by Ella Edon
As they walked through the lower level of the house, seeing the library, the withdrawing room and the music room, Merope was a bit surprised to see how informal it was when compared to a place like Worthington. Though there were some lovely art pieces hanging on the walls and sitting atop a few tables, most of the furniture, though strong in appearance and made of handsome dark wood with good wool and leather coverings, was well worn.
Not for Albany House were the delicate chairs, fragile silk coverings, and untouchable embroidered pillows of some houses. It seemed to Merope that it was much like a farmhouse in its utility of decor and inviting surroundings. Or even like the inn, she thought, for they too had sturdy, masculine furnishings.
She liked it very much.
For just a moment, though, she caught a glimpse of Sally's face. She seemed quite dismayed by what she was seeing. Merope was sure that she'd hope to see the formality, and frankly, something a little more like the display of wealth at the Worthington House. Merope could see that there was quite a difference between the two places and that they were each suitable in their own way. She wondered if Sally would understand that.
The little group found themselves back near the entryway, near the wide staircase that led upstairs. Coming down the staircase now were two people that were somehow familiar to Merope . . . either because she had seen them before at the inn, or because Mr. Brookford bore such a resemblance to them both.
"Mother, Father," said Mr. Brookford, as his parents stepped down to the main level. "Allow me to introduce Miss Sally Henson, of the Henson Farm south of Birdwell, and Miss Merope Robbins, of Birdwell proper."
Both girls curtsied gracefully, as they had been taught. "We are so pleased to meet you both," said Lord Albany, taking each girl's hand in turn and bowing over it.
"Indeed, we are, Miss Henson and Miss Robbins," said Lady Albany. "Your things have been sent up to your room. If you would like to go upstairs and refresh yourselves, we will have supper ready in one hour."
Merope noticed that they, too, were rather simply dressed, and looked more like ordinary country folk than landed gentry – even though, as owners of a great house, many acres of land, their own mill, and their own flour and grain business, they were far more than the simple farmers they seemed to style themselves on.
"Such a beautiful house, Lady Albany!" gushed Sally. "I have never seen one that I liked so well. Not even Worthington House compares to this!"
Merope knew quite well that Sally did not like the house at all and was far more drawn to the formal, opulent style of Worthington. Idly, she wondered how long Sally would be able to keep up this performance of simply adoring Albany House and everything about it.
She couldn't wait until Sally was forced to endure a grand tour of the grain mill. It was clear to Merope that Sally had come here for a week away from her roots and wanted to focus only what might raise her above the farming life all together.
"I am glad you like it, Miss Henson," said Lady Albany. "I will be pleased to show you more of it this week.
"There will be tours of the grounds, too," added Lord Albany. "The mill is our pride, as I'm sure James informed you."
"Oh, yes, yes indeed!" said Sally. "I have been so looking forward to seeing it."
"Well, then, tomorrow you shall both see it," said Lady Albany. "After breakfast, we will have James give you the tour."
"Wonderful!" said Sally, trying to catch Mr. Brookford's eye – but he kept his attention on his parents instead.
"Lady Albany," Merope said, trying to step into the opening in the conversation before Sally started up again. "I wanted to thank you for allowing me to ride along with Sally as her companion. I am certainly looking forward to the ball, as well as to simply visiting your beautiful home."
Lady Albany paused, cocking her head slightly, and glanced from Sally to Mr. Brookford and then back to Merope again.
"Miss Robbins, I am sure you and Miss Henson are the best of companions," she said. "But I am quite sure I invited no young lady merely as the companion for another. Anyone who received a note was invited to the ball. Your note had an extra card inside, requesting that you come early as a guest of our house. It was the same card that Miss Henson received. Do you not remember seeing it?"
"A – card?" Merope thought back, trying to remember exactly how she had picked up the wax-sealed note and carefully opened it. "I am sorry, Lady Albany. Perhaps I misplaced it, I recall only receiving my note of invitation to the ball. I only knew of the request that I arrive early when Sally – when Miss Henson showed me her own note and card."
"That is true, Lady Albany," Sally broke in. "I got my card stating that a carriage would be sent for me, and that Miss Robbins would be picked up at the same time. So, of course, I made sure she knew of the plan, so she would not be late." She smiled brightly at James's mother, but the older woman only looked at Merope and shook her head.
"Miss Robbins, you were meant to receive exactly the same card," said Lady Albany. "Since James has spoken well of you both, I hoped to meet you two, and thought you might be companions for one another while you were here. I am so very sorry if you did not get your card. It may, indeed, have been an oversight, but I assure you, that that is all it could have been."
Merope stared up at her for a moment, but then made herself smile. "Of course, Lady Albany. Please know that I am very pleased to come either way."
She felt slightly better but told herself quickly that perhaps James's mother was only being polite in front of him. He looked at her and smiled, apparently sincere, but that would remain to be seen.
