“I fancy we shall not,” Selina said crisply. “I counseled Jeremy to select neutral hues, and I shall follow my own advice. We shall paint all the walls in ecru, Mr. Farnsworth, and where fabric is necessary, I shall rely on you to choose something—something bland.”
“Something—bland."
The builder’s pencil had frozen in midair, and Selina felt that some sort of explanation was required. She could scarcely tell him that the house was being refurbished for an altogether different Lady Worsham, and she seized upon a half-truth.
“The furniture is still in doubt,” she said, “and, as I explained to Jeremy, ecru will go with anything."
“I see your logic, Lady Worsham,” the builder agreed dubiously. “However, if I may be permitted a suggestion, there are several carpets I am sure you will want to retain. The Aubusson in the dining room, for instance; you no doubt recall that it is predominandy green.”
In fact, Selina recollected the rug only vaguely, but she nodded.
“If, as I say, I were to tender a suggestion, I should recommend that you paint the dining-room walls a
very pale shade of green so as to complement the carpet. I should counsel a similar procedure wherever there are large rugs in good condition: a subtle rose i with the red Axminster in the saloon—”
“Very well,” Selina interposed impatiendy. “I shall leave that to your judgment, too.” She retreated into the corridor, ventured a few steps toward the master suite, then whirled back round. “With one exception,,” she amended. “If there are any blue carpets, they are^ not to be considered; I do not wish a single drop of blue paint anywhere in the house.”
“Yes, Lady Worsham.”
The builder issued a tiny, resigned sigh, and Selina surmised that he had long since grown accustomed to the irrational, stubborn whims of his clients. For her j part, she could not imagine why she had conceived such a violent dislike for blue, but she squared her shoulders and marched on down the hall.
Selina had previously observed that time seemed to pass more quickly with each successive year of life, but their early weeks in Wiltshire nevertheless astonished her. June became July, the first of July became the middle, and Selina could recollect only a blur of warm, , pleasant days and nights.
Though perhaps the blur was understandable, she thought, because their existence at Seymour Manor had rapidly assumed a pattern. Every morning she and Grandmama drove to Worfields to review Mr. Farnsworth’s progress; sometimes Alex accompanied them, sometimes Jeremy, sometimes both. In any case, the party returned to Seymour Manor for lunch, and during the afternoon, Selina availed herself of Captain Seymour’s extensive library or strolled about the garden or rode horseback with the Earl. Having not mounted a horse for well over a decade, Selina had tried to decline his lordship’s first invitation; but he had been most insistent and remarkably patient, and Selina soon discovered that their excursions about the grounds were j by far her favorite afternoon activity. To her relief, Alex did not attempt any further intimacies—physical or otherwise—and she could best describe their relationship as one of comfortable, maturing friendship.
Selina had initially feared that Papa might feel neglected in the new scheme of things, but, to the contrary, he grew visibly cheerier with every passing day. At length, Selina determined the reason for his content: reaching the stable early one afternoon, she found Black Jack Hewson engaged in a hot game of hazard with the grooms. Selina did not suppose the grooms’ wages sufficient to render Papa rich, but, by the same token, he could not lose enough to impoverish himself. And she had custody of Mama’s remaining jewelry. She crept away before she could be detected and went to meet the Earl.
Meanwhile, as Grandmama had-predicted, the Wiltshire ton drifted back from London, and the group at Seymour Manor was rapidly caught up in a whirl of parties and musicales and assemblies. Selina was quite exhausted by the time Simon and Harriet returned from town, and, to her dismay, their arrival prompted a new round of social activities. Lady Stansbury insisted on conducting a dinner party in the Prestons’ honor; Lady Willis, not to be outdone, arranged a picnic; and Mrs. Willis—the untitled sister-in-law of the latter—put them both to shame with a banquet followed by a professional concert. Tired as she was, Selina was compelled to own | that she was enjoying herself, and she felt she was forming friendships amongst Alex’s country neighbors as well.
