With each sway and bounce of the landaulet, Eden could feel Lady Penhollow tense as if not wanting to lose her balance and inadvertently touch her. Polite comments Eden made to break the tension were met with monosyllabic answers.
The promised rain began coming down at the outskirts of Plympton. The town itself wasn’t very large. There was a paved main street of shops, several rows of houses, and, of course, a church.
Eden stared out the coach window in dismay. Lady Penhollow had lent her a straw bonnet and she had no desire to ruin it or the slippers on her feet. Fortunately, their coachman, Leeds, had an umbrella. He held it over their heads as Lady Penhollow marched from one shop in the rain to another, Eden in tow.
After an hour of this, Leeds drove across the street to the shop beneath the sign shaped like a hand with the lettering Wm. Harrelson, Glover. The bell on the door tinkled as they entered.
Mr. Harrelson and his wife came out from a back room, their eyebrows raised in surprise that anyone would venture out on a day such as this. Mrs. Harrelson quickly greeted them and offered to brew a cup of tea, “To take the chill out of your bones.” Lady Penhollow accepted and sat on a high stool in front of the counter.
“And you, my lady?” the glover’s wife asked.
“Miss Eden,” Lady Penhollow corrected before Eden could reply. “She’s a ‘Miss.” “
Mrs. Harrelson covered her mouth with her fingers, upset by her blunder.
Eden shook her head to indicate she should not feel bad and gave the woman a reassuring smile. “A cup of tea would be appreciated. Is it possible that I can arrange for a cup for our driver? He has the worst of it since he’ll be out in the rain all the way home.”
Her words apparently pleased Mrs. Harrelson. “Of course, I can brew a cup for him too, and how nice of you to think of the poor man standing in the rain.” She crossed to the door and motioned Leeds inside.
Leeds appeared startled to be summoned. Then when he discovered it was over a cup of tea, he stared at Lady Penhollow as if he could scarce believe his ears. Mrs. Harrelson told him to come to the back room with her.
Lady Penhollow rapped the counter impatiently. “Are we going to have service here or stand around sipping tea all day?”
Mr. Harrelson immediately offered service. “What may I do for you today, my lady?”
“She needs a pair of long kid gloves in oyster or pearl, and perhaps a short pair in York tan,” Lady Penhollow informed the shopkeeper.
Her imperious tone set Eden’s teeth on edge. She was quickly growing tired of being treated like an unwanted appendage, especially by the woman who had insisted Eden accompany her.
The shopkeeper accurately heard what Lady Penhollow implied without saying—Eden was of no consequence. He reached for a box of lower-priced gloves, their quality, as he laid them out on the counter, definitely reflecting their price.
Lady Penhollow tested a glove by pulling on one of the fingers. She tried them on. “This pair will be perfect for her.”
Eden clenched her teeth to hold back her temper. She would not take offense with Lady Penhollow over a pair of gloves.
While the glover wrapped the gloves, she even swallowed her pride and attempted to express gratitude to Lady Penhollow for the purchase. “Thank you. They’re lovely—”
“Oh, no, don’t thank me,” Lady Penhollow said briskly. “If I had my way, you’d be living off the parish where you belong and not under my roof. Your presence here has ruined everything for everyone.” She didn’t wait for a response but walked to the door. She stopped. “Leeds, I’m ready to leave.”
Leeds quickly hurried from the back room to serve his mistress. He opened the door and the umbrella and escorted Lady Penhollow to the landaulet. Eden stood right where Lady Penhollow had left her, shocked by the woman’s blatant rudeness.
“Miss?” Mr. Harrelson said timidly.
His voice broke through her shock. She turned to him.
“Here are your gloves,” he said, holding out the package. His wife hovered by the back room door. She’d heard Lady Penhollow too.
This time, Eden didn’t hold back the anger surging through her. She took the gloves from Mr. Harrelson with a soft “Thank you,” and charged out the door to do battle with Lady Penhollow.
Fortunately, the rain had let up a bit and the sky actually looked like it was going to clear, not that Eden cared. She marched up to the coach. Lady Penhollow was already inside. Leeds was in his seat on top of the coach.
“She ordered me up here, miss,” he said under his breath.
“Don’t worry. My argument isn’t with you,” Eden answered in a low voice and jerked the door open. She climbed inside. Lady Penhollow sat on her side of the landaulet like a marble statue. Eden drew great satisfaction in slamming the coach door and startling the woman.
Lady Penhollow blinked twice and then knocked on the side of the coach for Leeds to drive on before Eden had taken her seat. Eden smiled. Lady Penhollow might be a player of petty games and nonsense, but Eden had been schooled in that art by masters, the women who lived under Madame Indrani’s roof. She herself had never been one to stoop to cattiness. Instead, she’d always confronted the transgressor in a firm, direct manner… and she did so with Lady Penhollow now.
“Lady Penhollow, if I have offended you, please accept my apology instead of belittling me in front of shopkeepers. I find that kind of behavior extremely common.”
Lady Penhollow whipped her head around to face Eden, her eyes blazing with outrage, and Eden felt a measure of triumph. She’d struck the woman’s Achilles’ heel.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Lady Penhollow said irritably.
“Oh, come now, let us speak plainly, my lady, instead of hiding behind a facade of manners. What exactly have I done to upset you?”
Lady Penhollow drew back into her corner of the coach, the set of her mouth stubborn. They rode in silence this way for several minutes. Eden had almost begun to believe Lady Penhollow wasn’t going to answer, but then she spoke.
“I don’t like the way my son looks at you.