In any case, however, this was a lovely home – it was James's home – and a ball would be held in just a few days. She may as well enjoy it while she could. It would be very nice to enjoy a week's respite from the demands of the inn, if nothing else.
Merope caught a glimpse of Sally's face. She looked both annoyed and dismayed. "There, now, you see, Miss Robbins?" Sally said, with a smile as bright as cold winter sunlight. "I told you that you were invited as well. And you didn't believe me!"
In turn, Merope did not hold herself back from giving Sally the coldest smile she could summon. "Of course, you did, Miss Henson. And it is so very nice that we are both here together now, with an entire week of enjoyment to look forward to."
They both stared at each other with those cold smiles. To Merope's satisfaction, it was Sally who looked away first.
"Well, now, young ladies," said Lady Albany. "Allow me to show you upstairs to your room. I'm sure you would like to rest a little after your long ride from Birdwell. Supper will be served at six o'clock, so you will have plenty of time."
"Thank you, Lady Albany. Lord Albany," Merope said. She and Sally curtsied to both before following Mr. Brookford's mother up the stairs.
"Miss Robbins," Sally said, in a voice like honey, "I am ever so glad you could accompany me here for the week."
"Miss Henson," Merope said, with tones as sweet as Caribbean sugar, "I could not be more pleased that you could accompany me here for the week."
They nodded to each other as Lady Albany glanced over her shoulder, and then followed her in silence the rest of the way up the stairs.
Chapter Sixteen
The room was large and bright, located up in the center of the second floor. It faced west and the afternoon sun filled it with soft light as Merope and Sally arranged their trunks, chose which of three canopy beds they preferred, and settled in to get ready for dinner and for the week to come.
Without saying a word, they had chosen beds which were as far across the room from each other as possible. They began laying out the dresses and boots as soon as their trunks were brought in. They each took particular care to decide what to wear to their first dinner at Albany House.
Sally was the first to speak. "I wonder which of us will be seated the closest to Mr. Brookford?" she began. "I am sure his mother will – "
"Listen to me, Sally." Now that they were alone, Merope spoke very bl
untly. "We both know why we are here."
At first, Sally tried to appear stunned and innocent. "Why, Merope! We are here as guests of Mr. Brookford and his parents at their beautiful estate!”
"We are here because Mr. Brookford is a single gentleman, the sole heir to this estate, who is now some twenty-seven years of age," said Merope. "His parents will hope he will marry soon.”
"Why, Merope," Sally said, practically batting her eyelashes. "Everyone in Birdwell knows that. What are you saying?"
"I am saying," she said, with exaggerated patience, "that we are obviously here because Mr. Brookford has taken something of a liking to both of us. He has invited us here so that his parents might inspect us and decide which of us will make the most suitable wife for their son."
"So – you are telling me this to warn me to be on my best behavior? You need not worry about that. I intend to show my very best side at every turn, at every hour of every day this week." She nodded towards her trunk and the stack of baskets and leather cases tumbled in a heap beside it. "I brought everything I had at my disposal to help me do exactly that!"
"You don't understand, Sally." Merope's voice remained very cool and flat. "I am telling you that I intend to give no quarter when it comes to James Brookford."
Sally stood up. Her face lost its overly sweet expression. "Give no quarter? What are you saying?"
"I am saying that – I have also come to like Mr. Brookford very much. If he should offer me a proposal, I would not say no to it."
Sally raised her chin, with a sniff. "Perhaps he will propose to me, instead! Or didn't you think of that?"
"I have certainly thought of it. I have no intention of letting you to win him – not this week, nor any other week."
"I would remind you," Sally said, scowling, "that it was not so long ago that you took Daniel Bird from me."
Merope shook her head. "I did no such thing, Sally."
"You know I adored him! You flirted with him and drew him away from me!"
"We have talked this over before. You and Daniel Bird were not attached, neither were he and I. You cannot blame me for his leaving Birdwell - and you. "
With a fierce scowl, Sally flopped back down on the bed and looked away.
"And has Mr. Brookford made any promises to you?"
She shot Merope a fierce glare. "You know that he has not!” exclaimed Sally.
"Until – and unless – he does propose to you, I will do all I can to turn his head to me,” replied Merope.
"So, you are serious about him!"
Merope nodded. "He is a very fine catch and a very fine gentleman. He and I have made a pact with each other to – "
Instantly, Sally was on her feet. "A pact? Whatever are you talking about? Are you saying that you are secretly engaged? Merope Robbins, how could you do such a thing and stand there and let me think – "
"Please, Sally. Sit down. It's nothing of the kind. The pact I am speaking of is a simple one. We agreed that we would always be entirely honest in our dealings with one another. That our heads would always rule, and not our hearts, for hearts are wildly emotional and prone to making poor decisions."
