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Elizabeth had imagined her employer to be a semi-invalid, but had begun to realise her mistake. Whatever her illness had been, it was obviously not serious enough to render her unfit for company.
‘Mama found London very tiring also. I think that is why we did not often visit. Papa went up on business a few times a year…’ Her words faltered. It was during one of his business trips that Sir Edwin had ruined himself and his family.
‘Yes, that sorry business was all very sad,’ Lady Isadora said, guessing what had brought that look of pain to her eyes, ‘but you must try to put it behind you now, my dear. You are too young to waste your life in regret. You have come here to be my companion, and I am truly in need of it at the moment, Elizabeth. We both have cause for grief, but we shall find ways to enjoy ourselves. Now that you are here I shall go visiting again…at least I shall in a few days, when I feel better.’ She gave a delicate cough and dabbed her lips with a lavender-scented kerchief. ‘But come and sit with me, Elizabeth. I was about to ask you if you would tell me about yourself before we were interrupted…’
Elizabeth blushed. ‘Does Lord Cavendish often visit you, ma’am?’
‘Hardly at all.’ His mother dismissed her son’s devotion with a wave of her hand. ‘You need not bother your head about him, Elizabeth. Cavendish has his own life and will not interfere with us. We shall live very quietly, entertaining just a few of my old friends…’
Elizabeth was relieved—she was not to know that her employer was sometimes economical with the truth and inclined to paint the picture in her mind rather than reality.
‘Mama and I have lived quietly this past year or so since…’ Elizabeth lifted her head. ‘And of course since she passed away I have been only in the company of Lord and Lady Wentworth.’
‘Ah, yes, it was so kind of Lady Wentworth to spare you to me. I dare say she wished to keep you with her, did she not? Her letter to me was most complimentary, Elizabeth.’
‘Oh, I did not know that she had written…’ Elizabeth was surprised and a little annoyed that her friend had gone so far. ‘Lady Wentworth was a good neighbour and friend to Mama these past twenty years. She wished me to make my home with her, but I could not accept charity. I had made up my mind to seek a position and your letter was most welcome. I hope that I shall be of some real service to you, ma’am.’
‘Well, certainly you will. I am sorely in need of someone to keep me from falling into a fit of the sullens.’ Lady Isadora smiled, hardly looking in need of any such assistance. ‘It was my dear Jane’s birthday just last week and I have felt a trifle off-colour ever since.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Elizabeth said, understanding perfectly that the occasion of her lost child’s birthday must have affected her. ‘Mama and I found Christmas very hard to bear—Papa loved entertaining all his friends and we always had wonderful celebrations at that time.’
‘You understand how I feel as no one else can,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘But we must not be sad, dearest Elizabeth. We shall make plans to entertain our friends—for my friends will all approve of you and so they will become your friends too.’
‘Yes, of course. I shall be happy to help you entertain them, ma’am. You must tell me what my duties are and I shall endeavour to please.’
‘Duties…’ Lady Isadora bit back the words that might have given her away; she thought of Elizabeth as a welcome guest, but did not want her to feel that she was being offered charity. ‘Well, I like to embroider now and then and my silks are for ever tangled. Also I am constantly leaving things behind and need someone to fetch them for me—and when I am feeling lazy I like to lie on my sofa and listen to a pleasant voice reading from one of Cavendish’s books. He has an extensive library, which you must feel free to use as you please—but most of all I need someone to talk to, Elizabeth.’
Elizabeth did not think that her duties sounded very onerous, but she would possibly find others for herself. She had noticed that some of the flowers in the various rooms were falling and had not been renewed for a day or so.
‘I enjoy arranging flowers, if you would like me to do that for you,’ she suggested tentatively.
‘Oh, yes, that is another little task I find too tiring,’ Lady Isadora lied. ‘And the Vicar is always asking me for flowers for the church—you might like to assist him in various ways. He is such a pleasant young man—too young to be alone. His wife died in childbed last year, you know, and the baby with her. It was such a shame, for he doted on her.’
