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They entered another hallway, and Ross had no idea where they were.
‘This is the laundry wing.’ She led him to a door that opened on to the stairway hall, but before stepping into the hall, she placed her sketchbook just inside the secret passage.
‘Genna!’ her sister called again, her voice coming from the floor above.
‘We are here!’ Genna replied, closing the door which looked nearly invisible from this side. ‘At the bottom of the stairs.’
Her sister hurried down the stairs, Dell at her heels. ‘Where have you been? We have been searching for you this half-hour!’
Genna sounded all innocence. ‘I was showing Lord Rossdale the house. We just finished touring the laundry wing.’
‘The laundry wing!’ Lady Tinmore cried. ‘What nostalgia did you have for the laundry wing?’
‘None at all,’ Genna retorted. ‘I merely thought it would interest Lord Rossdale.’
‘I assure you, it did interest me,’ Ross replied as smoothly as his companion. ‘I am always interested in how other houses are run.’
Dell tossed him a puzzled look and Ross shook his head to warn his friend not to ask what the devil he was about.
‘Never mind.’ Genna’s sister swiped the air impatiently. ‘The weather has turned dreadful. Jeffers has called for the carriage. We must leave immediately.’
Genna sobered and nodded her head. ‘Of course.’
Jeffers appeared with their cloaks and Ross hurriedly helped Genna into hers. As they rushed to the front door and opened it, a footman, his shoulders and hat covered with snow, was climbing the stairs.
‘The coachman says he cannot risk the trip,’ the footman said, his breath making clouds at his mouth. ‘The weather prevents it.’
They looked out, but there was nothing to see but white.
‘Oh, no!’ Lady Tinmore cried.
Genna put her hands on her sister’s shoulders and steered her back inside. ‘Do not worry, Lorene. This could not have been helped.’
‘We should have left earlier,’ she cried.
‘And you would have been caught on the road in this,’ Dell said. ‘And perhaps stranded all night. We will make you comfortable here. I will send a messenger to Lord Tinmore as soon as it is safe to do so.’
‘We will have to spend the night?’ Lorene asked.
‘It cannot be helped,’ Genna said to her. ‘We will have to spend the night.’
Chapter Four (#u4effa6c4-5cae-55ce-a353-1c7099a2e2a9)
The lovely evening was over.
Although Lord Penford had tea brought into the drawing room, Lorene’s nerves and Penford’s coolness spoiled Genna’s mood. Lorene was worried, obviously, about what Lord Tinmore would say when they finally returned and who knew why Penford acted so distantly to them? Why had he invited them if he did not want their company? Had he done so out of some sense of obligation? Even so, it was Lord Tinmore who’d compelled them to accept the invitation and she and Lorene certainly had not caused it to snow.
Not that it mattered. If Tinmore wished to ring a peal over their heads, reason would not stop him.
All the enjoyment had gone out of the evening, though.
Lord Penford poured brandy for himself and Rossdale and sat sullenly sipping from his glass while Rossdale and Genna made an effort to keep up conversation. With no warning Penford stood and announced he was retiring for the night. Rossdale was kind enough to keep Genna and Lorene company until the housekeeper announced that their bedchambers were ready. At that point they also felt they must say goodnight.
The housekeeper led them upstairs. ‘We thought you might like to spend the night in your old rooms, so those are what we prepared for you.’
‘Thank you,’ Lorene said.
Genna gave the woman whom she’d known her whole life a hug. ‘Yes, thank you. You are too good to us.’
The older woman hugged her back. ‘We’ve found clean nightclothes for you, as well. Nellie and Anna will help you.’ Nellie and Anna had served as their ladies’ maids before they’d moved.
They bade the housekeeper goodnight and Genna entered her bedchamber for the second time that night. At least now there was a fire in the grill and a smiling old friend waiting for her.
‘How nice it is that you can stay the night,’ Anna said. ‘In your old room. Like old times.’
‘It is grand!’ Genna responded.
Anna helped her out of her dress and into a nightgown.
‘Come sit and I’ll comb out your hair,’ Anna said.
