The Arrangement (9 page)

“Where do you live, then, Mrs. Saunders?”

“In Surrey,” I said, “in a town called Highgate.”

I was quite certain that Highgate would mean nothing to her, and from the small frown between her brows I saw that I was right.

“I wonder, how did my brother know you were named in my cousin’s will?” came the next question.

“I understand your brother is Lord Devane’s executor,” I replied. “One would expect him to know something about the contents of the will.”

“Well, he never said anything about it to me!” This was obviously a sore point with Lady Regina.

The passageway turned to the right and we entered what was apparently one of the bedroom wings. We walked halfway down the hall, past at least six closed doors, until finally Lady Regina stopped in front of one, turned the latch, and pushed it open.

“Good,” she said. “I thought this room would be ready.”

I followed the earl’s sister into an utterly charming room. It had a wide window with diamond-shaped glass, under which was a comfortable-looking window seat. The four-poster was covered with a faded gold tapestry spread, which matched the faded gold canopy over the bed. The floor was covered by a deeply colored rug that had come from the Orient. There was a wonderful blast of warmth coming from the coal fire in the fireplace.

There was a partially open door set in the middle of the wall to the right.

“The dressing room is through that door,” Lady Regina told me. “Shall I send one of the maids to unpack for you, Mrs. Saunders?”

“No, thank you, Lady Regina. I am accustomed to doing for myself.”

Lady Regina did not look at all surprised by this revelation. “Hot water will be coming momentarily. Dinner is in an hour and a half. I will send a footman to show you the way to the drawing room.”

“Thank you,” I said, and stood in the middle of the floor, hands clasped in front of me, waiting for her to leave. When finally the door closed behind her, I let out a long, slow breath and went to sit in the window seat, my mind awhirl.

Once, I had thought Devane Hall was the height of luxury. But Devane Hall was like a peasant’s cottage compared to this place.

I did not want even to contemplate what the Earl of Savile must have thought of my ramshackle establishment.

Then I thought defiantly,
Why the devil should I care what the Earl of Savile might think?

Another thought struck me, and I grinned.
Don’t become too awestruck, Gail. Remember, you had the owner of this magnificent pile painting your extra bedroom!

* * * *

My portmanteau was delivered and I unpacked it in my dressing room, which contained a modern dressing table made of rosewood banded by yellow satin wood, a large rosewood wardrobe with brass knobs in the form of lion masks, and a brass-trimmed cheval glass. I washed my face and hands in the hot water that Mrs. Ferrer had provided and scrutinized my silk evening dress, thankful to see that it had collected a minimum of wrinkles. I hung it up in the wardrobe, put on my dressing gown, and went to sit in the window seat and look out at the snow.

Tonight I would meet George’s wife for the first time. Of course, she was not his wife any longer, I corrected myself. Now she was his widow.

I knew that my hatred of Harriet Melville was irrational. It was not her fault that George had married her for her money. But strong emotions are never rational, and I did hate her.

I had been delighted when her three children turned out to be girls.

Was this petty? Yes, it was.

Was this un-Christian? Yes, it was.

Was this honest? Yes, it was.

Was I looking forward to seeing her face when George’s bequest to Nicky was read out by the solicitor? Yes, I was.

I looked at the clock on the mantel and realized that I had better get dressed if I was to be ready when the footman came to fetch me.

I put on my evening dress and sat at the dressing table, thinking about what I might do with my hair. I had few options, as I kept it cut short and close to my head. In the end I just threaded a blue velvet ribbon through my feathery curls and fastened my only jewelry, my mother’s small, diamond drop earrings.

When I looked at myself in the full-length mirror I thought I looked presentable.

The footman, a tall young man in the blue and gold livery of the Earl of Savile, arrived. He led me back down the bedroom passageway, through the small parlors and the ballroom, down the stairs into the Great Hall, through what appeared to be the music room, and into a splendid-looking formal drawing room done all in pale blue damask, where a group of people were gathered before the coal fire.

“Mrs. Saunders! Do come in,” said Lady Regina, advancing to meet me. She took my hand in a friendly way and began to draw me forward.