‘That was a tragedy,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I am so sorry to hear of it.’
‘Yes. I liked Amabel,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘She was such a busy woman, always helping others. She visited often and I gave her things for the poor—or the fête. We have a fête each year in August. The Reverend Bell is very keen to help the destitute of other countries as well as our own. A very dedicated young man…though somewhat too serious since his wife died.’
‘He has suffered a great loss,’ Elizabeth said. ‘It must be a constant grief to him.’
‘Yes, poor man.’ Lady Isadora sighed. She had thought at first that her old friend’s daughter might be an ideal replacement for Amabel—at least as a last resort if no eligible gentleman presented himself—but since meeting her she was inclined to think that it would not do. She would wish to look higher for Elizabeth. ‘Well, I think that is quite enough to keep anyone busy, my dear.’
‘Yes, I believe I can make myself useful here,’ Elizabeth said, feeling pleased. In truth, it would not be so very different from the life she had led at home—or that she might have led at Lady Wentworth’s house had she been able to accept her neighbour’s kindness. However, she believed that her employer had fallen into the doldrums because of the anniversary that should have been such a happy one had Jane Cavendish lived. Her duties were light, but she thought that she could find others that would be of some use to her employer. It seemed that she would be quite at home here—providing only that the earl did not visit too often. She believed that she had sensed disapproval in him, and his mockery had pricked her pride. She would be happy to serve Lady Isadora, but hoped that she would not have to meet with the earl more than necessary.
They had been talking for some time when Elizabeth noticed the time, asking, ‘At what hour do we dine, ma’am?’
‘When alone I ask Chef to prepare an early dinner, but when Cavendish is here we dine at six, Elizabeth.’ Lady Isadora looked at the mantel clock, a pretty gilded affair with cast-bronze cherubs and a silvered dial, made in France and a recent gift from her thoughtful son. ‘I think perhaps we should go up for it is half past four and Monsieur Delfarge hates to be kept waiting.’ She laughed delightedly—they had been talking for more than an hour and it seemed no more than a minute. ‘How time flies when one is pleasantly engaged.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Elizabeth nodded her agreement. ‘You have a French chef here?’
‘Oh, yes, Cavendish is meticulous about such things. I am well cared for—though too much alone.’ Lady Isadora made a recover. ‘This is his house, of course. He would not have me remove to the Dower House—he spends much of his time in London or at one of his other estates—but he likes things to be just so when he visits.’
Elizabeth nodded, feeling thoughtful. She had thought the earl a careless son, neglectful of his mother’s feelings, but perhaps she had misjudged him.
She rose to accompany Lady Isadora from the room. ‘Is there anything I may do for you, ma’am?’
‘Oh, no, my dear. My maid will help me dress—but perhaps you will play for us this evening? I believe your mama told me that you play the pianoforte. Cavendish bought a rather fine instrument quite recently. I do not play much myself these days, but I should enjoy listening to you.’
‘I find it a pleasant pastime,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I do not know if you will find me competent, but I shall do my best.’
‘Oh, I am sure you will,’ Lady Isadora said with a vague smile. ‘I remember that Serena had a fine singing voice—do you sing, Elizabeth?’
‘Yes, sometimes, though not of late.’
‘Well, you shall play for us this evening, and perhaps sing another time,’ Lady Isadora said, and on that note they parted, each to their own bedchamber to dress for dinner.
Alone in her room, Elizabeth took stock of her surroundings, knowing it would not take her more than an hour to dress. It was such a comfortable room, with everything that she could want, including an attractive writing desk and chair by the window where she might compose her letters, a stool, wing chair and several small tables and chests, also an impressive armoire for her clothes.
She had two good evening dresses, one of a pale, pearly grey silk, the other a dark blue heavy grosgrain, which she had worn only a few times. It was some time since she had purchased a gown for the evenings, and she had left her older ones behind, believing that two would be sufficient. She went over to the large armoire, thinking that her wardrobe would be lost in its vastness, but when she opened it, she stared in surprise—there were several gowns hanging there that she had never seen before. She took a pretty yellow silk evening gown out to look at it, and was holding it in front of herself to admire it when the door opened and Amy entered.
