Making his way up the front steps, he paused as the door opened and an intimidating gentleman placed himself in the doorway. Perhaps the intimidation lay in the fact that he was at the top of the steps, making it necessary for him to look down.
“May I help you?” intoned the gentleman.
“James Benton, here to see Lady Stormont.”
“Your appointment was nearly an hour ago.”
“I realize that, and I wish to offer my apology. I… misread my directions.”
The man’s brows rose nearly to his high hairline then dipped as he frowned. “I’ll see if Lady Stormont is able to see you at this hour.”
James waited. What else could he do? Finally the door reopened and he held his breath, awaiting his fate.
“Lady Stormont will see you now.”
He followed the servant to the sitting room. At the threshold, he blinked twice to ensure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. The walls were covered with portraits. Not portraits of people, but of felines — every breed of cat he’d ever seen, and several he didn’t recognize. Each animal was dressed in a costume of some sort — an admiral, complete with feathered hat, leaning on a model of a ship, a younger cat in a sailor suit, a debutante in a gauzy white gown, and a baby, outfitted in a complete layette, lying in a baby carriage The eyes of each animal stared at him, seeming to taunt him…
“Good afternoon, Mr. Benton. Thank you for coming to see me.”
He gave himself a mental shake and focused on the woman seated daintily. She had two heads… no, one was much smaller than the other, though they looked quite similar. He blinked again. Ah, one had fur on its face. He focused on the other one, which bore a welcoming smile.
“Thank you for receiving me, Lady Stormont. Please forgive my tardiness.”
The viscountess waved a hand. “It is of no importance. Edwina and I had no other appointments for the afternoon. Please have a seat, Mr. Benton. I am looking forward to seeing your plan for the winter garden.”
A throat cleared to his left. “Lady Stormont was not inclined to accept my descriptions of your diagrams.”
James gave a start. How had he missed the presence of the gentleman? The earl was tall, and not so slim. Perhaps he’d been so distracted by the unusual decor that the man had blended in.
“Forgive me, my lord. I hadn’t expected to see you here.”
Talbot Yelverton, Earl of Godolphin, gave a regal nod. “Helen — Lady Stormont — didn’t expect me, either. I’m here to see that she doesn’t make any outrageous additions to the plans you’ve drawn.” He cast a stern glare at the viscountess. “The plans the committee has already approved.”
James shook his head. “Forgive me, my lord, but I was given to understand that Lady Stormont was a member of the committee, but she was unable to attend the meeting when you approved the plans.”
“Is that the story she gave you? I’m not surprised. Yes, she’s a member of the committee, but she was unable to attend the meeting because we met in the morning, and she was too busy getting herself out of bed.”
“Why on earth would you meet at such a ghastly hour?” the viscountess argued. “One can’t possibly expect a woman with responsibilities to arrive anywhere so early.”
James wasn’t sure he wanted to witness the argument. “Er, shall I show her ladyship the plans now?”
“We’ll have tea first,” the lady decided. “I simply cannot make a decision on an empty stomach.”
James could hardly protest the delay, as he’d already kept her and the earl waiting. A footman entered, bearing a heavily laden tray, and Lady Stormont poured. As soon as he took his first bite, he realized he hadn’t eaten yet that day, and he happily consumed his tea and the large sandwich the viscountess gave him. Between bites, he answered her numerous questions about his family, his education, his interests, and his marriage prospects. He answered them easily, except those about marriage. It wasn’t that he was against the institution — he’d simply never considered it for himself.
When they’d all finished, the tray was taken away and James slid the sheet from its tube. Since the tea table wasn’t large enough, he held the diagram up for the woman to see.
“Talbot, hand me my spectacles, won’t you?” Holding the device in front of her eyes, she peered at the sheet. “What are these shapes? These words? I don’t recognize any of these names.”
Thankfully, the earl stepped in and explained the diagram, since James was looking at the back of the sheet.
“Hmm.”
James held his breath. With his mother, hmm was usually followed by a litany of faults. What did the viscountess find wrong with his plans? And would she be able to override the rest of the committee?
After an eternity, Lady Stormont put down her glasses and sat back on the sofa. “Interesting. It’s a very classical looking plan.”
Not knowing how to respond, he simply nodded and began to roll up the diagram. Hopefully he’d be able to leave before she changed her mind.
“But it’s so plain. It needs something else.”
His jaw dropped open.
The earl found his voice before James did. “Something else? What else would you need? Most every winter plant is there, and they’re arranged in a logical way.”
“Yes, yes, the plants are nice, but something’s missing. Open that diagram again.” She waited for James to unroll it, then pointed to the diagram’s center. “Right here, where these two walkways intersect. There needs to be something else, a special feature.”
James lowered the paper and peered over it to discover where the lady had pointed. It was indeed a large open area. “Perhaps a pavilion, my lady? With a bench for people to rest?”
“Exactly. But it shouldn’t be boring.”
Not boring? What does the lady have in mind? After getting a taste of the viscountess’ unconventional décor, he braced himself against whatever she might demand.