The earl was standing with his shoulders against the wall next to the ornate fireplace and he gave me a nod and a pleasant, “I hope you have recovered from the rigors of our journey, Mrs. Saunders.”

I looked at him. He was wearing evening dress: white shirt and neckcloth, perfectly fitted black coat, and tight-fitting black trousers. He smiled at me but his eyes looked somber.

“Yes, thank you, my lord,” I replied, “I have.”

“Allow me to introduce you to my cousin Lady Devane,” Lady Regina said next, and I turned to look at the woman seated in a Sheraton chair at a little distance from the fire.

The first thing I noticed was that she was rather stout. The second thing I noticed was that the corners of her eyes drooped oddly, as if she were fatigued. The third thing I noticed was that she was looking at me with undisguised suspicion.

“Saunders?” she said to me. “Are you any connection to Squire Saunders from Hatfield?”

I could feel Lady Regina snap to attention next to me.

“I am his daughter-in-law,” I returned with dignity. “Or rather, I was his daughter-in-law. My husband died some six years ago.”

Her brows, which were thick and sandy-colored and looked like twin caterpillars, drew together. “Good God, you must be the witch’s brat who married the squire’s youngest son!” she blurted.

By now everyone in the room was staring at me.

Savile said coldly, “Witch’s brat? What on earth are you talking about, Harriet?”

George’s widow turned to look at him. “There is this extremely odd woman who lives in Hatfield, Savile. All the locals think she is some kind of a witch and go to her for everything from medicines to love potions. She used to have two nieces living with her,” her strange, dark eyes swung back to me, “and evidently this is one of them.”

“My aunt is an herbalist, Lady Devane,” I said, and even I could hear the contempt in my voice as I spoke her name. “Only ignorant persons could possibly confuse an herbal healer with a witch.”

An unattractive red flush suffused Lady Devane’s face.

Before she could reply, however, a harsh-sounding male voice said, “Watch your mouth, missy. You talk that way to my daughter, you got to deal with Albert Cole.”

I lifted my eyes to look at the man who was standing just to the right of Lady Devane’s chair. He appeared to be somewhere in his upper sixties and his clothing proclaimed him to be of the merchant class. His old-fashioned suit was of brown broadcloth, with a full-skirted coat. He was wearing knee breeches with stockings, not the newly fashionable trousers such as were being worn by Savile. His shoes were old-fashioned as well, square-toed and adorned with buckles. Savile’s waistcoat was snowy white; Mr. Cole’s was embroidered with what looked to be an assortment of brightly colored tropical birds.

I stared at the waistcoat in amazement.

“Mrs. Saunders,” Savile said, and I could hear the underlying amusement in his voice as he took in my fascination with Mr. Cole’s waistcoat, “may I present Mr. Albert Cole, Lady Devane’s father.”

I dragged my eyes away from that many-hued garment and met the small, shrewd, light-colored eyes of the man whose money had bought George.

“How do you do, Mr. Cole,” I said in what I hoped was an expressionless voice.

“What’s this Saunders woman doing here, Savile?” Mr. Cole said, ignoring my greeting. “This is a family gathering.”

“Mrs. Saunders is here because she figures in George’s will,” Savile said in a very soft voice.

Shocked silence filled the room.

Then Mr. Cole took a step toward me. His face began to grow very red. “I won’t have it!” he said. “My girl has just lost her husband and I won’t have one of—”

“That is quite enough, Cole,”
Savile said, and his tone stopped Albert Cole dead in his tracks. “Mrs. Saunders is here because it is her legal right to be here and because I invited her. If you do not care for my guests, then
you
may leave.”

“Don’t make a fuss, Papa,” Harriet said in a strained voice.

Lady Regina took my arm and said smoothly, as if nothing uncomfortable had just happened, “Mrs. Saunders, I have not yet presented you to my cousin, Mr. John Melville.”

One of the two men who stood together in front of the fire bowed to me. “Happy to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” he said.

I looked steadily into a nice-looking, unremarkable face and murmured something polite.

“And my other cousin, Mr. Roger Melville, who is the new Lord Devane.”