‘Oh, yes, miss that would suit you well,’ Amy said. ‘I noticed that it was a little long when I put your things away earlier, but it would take no time at all to make a temporary hem and I could do it properly tomorrow.’
‘But I have never seen this gown before,’ Elizabeth told her. ‘It does not belong to me.’
‘Her ladyship told me that she had taken the liberty of buying you one or two things as a welcome gift,’ the girl said with a smile. ‘She said that she wasn’t quite sure of your size, but had ordered them long enough so that we might alter them to fit when you arrived.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Elizabeth had expected that she would be able to choose her own clothes when she was offered a dress allowance. She was not yet ready to wear such bright colours, though there was no denying that the yellow silk was of good quality and in perfect taste. ‘Thank you for explaining, Amy. I don’t think I shall wear this yet—perhaps in a few weeks when I put off my mourning. I shall wear my own grey gown, thank you.’
‘And very elegant it is too, miss,’ Amy said approvingly as she took it out—she liked its simple cut, which she knew would look well on Elizabeth. ‘Would you like me to dress your hair? I could style it a little differently, if you wished.’
‘That is very kind of you,’ Elizabeth said, ‘but I think I will not make a change just yet—perhaps another time.’
‘Yes, Miss Travers.’ Amy made no further comment, though in her opinion the young lady could make more of her best features than she did.
Dressed in the pearl grey gown, Elizabeth fastened a small choker of pearls at her throat. They had been her mother’s gift to her on her last birthday, and she knew they had been her father’s wedding present to his bride. She touched them with her fingers—it made her emotional to wear them, but they would brighten the gown and give her ensemble the something extra she knew it needed.
When Amy left her, Elizabeth went back to the armoire and looked at the other gowns Lady Isadora had ordered for her. She discovered a pretty green-striped morning gown, a deep blue carriage gown, two afternoon gowns, one white and one peach, and another evening dress in white shot with silver. She could not fault her employer’s taste—they were just such as she might have ordered for herself if she had been given another Season in town. However, she thought them a little too smart for a companion and would not have chosen them in her present circumstances. Since Lady Isadora had presented her with them, she decided she would wear them as soon as she felt able.
It wanted twenty minutes to six, but Elizabeth decided to go downstairs rather than remain alone in her room. Lady Isadora had mentioned her son’s library and she was eager to see what she could find that might be suitable to read to her employer in the afternoons, and she might also find something she could bring back to her room to read before she slept.
She stopped to speak to one of the footmen, asking for the direction of the earl’s library and was informed that it was on the ground floor at the rear of the house. She made her way unhurriedly towards it, entering with a feeling of pleasure as she saw that it was a large, long room lined on three sides with impressive mahogany shelves, the windows on the fourth side sufficiently large to let in a good light. There were several sofas and chairs with reading stands close by, and a leather-topped drum table at one end, a square pedestal table at the other. She walked along the length of the shelves, feeling puzzled as she realised that nothing was in order; there were all kinds of literature, estate records, poetry and serious works jumbled up together.
‘It is in rather a mess, is it not?’
Elizabeth jumped as she heard the earl’s voice and turned to look at him. ‘I beg your pardon, sir. I did not hear you come in.’
He ignored her rather flustered address. ‘My father was a great buyer of books, but he had no idea of how they should be stored. I have thought that I would make a start on cataloguing what we have one day, but as yet I have not begun.’
‘I have seen several volumes that would seem to be first editions,’ Elizabeth said, looking thoughtfully at the shelves. ‘How would you wish the books to be arranged, sir—in categories or by author?’
The earl raised his brows, his piercing blue eyes intent on her face. ‘Are you offering to undertake the task, Miss Travers?’
‘It would be a pleasure to at least make a start, though of course it could take many months or even years to complete,’ Elizabeth said, turning her serious eyes on him. ‘But only if I have your approval?’
