Lord Stone tell you about the worktable I shall need?” She wondered if the kindly old butler, his grim appearance so at odds with his gentle ways, would recall any command given more than ten minutes before.
“Indeed, miss. I have instructed the footmen to set up a large table in the saloon. Please follow me.”
Vanessa walked behind the stiffly erect old man into the spacious saloon. In the morning light, she saw that the walls were hung with pale yellow silk, with an abundance of gilding on the delicate designs of the ivory coffered ceiling. Elaborate surrounds, equally decorated with gilding, framed each of the paintings, which had been cleaned and newly restored. By daylight she could see that the marble mantels of the fireplaces had caryatid supports, and she hoped the earl wasn’t offended at her remarks of yesterday. These caryatids were in exceptional taste, however. She suspected his questions yesterday were simply to draw her out—or tease?—for the saloon gave all the appearance of being done by someone who knew very well what was all the crack in London.
The footmen had assembled a long table taken from some workroom in the house, and now were covering it with white holland linen over a thin padding of some sort. At her approving nod, Peverly straightened even more, if such a thing were possible, pointing out in less-frosty accents than usual that this was also at his direction. “The table was dusty and dark, miss. I made sure you would want not only a clean surface but also a white padded one. Mrs. Peverly always fussed about such, you see.”
“I confess it is more than I hoped to find. Thank you for your care, Peverly. If the men could bring the central tapestry here first, I shall begin with it. I perceive it is the worst damaged.”
The elderly butler cast a scrutinizing look around the area before executing a stiff bow, his bones creaking audibly, departing with the footmen following smartly behind him. Soon she could hear things being moved, calls for another ladder.
A maid entered with a small tray upon which sat a fat brown teapot that Vanessa recognized as a fine example of the local Rockingham ceramics. In the shape of a peach, the amusing pot was filled from a hole in the bottom. Nodding to the girl to place the tray on a small satinwood table, Vanessa applied herself to a cup of tea and the tiny cakes with it.
Taking the cup and saucer with her to one of the tall windows, she sipped as she gazed off into the parkland flowing south from the house. Sitting on a rise, the house commanded a fine view of the greens, a remarkable fountain that she must be certain to see more closely, and the lush forest in the distance. It was quite an improvement from the gray mist which had blanketed the area upon her arrival.
Judging from the manner in which the trees bent and swayed, a brisk wind was blowing. She could make out the figure of the Earl of Stone in the distance as he rode across a field with Mr. Millbank at his side. There was no mistaking who was who this morning.
A warmth crept into her cheeks as she considered her calamitous entry into her new position. What a way to begin! Not only had she mistaken the earl for his steward, and said perfectly awful things about him, but she had dared to argue with him about his treatment of his young sister! It seemed as though she had been possessed. But it also seemed the earl was a forgiving man. At least there had been no words exchanged when she entered the breakfast room just as he was about to leave with Mr. Millbank. Of course she had not completely forgotten his horrid behavior upon her arrival.
Vanessa had been wary when she discovered he had not left the room as yet. She had awakened early and decided she ought to show her employer she really did know what was proper of one employed to repair tapestries. She was not here as a guest to take her leisure in bed of a morning.
His greeting had been equally proper. “Good morning, Miss Tarleton. I trust you shall have a busy day. If there is anything you need, refer to Peverly . . . or Millbank.” A smile lurked in his eyes as he solemnly bid her good-bye. But, she sighed, he had been distant in his manner and she felt quite put in her place as a needlewoman. Not that it was a terrible position. From what Mrs. Danvers had explained before Vanessa left home, they were considered skilled and important people. Indeed, Woburn Abbey employed two such ladies all the time. It might be possible to graduate from needlewoman to the loftier job of housekeeper if she applied herself. It couldn’t take more than twenty years of diligent work!
The very thought of spending all those years in hard servitude was depressing. A housekeeper literally ruled the house, except for the area covered by the house steward. It was up to her to keep the linens in order, do the regular sewing, the preserving and sweet-making, among a great many other tasks. The vision of Mrs. Murdoch at work in the stillroom on the confectionery that seemed in far too great abundance brought Lady Juliana to mind.
