The Arrangement (18 page)

Her smile was gracious if not precisely warm.

I said, “Thank you, Lady Regina. It is kind of you to have me.”

“Do you think we might go inside?” Savile said.

The smile his sister gave him was much warmer than the one she had given me. “I think we might manage that, Raoul.” As the three of us started walking toward the front door she looked around. “I take it that my boys have already kidnapped your son, Mrs. Saunders.”

“Yes, Lady Regina. They took him off to the nursery.”

She chuckled. “Their noses are out of joint because Harriet’s girls are here. I only hope the boys don’t plot anything too grisly to make their disapproval felt.”

She did not sound overly worried.

“They had better not,” the earl said. “The Melville girls seem to be quiet, timid little things. I don’t want them to be upset or frightened, Ginny.”

I thought of Harriet and her father. “Timid?” I said.

“Harriet’s probably knocked all the spirit out of them,” Lady Regina said cynically. “She doesn’t care about her daughters. All she wants is a son so that she can hang on to Devane Hall.”

“Well, there is still the possibility that she may get one,” Savile said.

“I know you will be devastated to hear this, Raoul,” Lady Regina said, “but Mr. Cole has been called away to London on business.”

“Oh, what a shame,” the earl said with a mixture of amusement and relief. “We must say a prayer that his business is time-consuming, Ginny. Harriet is much more pleasant when her father is not around to stir up all her grievances.”

The relief I felt at this piece of news was enormous. I wouldn’t put it past Albert Cole to call Nicky a bastard to his face.

We stood for a moment longer in the middle of the Great Hall while Savile and his sister consulted about bedroom arrangements, and I looked at the immense stone fireplace, which was even more fabulous than I had remembered, and registered my relief about the absence of Mr. Cole.

“I told Mrs. Ferrer to get the blue end bedroom ready for Mrs. Saunders,” I heard the earl say to his sister.

She didn’t answer, but the words must have produced some kind of a reaction because something about her body posture caught my immediate attention. After a rather long pause she said, “All right, Raoul. I will ask Mrs. Ferrer to show her up now.”

He nodded. “Luncheon will be in half an hour, Mrs. Saunders, and then I would like to show you the castle grounds.”

“Very well, my lord,” I replied slowly, still trying to puzzle out what had caught my attention about Lady Regina.

The earl’s sister told a footman to summon the housekeeper, who appeared in less than two minutes. I followed her up the great, almost theatrical-looking Jacobean staircase, with its open well formed by arched Ionic columns and its mythological figures worked in grisaille along the wall. We walked through Raoul the Seventh’s gloriously carved Renaissance Great Chamber, then took the route that was familiar to me from my previous visit. This time, however, we did not stop at the middle of the bedroom passageway, but continued on to the very end, where Mrs. Ferrer opened the last door on the left before a narrow set of carpeted stairs at the hall’s end.

I noted the stairs with pleasure. Due to the nature of my parents’ death, I always looked for an escape route when I stayed in an unfamiliar place.

This room was half again as large as the bedroom I had occupied on my earlier visit, and although the drapes and the bed hangings were several degrees less faded, there was nothing else about the room that suggested to me the reason for Lady Regina’s reaction.

For Lady Regina did not approve of my being given this room; of that I was quite certain.

My eyes went slowly around the bedroom, taking in the carved four-poster with its blue tapestry hangings, the mahogany writing table with its handles made to look like brass lion-head masks, the mahogany cheval glass, the pair of gilt beechwood chairs with blue velvet upholstery on either side of the coal-burning fire, and the large, carved wardrobe against the east wall.

At this moment a footman came in carrying my pitiful-looking portmanteau. Behind him came a chambermaid carrying a jug of hot water.

The footman put down my baggage and the chambermaid poured the hot water into the porcelain bowl on my bedside stand.

“There is a rather small dressing room and a water closet through that door, ma’am,” the maid said, nodding to the door near the middle of the west wall of the room. “Due to the size of the dressing room, I am afraid that your clothing will have to be hung in the wardrobe in this room. Would you like me to unpack for you now?”