‘Well, you must not tire yourself,’ the earl said, ‘or my mother will have it that I am a wicked slave driver—but if you have a few moments to spare now and then…’
‘It would be much easier for you if all the estate books were in one section, the serious works on another shelf, for they are perhaps the books you like to read, and then literature and poetry.’
‘You have excellent judgement, Miss Travers. I see that I could do no better than to leave my library in your hands.’
‘Oh…’ She blushed with pleasure, for something in his look had made her heart flutter. ‘If you are sure, it would be such a pleasure to me, sir. Of all things I love books, reading and touching them—and to catalogue such a wonderful collection would be such a treat.’
‘Is it a wonderful collection? I had thought there were a few treasures, but most of it seems a hotchpotch of nonsense.’
‘Oh, no, how could you?’ Elizabeth caught the gleam in his eyes and realised that he was teasing her. ‘But you know there are some rare volumes here, do you not?’
‘Yes, I confess it is one of my interests, and if I were not dreadfully indolent I would have put them in order before this—but I have not been at home often since my return from the Peninsula, you see. And there has been much to see to at our various estates—my father had not been well for a while before his death.’
‘And I dare say you did not like to make sweeping changes to your father’s domain too soon?’
The earl gave her a thoughtful look, his eyes slightly narrowed. ‘You are perceptive, Miss Travers. For one reason or another my father had allowed things to slide. I have improved things gradually, particularly here since this was my mother’s home. She dislikes our estates in Hampshire and Devon, and of course I reside in London for much of the year.’
Elizabeth nodded. She had noticed the changes he had made—they brought a breath of fresh air to the house. ‘I believe you have patronised Mr Adam, sir? I must say that I admire his work greatly.’
‘His work gives a lightness not often found in the design of others—Mr Chippendale is a great furniture maker, but I believe I prefer Mr Adam’s work.’
‘That is my own feeling,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘Lady Wentworth recently began the refurbishment of Worth Hall, you know. We discussed the merits of Mr Sheraton and Mr Adam at length—but in the end she decided that she would choose Mr Adam’s work for the drawing room.’
‘Ah…’ The earl smiled. ‘Then I shall know who to turn to when it comes to persuading Mama that she should have her own apartments refurbished.’
‘Oh, no,’ Elizabeth said, a faint colour in her cheeks. Was he mocking her? Perhaps she had spoken out of turn, forgetting that she was merely an employee? ‘I could not possibly influence Lady Isadora. She has excellent taste.’
‘Yes, she does,’ he agreed. Hearing the longcase clock in the hall strike the hour, he inclined his head to her. ‘We must not keep Mama waiting—or perhaps it would be more precise to say we must not upset Monsieur Delfarge. You must know that he is French and somewhat temperamental. I had to bribe him to come here, for he prefers London, but he obliged me and we must not do anything that would cause him to desert us. Poor Mama suffered with a terrible cook for years.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Elizabeth said and laughed, for he was clearly jesting now. ‘I do understand. My mama had a dreadful cook for some years, too. Papa finally told her that if she did not dismiss her he would go to London and live at his club.’
‘Then you understand why we are all at such pains to be punctual for meals.’ The earl gave her his lazy smile, which unaccountably made Elizabeth’s heart beat rather faster than usual. ‘Tell me, Miss Travers, do you think you shall settle here?’
‘Yes, I believe so, sir,’ she replied. ‘I was very grateful to Lady Isadora for offering me the position as her companion.’
‘Ah, yes,’ the earl said, and mischief lurked in the depth of his eyes. ‘Did you have a good journey down?’
‘Yes…’ Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, and then, ‘It was an odd coincidence…I met and spoke to Mr John Elworthy, who I believe is a friend of yours—and I also saw Sir Montague Forsythe at the inn we had chosen to break our journey. Mr Elworthy had been given one of our rooms, but he gave it up to me and slept in the stables when he learned of the mistake.’
Cavendish nodded. ‘Yes, John would do that. He is one of the best—a perfect gentleman.’
‘You know him well, sir?’ Elizabeth looked at him, her fine brows raised.