“I do approve of this overall design,” Lady Stormont continued, putting him at ease. “So you can begin implementing your plan. As soon as I know what the pavilion should look like, I’ll send for you.”
Again, he could do nothing but nod. He put the tube back in his satchel. “Will there be anything else, my lady, my lord?”
The viscountess peered at him through her lorgnette. “You know, it’s quite obvious that you’re in need of a wife.”
The abrupt change of subject made his head spin. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”
“Only an unmarried gentleman would be so famished at this hour of the day. And your wardrobe is further evidence that there is no woman to help you get dressed.”
“I-I’ve been dressing myself for years, my lady.”
Another dismissive wave. “I don’t mean the act of getting dressed. I’m referring to choosing what to wear. You need either a wife or a good valet.”
Before he could form a response, Lady Stormont raised her little bell, summoning the butler. She spoke to him in hushed tones, and in a few moments, the man returned, a much younger version of himself following him.
Lady Stormont performed the introductions. “Mr. Benton, this is Jennings. His older brother is my son’s valet. Jennings the younger has been employed here as a footman, but he’s very industrious and precise, and I’m sure he would be a great asset to you.”
“Er, I’m sure he would. But— but I can’t really afford—”
“Oh, you needn’t pay him. Jennings will remain on my staff, but each morning he will arrive at your home and take care of your wardrobe.”
“My— my wardrobe?”
“Surely you own other clothing than what you’re wearing at this moment.”
“I have a few things…”
“And how old are these things?”
He frowned. Had he purchased them before or after he’d attended university?
“From your frown, I can tell that it was so long ago you’ve forgotten.” She turned to the waiting would-be valet. “Jennings, please accompany Mr. Be
nton back to his townhouse and catalogue his wardrobe. Then make a list of his needs and give it to the tailor on the high street… I forget his name, but his work is exemplary.”
James could do nothing but watch. He turned to the earl, who observed the proceedings indulgently. The elder gentleman apparently noticed James’ incredulity and simply shrugged. Apparently this type of behavior was normal for her.
He hoped his commission would be enough to pay for his new wardrobe.
Chapter Four
Selina bent over her work table, cutting tiny petals for purple verbena blossoms. She would have continued, but the waning light made her work difficult. Glancing at the clock, she realized she’d been working far longer than she’d planned. She had one more task to complete before she could retire for the evening, and she’d best do that while there was still daylight.
She trudged up to the attic rooms above her shop. Unlike the downstairs rooms, where the furnishings reflected refinement and good taste, her personal rooms were bare of all but the basic necessities. A narrow bunk allowed her to sleep and dream. Her trunks, brought and hauled upstairs by the kind footmen who’d taken her away from her previous life, served as her nightstand and table. A third trunk held her washbasin.
The trunks contained what was left of her memories. Inside the first trunk were mementoes from her childhood. Among them were letters from her father, a doll her mother had made for her, and the family Bible, passed on to her when they’d both perished from the fever. There was a letter from her brother, who’d perished while fighting against Napoleon. The second trunk held the table linens she’d embroidered herself during her time as a member of the elite. Since moving, she’d used a few of the table runners to decorate the shop, but otherwise the contents had lain undisturbed. The third held lovely silk ball gowns, day dresses of sprigged lawn, and lacy nightdresses. As a milliner, she had no use for the ball gowns and fancy accessories that had been staples of her wardrobe in her previous life.
But now she was returning — no, not returning, merely making an appearance — back into that world. Wearing her everyday clothing would make her stand out more than she would like. So she’d need to wear one of her old gowns. She’d have to make alterations, of course, so that she wouldn’t stand out by wearing the fashions popular almost two years ago.
She’d observed the women who came into her shop and bought her hats. Since the war had ended, waistlines were even higher, and the hems decorated with ruffles and lace. Skirts were more flared, creating a bell-like silhouette. That would require more fabric. How on earth would she manage that? The decorated hems she could manage, with lace and some of her flowers. But how could she manage the added width? Perhaps if she had two dresses of the same color and fabric…
She dug through her trunk until she found a dress of cream muslin. It had been commissioned just before Richard’s death, and she’d never had the opportunity to wear it. The skirt was a bit wider than the rest of her gowns, though not as wide as the current style. It would have to do. If only there was a way to dress it up a bit…
Her eyes traveled back to the trunk containing the table linens. She’d spent months embroidering each of the napkins herself with a monogram of flowing script. R for Richard, S for herself, and a large D for Davison in the middle. When Freddie Whittier had arrived and given her a week to get out, she’d packed the napkins in the bottom of the trunk, wanting to keep a small memento of her time at Milton House. She’d had a moment of panic when the housekeeper had entered the room and seen what she’d done. But Mrs. Hayes had simply nodded and left, returning later with armfuls of the other linens Selina had decorated with her precise stitches.
She went to the trunk containing the linens. Perhaps the fabric from one of the larger table coverings would provide the yardage she needed. Upon opening it, the scent of lavender sachets tickled her senses. Lavender plants had grown all around the gazebo, her favorite place in the estate’s garden. She’d embroidered the sachet packets, picked several of the fragrant blossoms, dried them in her room, and made the sachets herself. Her lips lifted as her thoughts went back to that idyllic time.