“Yes,” I said quietly, “that would be nice.”

I let the maid hang up my clothes, and when she volunteered to take a few of my dresses to have them ironed, I agreed. After she left, I looked at the three dresses that were left hanging in the wardrobe.

The sight was depressing in the extreme. My clothing, which was barely adequate for the social amenities of life in a small village, was woefully inadequate for the demands of a country-house visit.

I told myself that I didn’t mind, but I did. No woman likes to appear at a disadvantage, and I knew that both Harriet and Lady Regina would regard my unfashionable wardrobe with scorn.

I could tolerate Lady Regina’s disdain more easily than I could Harriet’s.

“Oh well, there’s nothing I can do about it,” I said aloud, trying to sound offhand. “As long as Nicky is happy, I must be content.”

I didn’t bother to change my brown cambric traveling dress, as I had nothing better to wear, but I washed the travel grime from my face and hands and combed my hair in front of the cheval glass. Then I went downstairs to luncheon.

* * * *

I met John Melville in the Great Hall and he came to shake my hand and welcome me to Savile Castle. His smile looked genuine and his brown eyes held what appeared to be admiration as he looked into my face.

I appreciated the look; it fed my badly faltering self-confidence.

“Rotten luck, losing your lease like that, Mrs. Saunders,” he said. “Don’t worry though, I shall find you something even better, I promise.”

“I should be so grateful if you could, Mr. Melville,” I replied. “My late husband found Deepcote for us, and I’m afraid I haven’t the smallest idea of how to start looking on my own.”

The warmth of his smile increased. “Don’t worry,” he repeated. “Are you going in to luncheon, Mrs. Saunders?”

“Yes, I am.”

“It is always laid out in the family dining room,” he said. “May I escort you?”

“That would be very nice,” I said, and the two of us began to walk slowly across the Great Hall.

“Do you have an office in the house, Mr. Melville?” I asked as we passed through the music room, with its black-and-white marble tile floor.

On my previous visit Lady Regina had told me that the music room had originally been used for occasional banquets, plays, and entertainments, and also as a dining hall for servants. Today it took its name from the harpsichord, pianoforte, and two harps that stood in each of its four corners. There was a modern Egyptian-style sofa placed along one of the walls, and four Egyptian-style chairs flanked the opposite wall, presumably for the comfort of listeners.

“I have my office at the top of the Constable’s Tower,” John Melville answered me.

I turned to him with a smile. He was not a particularly tall man, but I am not particularly tall either, and I had to look up to meet his eyes. “What wonderful views you must have,” I enthused.

He grinned. “That’s why I chose it. I spent most of my boyhood summers here at the castle, and I love it dearly. I can never get enough of the sight of the walls reflected in the still, clear lake water on a summer’s day.”

“The castle seems to be some sort of summer refuge for boys,” I said with a laugh.

“My aunt and uncle always had a kindness for children,” John Melville said. “And Raoul, of course, draws them like a magnet.”

“Does he?” I asked curiously.

By now we were passing through the drawing room, which Lady Regina had told me had originally been called the King James dining room, since it was the room where King James (along with other royal visitors) had dined. A life-size bronze statue of the king, placed there when the house was built, still surveyed the room from the auspices of another great Jacobean chimneypiece. On the opposite side of the room was a huge portrait of Savile’s grandfather who, in the preceding century, had turned the room from a state dining room for royal visits into a drawing room.

“Yes,” John Melville said, referring back to my question about Savile. “It is a thousand pities that he has no children of his own.”

“I am surprised that he has not married again,” I said.

“Considering that during the last six years Ginny has thrown every eligible young lady in the
ton
into his path, it can be nothing short of a miracle that he has not married again,” John Melville returned with a soft laugh.

“He must have loved his wife very much,” I said.

“He was exceedingly in love with her,” John Melville replied. “So much so that I doubt he will ever remarry.”

By now we had passed through the formal dining room and entered the breakfast room.