Genna sat at her old familiar dressing table and gazed in her old familiar mirror. ‘Tell me,’ she said after a time. ‘What are the servants saying about Lord Penford?’
Anna untied the ribbon in her hair. ‘We are grateful to him. He kept most of us on and we did not expect that. He does seem angry when he learns of some new repair to the house, but his anger is never directed at the servants.’
‘He must be angry at my father, then,’ Genna said. Did his anger extend to the daughters, too? That might explain why he was so unfriendly.
‘I suppose you are right.’ She pulled out Genna’s hairpins and started combing out the tangles. ‘He paid us our back wages, you know.’
Genna glanced at her in the mirror. ‘Did he? How good of him.’
Paying their back wages was certainly something Lord Penford could have avoided if he’d chosen to. What could the servants do if he’d refused to pay them?
Anna gave her a sly grin. ‘Why are you not asking about Lord Rossdale?’
Genna felt her cheeks grow hot. Why would that happen? ‘Lord Rossdale? Whatever for?’
She stopped combing. ‘Is he sweet on you? We were wondering.’
‘He’s not sweet on me!’ Genna protested. ‘Goodness. He’s far beyond my touch. Besides, you know that I’m not full of romantic notions like Lorene and Tess. He knew I wanted to see the house so he asked for a tour.’
‘So he said in the kitchen.’ Anna resumed combing. ‘I am still saying he’s sweet on you.’
Genna stilled her hand and met Anna’s gaze in the mirror. ‘Please do not say so. At least not to anyone else. I admit Lord Rossdale and I do seem to enjoy each other’s company, but it is nothing more than that and I do not want any rumours to start. It would not be fair when he has merely been kind to me.’
Anna shrugged. ‘If you say so.’
As soon as Anna left, Genna started missing her. She missed all these dear people. Now she would have to get used to not seeing them all over again. It was so very depressing.
She stared at the bed, not sleepy one bit. All she’d do was toss and turn and remember when her room looked like her room. She spun around and strode to the door.
Like she’d done so many times when she was younger, she crossed the hallway to Lorene’s room and knocked on her door.
‘Come in,’ Lorene said.
Genna opened the door. ‘I came to see how you are faring. You were so upset about the weather and our having to spend the night.’ How the tables had turned. Genna used to run to Lorene for comfort, now it was the other way around.
Lorene lowered herself into a chair. ‘I confess I am distressed. What will he think?’ She did not need to explain who he was. ‘Knowing we are spending the night with two unmarried gentlemen without any sort of chaperon.’
Genna sat on the floor at her feet and took Lorene’s wringing hands in hers. ‘We are home. Among our own servants. And Lord Penford and Lord Rossdale are gentlemen. There is nothing to worry over.’
Lorene gave her a pained look.
Genna felt a knot of anger inside. ‘Will Tinmore...give you a tongue lashing over this?’ Or worse, he might couch his cruelty in oh-so-reasonable words.
Lorene leaned forward and squeezed Genna’s fingers. ‘Do not worry over that! Good heavens, he is so good to us.’
Only when it suited him, though. He liked to be in charge of them.
Well, he might be in charge of Lorene, but Genna refused to give him power over her—even if she reaped the advantages of his money. She could not escape admitting that.
She smiled at Lorene. ‘Let us enjoy our time back in our old rooms, then. Back home. Does it not feel lovely to be here?’
Lorene pulled her hands away and swept a lock of hair away from her face. ‘I cannot enjoy it as you do, now that it is no longer our home.’
Genna secretly agreed. She did not enjoy seeing the rooms empty of any signs of her sisters or brother or herself, but she’d never admit it to Lorene. The best part of the house tour had been showing Rossdale the secret passages; the rest merely made her sad, just as Lorene had anticipated.
Genna stood. ‘I love being back. I’m glad we can stay. I’ll sleep in my old bed. I’ll wake to sun shining in my windows. Cook will make us our breakfast again. It will be delightful.’