‘Certainly. His estate is some fifteen miles from here and we were at school together as lads.’
‘Oh…’ Elizabeth was thoughtful. ‘Mr Elworthy was the only reliable witness to my father’s wager, you know.’
‘Yes, I do know. He has told me of what he saw and heard that day. John says that he wishes he had not heard Sir Edwin’s words so clearly, otherwise he would have believed that your father was trapped into the wager—which would, of course, make it null and void.’
‘It is what I have always believed. Papa would not normally have done anything that foolish. He was not a gambler nor did he drink to excess.’
The earl nodded and looked thoughtful. ‘I dislike Sir Montague Forsythe for reasons which we shall not discuss, and there may come a time when his activities will be under intense scrutiny. I can say no more for the moment—but should his affairs be investigated, I will undertake to see what can be done about your father’s affair.’
They had gained the top of the stairs. Elizabeth stopped to look at him, trying to read his expression and failing. ‘Do you think my father could have been coerced into making that wager, sir?’
‘I cannot tell what may have occurred,’ the earl said. ‘I only know for certain that I believe Sir Montague to be less than honest—and perhaps a dangerous man.’
‘Dangerous?’
‘Yes, I believe so, though I have no proof,’ the earl said. ‘But you must say nothing for the present, Miss Travers. I have only suspicions to go on, and there must be proof.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Elizabeth gave him a smile that lit up her eyes. In repose her features were not remarkable, some might even say plain—but when she smiled her inner loveliness came through. ‘I am glad we have spoken of this, sir, for my brother has been trying to arrange a meeting with Mr Elworthy. It was in my mind to write to him to tell him that nothing could be gained from such a meeting—and now I shall add that I think he ought not to approach Sir Montague either.’
‘It would not be wise for him to do so, for without proof he can do nothing.’
On that they ended their conversation, for they had arrived at the drawing room in almost the same instant as Lady Isadora.
‘Ah, there you are, Elizabeth,’ she said, smiling at them both with an innocence that made her son at least suspect her of mischief. ‘I thought you must have come down earlier, for I went to your room.’
‘I am sorry—did you need me?’
‘Not at all, my dear. I wondered if you had found everything to your liking.’
‘How could I not?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘Everything is of the finest and I am very comfortable. I have also to thank you for the gowns you provided, though I do not think I shall wear bright colours just yet.’
‘Shall you not?’ Lady Isadora asked with a vague smile. ‘Well, they were just a small gift to thank you for being so kind as to come to me—but your allowance shall be paid monthly and you may choose whatever you wish when we go down to Brighton next month.’
‘Oh, no…I mean, you have already been so generous.’
‘I like pretty things, and I like to see those about me happy,’ Lady Isadora said. She looked at her son. ‘Have you been keeping Elizabeth company, dearest?’
‘We happened to meet in the library,’ Daniel told her. ‘Miss Travers shares a love of books, Mama. She has very kindly offered to begin the task of sorting them into some order when she has the time.’
‘I do hope you did not press her into it?’ Lady Isadora frowned at him.
‘Oh, indeed not,’ Elizabeth said instantly. ‘You must know that I like to be busy, ma’am. I am sure that I shall enjoying cataloguing and sorting the books, and there are many that I think we shall enjoy reading together.’
‘Well, as long as you are happy,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘Shall we go in, my dears? I am perfectly certain dinner is ready…’
Elizabeth could not remember an evening she had enjoyed more for some months. After an excellent meal they had repaired to the drawing room, the earl refusing to drink his port in lonely isolation, and swearing that he would prefer to take tea with them. However, she noticed that he had been served with brandy in the drawing room.
Lady Isadora had declared that she was not in the mood for cards and begged Elizabeth to play for them on the pianoforte. She was happy to oblige and played two classical pieces before going on to a play and sing one of the popular ditties of the day. It was then that the earl came to stand beside her, looking through the music at her disposal before choosing something.
‘We might sing this together if it pleases you,’ he suggested. It was a duet for male and female, and told the story of lovers.