Lady Juliana had yet to appear on the scene this morning. Apparently she remained in her room with her hot chocolate and rolls rather than face her brother this early in the day. Upon arising, Vanessa had dug into her things to find her recipes for the healing lotions and applications for skin, plus the tisanes to be drunk to promote improved digestion and a lessening of hunger. Later she would seek out Mrs. Murdoch and find out precisely what herbs might be found in the stillroom. That lady was not to be seen at this hour. No doubt she was occupied in handing out supplies for the day or working at her accounts.
The bustle at the entry to the saloon brought Vanessa’ s attention to the doorway to discover the enormous tapestry being carefully carried to the worktable. Dust filtered into the air, making her long to give the tapestry a good shake out-of-doors. One didn’t treat priceless, fragile things like that, however, and she decided she might try a tender brushing to remove some of the accumulated residue of many years.
Nodding with approval at the superior care the footmen gave the tapestry, she then dismissed them all, smiling with gratitude at the elderly butler as he moved to the doorway. “Thank you, Peverly. I can see this household is in excellent hands.” Her kind words brought a faint smile to crack the stiff facade he usually bore.
Once left to her own devices, Vanessa began to unroll the tapestry to examine it with her lens. It was similar to the odious quizzing glasses she had so despised when she made her come-out in London. This, however, had a neat ivory handle to match other articles in her work-box, and was used for much better purposes than adding to the pretensions of a dandy.
She paused in her inspection. How odd to discover the tapestry was lined. Perhaps it was due to the rather strange lumps, most likely an old form of trapunto, she observed beneath a number of the tapestry birds. Satisfied with this simple explanation, she continued her scrutiny.
She was humming to herself in a quiet manner when she sensed another presence in the room. Glancing up, she found that Mr. Millbank had entered and approached her table with cautious steps.
“I thought I saw you riding out with Lord Stone a while ago.” Vanessa welcomed him with a gracious smile.
“Simply checking on one of the fields to be worked. How does the tapestry look? We are very grateful you were able to assist us in this restoration, Miss Tarleton.”
A faint flush crept over his cheeks as he drew closer to where she worked at examining the weaving. He seemed a nice young man, neat, polite. “I have heard fine things about you from my cousin over the years. He much admired the way you helped him at Blackwood Hall. I would appreciate the benefit of your good advice should you see anything here.” He frowned, considering something at small length, then spoke. “At present we are involved with the restoration and a great many improvements. It is an exciting time for a man interested in new developments. Still, it prevents me from investigating as I would like.” He briefly thought again, then added proudly, “Lord Stone is much taken with the latest improvements. I daresay you’ll not find a fire engine or arrangement for bringing water to the house that is more advanced than what we have here.”
“A fire engine? How wonderful! I’ll confess I have a great fear of fire.” Vanessa had noted with delight there was a water closet in her dressing room. Also, it appeared from the stubs of pipes concealed behind a screen that plans existed to bring water up to the room as well—a vast improvement over carrying water up in pails that could easily spill on the way. Though she had visited in a few great houses over the years, this was the first time she had found so convenient an arrangement in her dressing room. “The, er, facilities in my dressing room are quite fine. I can see where the earl is a true progressive.”
“He is a good man to work for, indeed. Demanding, yet fair.” Mr. Millbank edged closer to the table where she bent over the weaving to add, “I wish to repeat how pleased I, er, we are you came. I know something of the circumstances that faced you at Blackwood Hall. I am glad you decided to come to us.”
Vanessa raised her head to stare out one of the windows, noting the tossing branches of a tall oak as she did. “I suppose Lord Stone knows as well?” she inquired in a flat, low voice.
“Yes.” He made no attempt to soften his reply. Indeed, there was no reason why he should. Yet she felt it keenly, the knowledge that her circumstances were known and perhaps speculated over by others. Especially the earl. For some reason, that bothered her the most.
“His father died two years ago, his brother as well, I believe.” She felt compelled to know more about the man who employed her. Mr. Hunt had been discreet in the extreme.
“Yes. Both were killed in a boating incident. A sudden storm blew up; their boat capsized. It was a great tragedy.”
“Mr. Hunt mentioned that Lady Stone died many years ago. How did they manage with Lady Juliana? She is such an appealing, unaffected girl. Surely someone must have had the care of her?”