"You – plan to – find a husband using only your head? Not your heart?" Sally actually did look entirely baffled. "How can you fall in love if you never listen to your heart?"
Merope paused for a moment, to catch her breath before she spoke again. "Well – you see – I have no doubt that love is possible when you let your head rule. You might listen to your heart, of course. It's just that you do not let it make decisions that are better left to a cool head and a clear mind."
"I see," said Sally. She cocked her head and looked at Merope with narrowed eyes. "Perhaps one of us will leave here this week with a proposal. And I assure you, I would not be here if I did not believe it could be me."
"That remains to be seen."
"I fully intend to do all I can to win him, Merope. I do believe he will propose to me, for you have told me all I need to hear. If you are aiming for his head, and I am aiming for his heart, we shall see who will win him!”
Very carefully, Merope sat down on the edge of her bed. "But you must remember something. While you are here for this week, you must win his family, too. If you are aiming for a proposal, that can be the key."
Merope turned her face away to hide her small smirk, for Sally suddenly had a look of panic on her face. She clearly had tried to think of every possible tactic to win Mr. Brookford, with all of the costly new clothes and her intense concentration on flattering him and attending to his every word. It had not dawned on her that his parents would be watching him all this week, and of course, advising him on who they might wish for him to marry.
"This is their property. Their family home," said Merope, looking back at Sally again. "As the Viscount and Viscountess of Albany, his parents will have much to say. I am surprised that you would not think of that, as determined as you are to catch him."
For an instant, Sally looked quite frightened, almost like someone drowning. She got up and walked over to the window, gazing out into the softly lit grey day. "Maybe I should not have done this. Maybe I am just a simple country girl after all. What made me think a gentleman like James Brookford might ever notice me – much less choose me for his wife?"
Merope sighed. "You and I are both simple country girls, Sally, when it comes down to the facts. I have not forgotten that Mr. Brookford lived for some years in London and is certainly well acquainted with far more sophisticated women than you or I. We have lived all our lives, either raising chickens or helping to run a small-town inn . . . nothing more."
"Like little sparrows trying to fly with falcons," whispered Sally, "and thinking we are just as magnificent, when we are not even close."
Merope smiled. "Oh, it may not be as bad as all that. Mr. Brookford does seem to love his country home, even though he has said he would rather live in London. And, of course, so would I."
Sally turned around to face her again. "You want to live in London? Does Mr. Brookford know this?"
"Of course, he does. I told you, we agreed to be honest with each other at all times."
Now it was Sally's turn to smile. "Oh, Merope. I do not think that is possible for anyone. But I shall certainly enjoy watching you try." She walked away from the window and again sat down on the edge of her canopied bed.
Merope was not finished yet. "There is one more thing," she said. "Is Daniel Bird attending this ball?"
Sally had just recovered from the last shock, and now she seemed to have had another. "I – I don't know," she said, her eyes wide. "Why would he? And why would I know either way?"
"Why would you know? Are you saying, Sally, that Daniel does not call on you from time to time? Drive you to Birdwell on market day, make deliveries at your farm?"
"He does, of course, but – but I have seen little of him of late."
Merope frowned. "Have you not? I suppose that is because – " She glanced at Sally's overflowing trunk and baskets and bags. "Because you have turned your attention entirely to James Brookford and getting a proposal if you can. To be the future Viscountess of Albany, instead of a farmer’s wife."
Sally set her jaw and turned her face away, glaring down at the floor.
"And as to why Daniel would be invited to the ball here at Albany House? Well, Sally, dear – " Merope paused, enjoying this far more than decency would allow.
"Lord and Lady Albany are kind and generous," Merope went on. "They seem to be much like the Earl Worthington. They show a certain amount of concession and are not above inviting simple farm folk to their grand private ball. After all – they very kindly invited you, didn't they?"
Merope got up and walked to her trunk, taking her time with carefully unpacking it. There was only furious silence from Sally. Finally, Merope heard her struggling to speak.
"But – they – yes, Lord and Lady Albany did kindly invite me! And yes, my parents are farm folk! Most everyone around Birdwell is farm folk. Spa
rrows among the falcons, as I said! Even you, Miss Robbins, are – "
"I, Miss Henson, am the daughter of an innkeeper, who was a man of means with a fine business that he started and maintained throughout his life. I have never lived on a farm and everyone knows it, including James Brookford."
Merope stood up, while Sally continued to sulk and look away. "If I may help you with your hair, just say the word. We only have a couple of hours until we must go down to dinner."
Sally just gave her a bare nod, still looking away. Merope smiled to herself and went back to unpacking her trunk.
Chapter Seventeen
Eventually, the two girls made their way down the stairs and into the dining room. Merope and Sally walked side by side in complete silence, as if each was entirely alone and the other one did not even exist.