Just after the middle of the month, Mr. Farnsworth announced that Worfields would be ready for occupation on the twenty-second—an announcement which served to bring Selina abruptly back to earth. She had been enjoying herself far too much, she reflected grimly; she had dashed from one entertainment to another as if she were to remain in Wiltshire forever. In truth, time was fast running out: she and Papa must begin planning their escape, and the grand opportunity she had hoped for had not yet come their way. Apparently
they would have to rely on Mama’s jewels after all, and Selina made a mental note to inspect them without
delay.
“The twenty-second.” Mrs. Seymour nodded. “Painful experience has taught me, Mr. Farnsworth, that builders are inclined to make rash promises, so I shall grant you a week of grace. We shall hold the housewarming ball on the twenty-ninth.”
“Housewarming ball?” Selina repeated. Grandmama’s proposal was dismally reminiscent of London.
“Surely you did not think I should cede victory to Agatha and the Willis women,” Mrs. Seymour snapped. “I am extremely fond of Agatha, but insofar as the Willises are concerned .. . Well, my dear, Samuel may have been a pirate, but the first Willis was a gardener who had the good fortune to fall in with Capability Brown. I must certainly present an entertainment to surpass theirs, and a housewarming ball is perfect.”
Selina glanced desperately about, but her search for assistance was quite gratuitous. Alex had chosen not to come to Worfields today, and Mr. Farnsworth—for whatever use she might have made of him—had disappeared. She had to rely on her own judgment, and she recollected that her foolish agreement to Grandmama’s earlier assembly had created this bumblebath in the first place.
“That is very kind of you," she said, distantly aware that she was quoting the Earl, “but I fancy we must decline. Alex and I have decided to—to go on holiday as soon as the house is finished.”
“On holiday?” Mrs. Seymour echoed disbelievingly. “After all this work? Far be it from me to interfere, my dear, but I should think you might wish to stay a week or two at least.”
Grandmama’s tone was unquestionably wounded, and Selina sought to make amends. “Under normal circumstances, we should,” she agreed. “However”—she decided to address Mrs. Seymour’s earthier instincts—“I am sure you appreciate our situation. Since Alex and I are newly married, we naturally wish some privacy . .
But she could not Finish without a blush, and as she gazed studiedly at the front door, there was a tap upon it.
“Hello?" The voice was high, shrill, vaguely familiar. “Yoo-hoo?”
The door swung open, and Isabella Bradley stepped into the entry hall.
Chapter 12
“Mrs. Seymour. Lady Worsham.” Miss Bradley closed the door and moved to the middle of the foyer. “When I inquired after you at Seymour Manor, Tuttle directed me here.”
Selina would have wagered her last groat that, in fact, Miss Bradley had inquired after Alex—a theory substantiated when she began to peer amongst the various doorways issuing from the entry hall.
“Alexander will be sorry to have missed you,” Grandmama said dryly, and, to Selina’s petty gratification, Miss Bradley flushed. “I fear we failed to inform Tuttle that Alex went to Trowbridge this morn- ihg to tend some errands.”
“Trowbridge?” Miss Bradley repeated peevishly. “Had I known that . ..” She stopped and bit her lip. “Had I known that,” she continued smoothly, “I should certainly have watched for him so as to say hello. I am staying at the Bell and Thistle.”
“Staying at the inn?” Mrs. Seymour said.
“Is something amiss at Bradley House?”
“Everything is amiss,” Miss Bradley responded. “The servants we left behind neglected their duties most shamefully in our absence, and the house is in wretched condition indeed. I cannot abide dirt and confusion, so I shall move in after Aunt Helen has put things aright.” “How fortunate that Mrs. Lennox can abide dirt and confusion,” Grandmama suggested wryly.
“Is it not?” Miss Bradley flashed a totally unembarrassed smile. “Speaking of which—dirt ana confusion,
that is—I am given to understand that you are renovating Worfields. I am sure you will not object if I look about a bit.”
She gave them no opportunity to object: she marched to the library door, proceeded to the dining room across the foyer, traversed the narrow corridor behind the entry hall, inspected the saloon, glanced into the parlor. At length, she returned to the foyer and granted Selina a nod of approval. “I must commend you on your extensive use of white, Lady Worsham.”