Devane Hall was entailed, of course, and so Harriet’s girls would not be able to inherit either the title or the property. I looked with interest at the slim, blond young man who would be George’s successor.

He smiled at me. His eyes were as blue as Nicky’s. “So nice to meet you, Mrs. Saunders,” he said.

The butler, Powell, appeared in the doorway and announced that dinner was served.

The earl took in Lady Devane, the new Lord Devane took in Lady Regina, and Mr. John Melville took in me. Mr. Cole followed behind, his hands behind his back, his face fixed in a scowl.

I foresaw that we were going to have a pleasant dinner and steeled myself for battle.

Large folding doors led from the drawing room directly into a large and splendid dining room. The immensely long mahogany table looked as if it could seat forty people easily. I looked from the table to the painted ceiling, which featured lions among its richly colored scenes, to the two huge crystal chandeliers, to the magnificent display of silver plate on the mahogany sideboard, and knew that my blue evening dress was not equal to the room.

Fortunately, however, the dining room was not prepared for dinner. The gleaming wood surface of the table was naked except for two matching black urns, and the dozens of carved gilt chairs in the room were lined up along the splendidly carved walls.

I took in all of this magnificence in a few quick glances as I accompanied Mr. John Melville across the short side of the dining room and through the door that was directly opposite the doorway through which we had come.

We were now in another dining room, large by my standards but not intimidating like the one we had just passed through. The table in this room was round and supported by a central pillar ending in three great carved paws. The sideboard was made of rosewood with brass inlays, and the display of silver and china reposing upon it was remarkably restrained, considering what I had just beheld.

Fresh flowers, presumably from the earl’s greenhouse, adorned the table, together with place settings of china that bore the lion of Savile against a blue and gold background.

“I am so glad that you purchased this table, Raoul,” Lady Regina remarked as we all took our places. “A round breakfast table is so much cozier for the family than that old mahogany monstrosity Mama used to have in here. After all, the whole point of having a family dining room is so that one can dine informally with one’s family.”

“If I remember correctly, Ginny, it was
you
who purchased this table,” the earl retorted. “My only part in the transaction was to pay the bill.”

Lady Regina did not look at all discomposed. “Well, someone has to look after the inside of this house, Raoul,” she said. “And since you have proven so recalcitrant about acquiring a second wife, of necessity the task must fall to me.”

Savile’s dark gold eyebrows drew together and he said a little irritably, “I am perfectly capable of seeing to my own house.”

“You see to the grounds and the property admirably,” Lady Regina agreed. “Allow me to mention, however, that the withdrawing room needs new draperies, the morning room needs new wallpaper, the…”

Savile held up his hand. “Enough.”

“Ah, the ladies. They always know how to sport the blunt, don’t they, m’lord?” Albert Cole said genially.

I could see the muscles tighten under Lady Regina’s lovely skin. She opened her lips, then shut them together, hard.

The earl shot his sister a look of wicked amusement. When he spoke, however, he proved himself a faithful brother. “Much as I hate to admit it, Ginny is right, Cole. My interests do lie with the land rather than the house.”

I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere, “It seems to me that a round table is extremely appropriate for this house. When I first saw its walls and towers rising out of the snow, I thought I must surely be coming to Camelot.”

The new Lord Devane, who was seated to my left, laughed. “You are thinking of Arthur’s round table, are you, Mrs. Saunders?”

“Yes, my lord, I am.”

He gave me a look of approval. “I had the same feeling myself the first time I came to Savile,” he said, and while the soup was being served he proceeded to regale the table with the amusing tale of his first visit to the castle.

I sat with my soup in front of me, my hands folded in my lap, waiting. On either side of me, the men dipped their spoons into their bowls and began to eat. At this point I realized that grace was not going to be said, so I picked up my spoon and took a sip of the steamy liquid in front of me.

I had just decided that it must be some kind of vegetable soup when the earl, who was seated to my right, murmured softly, “It doesn’t stand up to Mr. Macintosh’s, does it?”

It didn’t, of course.

“It is very good, my lord,” I said politely.