Last spring, she’d purchased lavender cuttings from a vendor at the market and planted them in pots. She’d been delighted when they took root and filled her shop with their fragrance.
She selected two table runners in the same shade as the muslin gown then replaced the sachets. Just before she closed the cover, she felt an oddly shaped bump in the corner. Had Mrs. Hayes packed another surprise in the trunk?
Pulling aside the lace, she reared back as she recognized the little black volume. It was the book Richard had written in every evening before he’d retired for the night. Why had the housekeeper hidden it away, rather than giving it directly to her? Carefully she picked up the book and closed the trunk. She sat on her bed and leaned toward the window so she could read by the day’s last light. Turning the cover, she focused on Richard’s neat, even penmanship, and the familiar pang of loss settled in her heart. The pain changed to awe as she saw her name on the first page.
Today I met the woman I’m going to marry. Her name is Selina, and she’s beautiful in every way I ever imagined my future wife would be. But her beauty transcends her outer features and lies in the compassionate heart she shares with all who meet her. I really didn’t want to attend Katherine’s blasted garden party, but I’m so glad I did. I spent an eternity finding a way to secure an introduction…
Selina closed the book with a sigh. She remembered that party. Mother had been feeling weak, and her doctor had decreed that spending the summer in the country would help her gain strength. So she and her parents had gone to stay with relatives in Brighton. Aunt Minnie and her daughter Katherine had thrown a garden party to welcome them and she’d been uncomfortable being around all those strangers. But Katherine had been so kind, introducing Selina to all her friends. She’d noticed the handsome, studious young man from the corner of her eye. Her new acquaintances told her he was an earl. She hadn’t really cared about that, but she’d been charmed by his quiet self-assurance. When they’d been introduced, she’d felt an instant connection. A year later, they’d married.
But that life was over. She was no longer Countess Milton. She was simply Selina Davison, Milliner. And somehow, she needed to put together a presentable ensemble for the garden party gathering. She would read more of Richard’s diary later.
Chapter Five
Thanks to Lady Stormont’s would-be valet, James’ walk back to his family’s townhouse on North Hill Street was much faster than his roundabout trip to Rosebriar. Jennings had gone through James’ wardrobe and found it sadly lacking. Though he owned cleaner, more appropriate clothing for meeting with his employers, everything was quite out of date. The young man took measurements, made note of which articles of clothing were needed, and left.
James poured himself a drink and sank into the most comfortable chair in the parlor. While he and his brother were young, this had been their father’s chair. All the children knew better than to touch it, or worse yet, sit on it. Lord Sutton had once been known as a driving force in Parliament, and had been feared even more in his home. But the man had mellowed in recent years. The earl and his wife were presently touring the continent, and had allowed James the use of the family’s townhouse in Highgate for the duration of the project, making it unnecessary to search for affordable lodging. James suspected the sudden extended trip might have had more to do with his mother’s displeasure with him, though the official reason was a desire to visit Paris along with other members of the ton. A very limited staff stayed at the townhouse, essentially leaving him to his own devices. Never having been particularly sociable, James preferred it that way. If his mother had been in residence, he would have been dragged to every concert, party, and dinner party, because his father detested them.
The tall, balding gentleman didn’t make a sound, yet James knew he was there. He sighed. “You were right, Hanson. My choice of clothing today w
as … inadequate. Lady Stormont has taken it upon herself to see that I present myself appropriately from now on.”
“I apologize, sir. I should have taken it upon myself to assist you in selecting today’s attire.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference. I haven’t purchased anything new for quite some time. The young man Lady Stormont sent found my current selection of clothing to be sadly lacking. It appears I will need to spend much of my commission for the winter garden on a new wardrobe.”
Hanson had worked for the Benton family for years and never showed any emotion or took sides. That was why the man’s admonition to change his clothes that morning had come as a surprise. It had been delivered in the calmest, politest manner, yet James knew that Hanson hadn’t approved of the jacket and trousers he’d worn. But by then, he hadn’t had time to change, and he’d known his chances of arriving at Rosebriar on time were quite slim.
As it was, he’d been nearly an hour late. He wasn’t sure whether it was his father’s title or Lady Stormont’s friendship with his mother that had prevented him from being turned away, or worse yet, taken off the job, but he was thankful for securing the commission.
He hated having to depend on his parents’ connections. He’d never had an interest in government, fashions, or any of the favorite pastimes of the ton. Instead, he’d spent many happy hours following the gardener at the estate, learning about all the different types of plants and how to care for them.
Oddly, his inability to find his way never surfaced when he was outdoors. He could roam his father’s estate, or any other estate grounds, and never get lost. It was only in the city that he got turned around. All the buildings looked alike. Every street blended into the next. It was this realization that made him pursue agriculture as a field of expertise, with landscape design in particular. The only challenge there was in finding the estates on which he would work, and dodging the displeasure of his mother, who’d been horrified that her child had taken up such a plebeian pursuit. At least his sister wasn’t there to add her scorn.
Lost in Lavender (A Christmas Bouquet Book 1) Page 2