“Ecru,” Selina corrected stiffly.
“White, ecru; what is the difference?” Miss Bradley waved one gloved hand. “My point is that it is a wonderfully dull, wonderfully unimaginative color. It will enable you to replace the upholstery and the draperies virtually at will. At least”—a pregnant pause—“I assume you intend to recover the furniture and replace the curtains.”
“Eventually,” Selina muttered.
“Well, do not tease yourself about it,” Miss Bradley said kindly. “A complete redecoration will no doubt require considerable time, and, in the interim, it does appear that Mr. Farnsworth has made splendid progress. When are you to take occupancy?”
“On the twenty-second,” Selina mumbled.
"Saturday.” Miss Bradley nodded. “And I daresay you will treat us all to a grand entertainment shordy thereafter.”
“Unfortunately, they will not,” Mrs. Seymour said. “I myself proposed a housewarming ball, but Selina stated that she and Alex plan to go on holiday.”
“On holiday.” Miss Bradley nodded again. “I well understand your desire to get away, Lady Worsham, for I fancy you and Alex are quite at one another’s throats by now. I am told that the renovation of a house can strain even the most ideal of marriages—”
“Actually,” Selina blurted out, “now that I think on it, I believe we will have a housewarming ball.” She could not conceive why she had so rashly changed her mind, but Miss Bradley’s clear disappointment was sufficient to drive her on. “Did you not mention the twenty- ninth, Grandmama?”
“Indeed I did,” Mrs. Seymour concurred, “and if we get about the planning at once, I foresee no obstacle.”
“I shall leave you to it then,” Miss Bradley snapped. “Good day, Mrs. Seymour. Lady Worsham.”
To Selina’s further delight, Miss Bradley fairly stalked across the entry hall, threw open the front door and flounced over the threshold. It was not until she slammed the door resoundingly closed that Selina once more crashed back to earth, and she whirled contritely toward Mrs. Seymour.
“Forgive me, Grandmama,” she said. “You must think my behavior exceedingly peculiar—”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Seymour sniffed. “It was quite apparent that Isabella—as is her habit—was hoping to make mischief. She was doubtless formulating a great, delicious on-dil about you and Alex, and I am sorry to own that her influence in the community is considerable. No, you acted very wisely, my dear, and we shall conduct a magnificent assembly on the twenty-ninth. Prior to that, you must, of course, be somewhat settled at Worfields, and we shall accordingly send up to London for your servants. Yes, we shall write Winthrop immediately, and we shall then turn our attention to the ball.”
Selina could not quell an impression that Grandmama was a trifle too triumphant, but there was no chance to dwell on it, for she was swiftly embroiled in a storm of preparations. Within an hour of their return to Seymour Manor, they had composed and dispatched a communication to Winthrop, and during the remainder of the afternoon, they penned invitations to the assembly. Alex came back from Trowbridge just as they were finishing the latter task, and if he was surprised to learn that there was to be a grand ball at Worfields, he displayed no indication. To the contrary, he pronounced the assembly “an excellet idea,” and Selina entertained a fleeting notion that he was suspiciously pleased as well.
On the following day, two of Mrs. Seymour’s footmen delivered the invitations about the neighborhood, and the day after that, Grandmama and Selina embarked upon the now-familiar round of conferences with the local purveyors. Selina had initially supposed that this phase of the planning would prove relatively simple because Trowbridge could boast of only one caterer, one florist and one orchestra. However, as Mrs. Seymour pointedly explained in the presence of the three merchants, one could always obtain similar services in Westbury or Warminster—even in Somerset, if necessary—and she insisted on negotiating the price of every lobster patty, every potted palm, every note of every waltz to the very last farthing.
Consequently, it was Saturday midday before the arrangements could be completed to Grandmama’s satisfaction, and Selina scarcely had time to rush back to Seymour Manor, pack her things and leap into the barouche with Alex, Jeremy and Papa. Mrs. Seymour’s “painful experience” notwithstanding, Mr. Farnsworth had finished his labors on schedule, and Grandmama’s own staff had removed the coverings from the furniture, dusted and waxed, scrubbed and polished till Worfields literally shone. In short, matters would have been perfect except that the Mount Street servants had not yet come down from London. Mrs. Seymour had offered to lend Selina a maid, a footman and an assistant cook, and as they milled about—obviously wondering whether they wereTo stay or go—Rose burst into the foyer.