The first person I saw as I came in the door was Harriet. She was wearing a bronze silk afternoon dress that made her skin look sallow and, since she was seated, I could not get a good look at her figure. Her normal stoutness probably masked her condition anyway, I thought meanly.

She scowled when she saw me. “Well, well, look who is here,” she said in a tone I can only describe as nasty. “It’s Mrs. Saunders.”

She made
Saunders
sound as if it were a barnyard word.

I stared directly into her eyes, and after a moment she shifted her eyes back and forth and then looked away. With a flash of intuition, I wondered if Harriet thought that I was a witch too.

If she was indeed laboring under the delusion, I thought delightedly, then perhaps I could make use of it.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Saunders,” said a light, faintly amused voice, and I turned to look into the eyes of Roger Melville. Clearly, he had seen the same thing in Harriet’s face as I had. “I am so glad you have come,” he continued. “This family party stands in crying need of a little enlivening.”

Lady Regina said repressively, “Mrs. Saunders is here so that her son can be a companion for Charlie and Theo, Roger.”

“Of course, Ginny,” Roger said, and the malicious glint in his blue eyes was very pronounced. Of course, I understood that Roger had no reason to love Harriet, but I most certainly did not want him to use me as a pawn to annoy her. I shot him a repressive look.

At that moment, Savile walked into the room. He looked from where his family was seated around the table to where I stood empty-handed next to the sideboard. “Why are you not eating, Mrs. Saunders?” he said. “We had a long ride in the open air this morning. I know that I am starving.”

John Melville handed me a plate. “We’ve only just got here ourselves, Raoul. I was recommending that Mrs. Saunders take some of the cold fowl.”

I smiled at him. “That sounds very nice, Mr. Melville.”

One of the three footmen standing beside the sideboard cut me a piece of the aforementioned duck, which I took to a seat at the table as far away from Harriet as I could possibly get. Savile piled his plate high and came to take the place next to mine.

“While you were gone I had more complaints about the miller, Raoul,” John Melville said as everyone resumed eating. “This time it was Henderson who came to see me. You might want to talk to Jarvis yourself when you get a chance.”

All the good humor disappeared from Savile’s face. “I will speak to him this afternoon,” he said. He looked at me. “Perhaps Mrs. Saunders will come with me, which will give me a chance to show her some of the countryside.”

“Very well,” John Melville said.

Everyone else was silent.

“Perhaps Nicky would like to come with us, my lord,” I said brightly.

“Nicky will do much better with my nephews,” Savile said calmly. He cut a piece of roast beef off the slice on his plate, put it in his mouth, and began to chew. He looked thoughtful.

I sneaked a peak at Lady Regina. She looked resigned. When she saw me looking at her, the look of resignation changed into a restrained smile.

“The grounds are well worth looking at, Mrs. Saunders,” she assured me.

“I am looking forward to it,” I said faintly. I ate another small bite of my cold fowl.

Lady Regina began to tell her brother about a letter she had received from her husband that morning, and we all listened politely to the list of dissertations that had been presented in Heidelberg on the subjects of astronomy and mathematics. It was very impressive, if incomprehensible.

Fifteen minutes later, Savile turned to me and smiled.

“The phaeton will be at the front door in ten minutes, Mrs. Saunders,” he said. “I’ll meet you in the front hall.”

I stood up. “Very well, my lord.”

I excused myself from the luncheon party with what I hoped was composure and went upstairs to don my bonnet and gloves.

Savile was waiting at the foot of the staircase, and as he turned to smile up at me I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was lost.

How had this happened? I asked myself in bewilderment as I walked beside him out to the phaeton. How had this one man, whom I had seen but a few times over the course of the last five months, managed to turn my world upside down?

I should never have come here. I had no business being here. I had known that, and yet I had let him persuade me. I, who prided myself on my independence, had allowed myself to be packed up like a child being hustled home from a school where there has been an outbreak of typhus.

I knew why I had done it.

I also knew that I had been wrong, but I doubted that I was going to change my mind.

“Why so pensive?” Savile asked. We had reached the phaeton and were standing together next to the passenger’s side. “Are you still worried about Nicky?”