Vanessa felt a stirring of sympathy for the young Nicholas, motherless, going his own way for so long, then assuming control of the nearly bankrupt estate and a young sister as well. Still, he ought to have paid more attention to Lady Juliana.
“Her governess remained for some time until called home to tend her dying mother. Somehow, another governess was never found. What Lady Juliana needs at present is a companion. I hope you will not object if she seeks you out when you are not working on the tapestries. It gets very lonely for her here, and Lord Stone is much occupied with the improvements.”
“I shall welcome her whenever Lady Juliana seeks to spend time with me.” Vanessa considered taking Millbank into her confidence regarding the plans made to help Lady Juliana improve her looks, then decided perhaps it would test his loyalty to Lord Stone too far.
Shifting to something else that had occupied her on her journey north, she asked, “While in London I spent quite a sum of money purchasing yarns with which to mend the tapestries. Shall I be reimbursed for that?” She loathed asking, almost begging, for the money, yet if he knew her circumstances, he also knew she had few shillings to spare.
“But of course. Tell me the amount, and it shall be repaid at once.” He was all brisk business, the trustworthy steward to the hilt.
She smiled at the indignant tone of his voice. Although she had dealt with anxious tradesmen when funds were low and Mr. Hunt elsewhere, it was new for her to be seeking funds. She’d survive this and other indignities as well, she supposed. Aunt Agatha would say it was good for her soul. “Thank you, Mr. Millbank.” She flashed him an appreciative smile, dismissing the kindling gleam in his eyes as a mere trick of light.
She turned back to the tapestry, not intending to rebuff Mr. Millbank, but feeling it imperative she keep at her job. “There are several areas here that are quite damaged, I suspect. I believe I can effectively repair them. Tell his lordship I feel it is not too late, as he had feared.”
“Tell his lordship what?” The hearty voice from the entryway caused Mr. Millbank to quickly draw back from the table where he leaned over to examine the area Vanessa pointed out.
Her mouth dropped open slightly as she beheld the apparition that stood grinning at her from the door. And this was the man so concerned with propriety? “Milord?”
“Look the very devil, I expect. Had a bit of a run-in with a very determined animal.” His grin was infectious. Vanessa found herself looking at him with an answering twinkle in her eyes. A smile hovered over her lips but refused to allow itself to settle.
Vanessa expected him to mention a wild dog at the very least, when she noticed a bundle of white fur cradled in his arms. She rose, crossing over to where he stood, wary at the light in his midnight eyes, unable to decipher their depths. “What is it?”
As she bent over the mass of dirty white fur, a paw equipped with sharp claws reached out to bat at the lappet of her mobcap. She hadn’t bothered to tie it just to work quietly at the tapestry. Now, snagged in a set of claws, it slid off her head and a tangle of golden hair cascaded down and over her shoulder. Her hands flew up to rescue her hair, but it was too late. As she gave a narrow look at the animal, two eyes opened, one golden, one green.
Lord Stone’s voice was amused. “I suspect the cat is considered bad luck in the village, with those strange eyes. I found some lads beating it with sticks as I left to come home.”
Vanessa immediately forgave the disaster with her cap. “Poor thing. Perhaps I may have it?” She held out her arms, a pleading expression in the now-turbulent sea-blue eyes.
The familiar stirring that had come over Nicholas last night hit him again as he beheld the very feminine woman before him, her eyes so soft, hair in magnificent disarray. She was more beautiful than she ought to be, given her penniless state. His glance slid over to where Millbank also stared as though turned to a statue at the sight of the spun gold that fell in such a tangle. So that was the way of it, was it? Nicholas pushed aside the annoyance that surged up within him.
Vanessa noted the annoyance that briefly flashed over Lord Stone’s handsome face. Assuming it to be a reaction to her disheveled state, she attempted to smooth back her hair with one hand as she stroked the cat with her other.
“I must apologize, milord. I will contrive to manage my own hair in time, but my maid was always so capable. I do miss her help. In the meantime, I hide it beneath this cap, you see.” Her expression was a mixture of embarrassment and rueful apology.
He shook his head in dismay that this elegant lady should be reduced to doing for herself because of her father’s wildly extravagant living. Nicholas handed her the cat, then impulsively gathered the mass of spun gold in his hands, as he had secretly longed to do from the moment he saw it, tucking it beneath and into the cap that had hung crazily from one shoulder all the while.