“Lady Worsham!” she squealed. “Oh, I am so happy to see you, ma’am.” She did, in fact, seem at the point of seizing Selina in a passionate ^embrace, but at the last moment, she dropped a clumsy curtsy instead. “I daresay travel is very exciting, but I’ve never before been out of London in my life, and it’s all quite scary. I misdoubted we’d actually get here; how do the drivers know the road to take? But now I am here, I confess it was exciting—”
“Exciting?” Winthrop snorted. “I believe you know me to be a man of boundless discretion. Lady Worsham, but, for once, I shall freely speak my mind. Far from being ‘exciting,’ our journey was the most wretched experience I have been compelled to endure in all my sixty years.”
He looked to Abbot and Mrs. Larkin for concurrence, but evidently they preferred not to take sides: they busily scrutinized their dusty shoes.
“I should not have undertaken such a journey,” the butler continued, “did I not entertain an unquestioning loyalty for yourself and Lord Worsham. Having undertaken the journey, I fully expected to fmd myself in charge of a proper household. However—if I may again speak freely—this household cannot be operated with a staff of four, and if there are to be no further servants, I must regretfully tender my resignation.”
So much for “unquestioning loyalty,” Selina thought dryly. “We shall have to consult Lord Worsham on that head," she murmured aloud.
“Consult me}" The Earl displayed his most charming smile. “That is entirely unnecessary, my love; insofar as our domestic organization is concerned, I have implicit confidence in your judgment. I am certain that if you and Winthrop arrange the household to your mutual satisfaction, I shall be satisfied as well.”
His lordship was behaving very suspiciously indeed, and Selina could only surmise that he had decided, if somewhat belatedly, to provide a proper home for Jeremy. “Very well,” she said. “I daresay we are all tired, so I suggest we discuss it tomorrow, Winthrop. In the meantime, Mrs. Seymour has most kindly provided us a cold supper. If you will lay it out, Mrs. Larkin, we shall eat early and retire early.”
Winthrop—evidently driven insane with triumph— humbled himself to the astonishing extent of assisting Mrs. Larkin, and by seven o’clock, they had finished their meal and repaired to the
ir respective bedchambers. Selina was tired, but, to her dismay, Rose insisted on unpacking her mistress’s clothes at once. The energetic little maid hung every single dress lopsidedly in the wardrobe; distributed the lingerie amongst the drawers in a fashion which could only be termed “chaotic”; and, for some incomprehensible reason, placed all the left shoes on one side of the wardrobe floor and all the) right shoes on the other. After she had curtsied cheerfully out, it took Selina a full hour to undo the havoc she had wrought, and when, at last, she collapsed into the bed, she was thoroughly exhausted.
Nevertheless she found it peculiarly difficult to fall asleep, and she eventually, reluctantly conceded that she missed Alex’s presence. Grandmama’s advice to the contrary, they had, of course, elected to occupy the widely separated bedchambers of the master suite; and it was impossible for any normal sound to drift through the Earl’s door, waft across the sitting room and penetrate Selina’s door. She could not hear the slams and squeaks which invariably punctuated his toilette, the occasional muffled curse as he popped a button or tore a seam; could not hear, above all, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
The silence served to render Selina oddly lonely, and she determinedly closed her ears to the unaccustomed quiet. But she could not help thinking about his lordship, and she wondered again precisely what he was at. He must realize that his authorization to engage additional servants could only complicate their charade, so why had he consented? Nay, not consented, offered, and most expansively at that. Selina was at the point of irritation (a familiar sentiment) when she perceived that the housewarming ball was another major complication; why had she consented to that} It was all very puzzling, and when no answers came, Selina tumbled into an uneasy sleep.
The Counterfeit Countess Page 15