Lorene rose, too, and walked to the window. ‘We had better hope the sun shines tomorrow.’ She peeked out. ‘It is still snowing.’
Genna gazed out on to the familiar grounds, all white now. ‘We must not worry about tomorrow until it comes.’ She turned to Lorene. ‘How did you and Lord Penford fare while we toured the house?’
Lorene averted her face. ‘I played the pianoforte.’
‘We heard,’ Genna said. ‘You learned to play on that piano. How nice you were able to play on it again.’
‘Yes,’ Lorene replied unconvincingly. ‘Nice.’
Cheering up Lorene was not working at all. It was merely making Genna feel wretched. ‘Well, I believe I will go back to my room and snuggle up in my old bed. You’ve no idea how I’ve yearned to do so.’
Even if she feared she’d merely toss and turn.
She bussed her sister on the cheek and walked back to the room where she’d slept for years, ever since she’d left the nursery.
But once in the room, she found it intolerable. She paced for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do. Finally she made up her mind. She picked up a candle from the table next to her bed and carried it to the hidden door. She opened the door and entered the passageway.
She made her way downstairs and to the space where she’d left her sketchbook. As she picked it up and turned to go back to her room, the light from another candle approached. Her heart pounded.
‘Miss Summerfield.’ It was Lord Rossdale.
He came closer and smiled. ‘I came to pick up your sketchbook. I see you had the same notion. I am glad you decided to keep it.’
She clutched it to her chest. ‘I have not decided to keep it. I just wished to look at it in my room. I cannot take it back with me. It is too big to conceal and I do not wish to cause any problems.’
‘I am certain Dell would wish you to have it,’ he said.
She could not believe that. Even so, Lorene would probably worry about her taking it out of the house. ‘I do not wish to ask him or to have my sister know. She would not like him bothered.’ Genna was certain Lorene would not wish her to ask anything of Lord Penford.
Rossdale did not move, though, and the corridor was too narrow for Genna to get past him.
‘Enjoy the book tonight, then,’ he said finally. ‘Come, I’ll walk you back to your room.’
She laughed softly. ‘More like you want me to show you the way so you do not become lost.’
He grinned. ‘I am found out.’
He flattened himself against the wall so she could get by, but she still brushed against him and her senses heightened when they touched.
How strange it was to react so to such a touch. She did not understand it at all.
And she dared not think about it too much.
* * *
The next morning did indeed begin with the sun pouring in Genna’s bedroom window. For a moment it seemed as if the last year had never happened. That was, until her gaze scanned the room.
Still, she refused to succumb to the blue devils. Instead she bounded from the bed and went to the window. Her beloved garden was still covered in snow, not only sparkling white, but also showing shades of blue and lavender in the shadows. The sky was an intense cerulean, as if it had been scrubbed clean of clouds during the night, leaving only an intense blue.
Genna opened the window and leaned out, gulping in the fresh, chilled air, relishing the breeze through her hair, billowing under her nightdress to tingle her skin.
‘It is a lovely day!’ she cried.
On a rise behind the house, a man riding a horse appeared. A grey horse and a grey-coated man.
Lord Rossdale.
He took off his hat and waved to her.
Imagine that he should see her doing such a silly thing. In her nightdress, no less! Perhaps he had heard her nonsense, as well.
She laughed and waved back before drawing back inside and shutting the window. She sat at her small table and turned the pages of her old sketchbook, remembering when life was more pleasant here.
Unfortunately, some of her drawings also reminded her of unhappy times. Hearing her father bellow about how much his daughters cost him, or rail against her mother who’d deserted them when Genna was small. Then there were the times when he’d consumed too many bottles from the wine cellar and she’d hidden from him. Her drawings during those times were sombre, rendered in charcoal and pencil, all shadowy and fearful.
Most of the pages, though, were filled with watercolours. Playful scenes that included her sisters and brother. Sunny skies, green grasses, flowers in all colours of the rainbow.
Her technique had been hopelessly childish, but, even so, her emotions had found their way on to the paper. The charcoal ones, obviously sad. The watercolours, happy and carefree.