You’re a threat to him and I will protect him at all costs.“
“Lord Penhollow has done nothing more than be unfailingly polite.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes.”
Lady Penhollow smirked. “You lie, girl. You can’t possibly be that incredibly green. No woman could look the way you do and be completely oblivious.”
“And just exactly what does that mean, my lady?” Eden asked carefully.
Lady Penhollow moved out of her corner. “You know what I’m talking about. There is something about you that arouses men and you wield that power effectively. It’s a combination of vulnerability combined with an uncommon beauty. But then, you realize that, don’t you?”
Eden sat very still. Yes, she did.
“My son is strongly attracted to you. You see, he’s a bit of Sir Galahad and Saint George all rolled into one. He enjoys championing lost causes such as farmers’ rights and reforms for tin miners. You are his latest cause, Miss Eden.”
“And for what reason would he champion me?”
“You? The poor lost waif?” Lady Penhollow mocked. “Come, you wanted honesty and I shall give it to you. You are not good enough for him.”
Her words went straight to Eden’s heart. “Why are you so certain?”
“Because women sense things about each other, Miss Eden. There’s too much the sensualist about you. A woman of quality doesn’t have such an air. Coupled with the vulnerability I discussed earlier, you are a very potent threat to my son’s well-being.” She leaned toward Eden. “Leave him alone. Leave all of us alone.”
Eden turned her head toward the window. Purple heather dotted the pastures on either side of the road. Beyond the fields were the moors and the rough beauty of the Cornish countryside.
Lady Penhollow dropped her voice to a conspirator’s tone. “I am not ungenerous. If you agree to
leave Cornwall, I shall pay your way to wherever it is you wish to go. But you must not let my son know of our agreement.”
Eden faced her. “I’m not a blackmailer, my lady. Nor do I pose that great a threat to you.”
“You’re as bold as they come,” she shot back. She shifted to her side of the coach. “But whether you accept my offer or not, understand that I will not let you have him. I will fight you every step of the way.”
“Lord Penhollow is not a man to be easily led.”
“Every man is easily led when it comes to a pretty face and trim ankles, my son included. But don’t put your faith in silly superstitions and rumors. Oh?” Lady Penhollow smiled. “You’re surprised I’ve heard of them, aren’t you? It is all the servants have been talking about since the day you appeared, but he won’t marry you, Miss Eden. He can’t. He has a responsibility to his title. You are a nobody and therefore unsuitable.”
Her cruel words pricked Eden’s already guilty conscience. She rubbed the gold medallion between her fingers… and knew Lady Penhollow was right.
They passed the remainder of the trip in silence. When they reached Penhollow Hall, Eden excused herself and hurried to her room. She opened the French doors and escaped into the garden.
The garden smelled of rain-clean air, blooming plants, and rich earth. How so very different from London and the world she once knew! It was more soothing and comforting than even Mary’s little patch had been. How far away her past and Lady Penhollow’s words seemed. And how close the smells and the velvety texture of the rose petals on her fingertips.
Standing in the middle of the garden, Eden had a blinding flash of insight. She’d thought she could have no better life than that of a man’s mistress or a well-paid prostitute in a brothel like Madame Indrani’s. Now she knew differently. Now, she wanted more, needed more—and she understood Lady Penhollow’s fear.
When had she changed? Had it been her friendship with Mary Westchester? Or did it have to do with her education and love of books?
Or was it her meeting Lord Penhollow?
She turned and faced the wing of the house opposite hers, the wing where his rooms were located. The Widow Haskell was wrong. She didn’t belong here. She must leave soon. But for one more night, she’d let herself dream that she could belong. The sun peeped from behind the clouds, sending a ray of light glinting on a window in Lord Penhollow’s wing. Perhaps it even belonged to his bedroom.
Staring at the reflection of the sun on the glass, Eden interpreted it as a sign. She could have one more night and then she must leave.
She promised herself she would not waste it.
Lord Penhollow stood in the front drawing room, helping himself to a glass of wine, when Eden made her entrance an hour later. Leeds, the coachman, had told Betsy and the other servants of Lady Penhollow’s rudeness. While helping Eden dress, Betsy had worried over the upcoming dinner engagement, since the Penhollow servants wouldn’t be present to support Eden.
But Eden had no fear. This was her last night and she would not allow Lady Penhollow and her friends to ruin it.
She’d chosen to wear the dress that had been designed specifically for her first meeting with the Sultan Ibn Sibah. The cream silk was cut daringly low, the very height of fashion, and shimmered with the movement of her body as she walked into the room. Pearls the size of the tip of her small finger had been embroidered in row upon row across the high-waisted bodice.
She wore no jewelry other than her gold medallion, but she didn’t need diamonds or other stones to set off this dress. Instead, she’d gathered her hair up in loose curls at the top of her head to let them fall freely down around her shoulders.
Lord Penhollow’s reaction to her entrance was everything she’d prayed it would be. He almost overfilled his glass and spilled wine on the floor. He caught himself in time and sat the glass and bottle down before walking across the carpet to greet her.
He wore formal black evening dress, relieved only by the snowy white of his shirt and neckcloth. Aristocratic and elegant, the style suited him. It emphasized the bright blue of his eyes and gave his muscular frame a lithe grace.
Now it was Eden’s turn to be dazzled. “You look very handsome this evening, my lord.”
He actually blushed, a dull stain that rose from his neck.
He lifted her gloved hand. “And let me say, you look stunning.” He kissed the back of her fingers.
Eden’s heart was beating so hard against her chest, she was certain he must hear it. This man was the one to whom she wanted to give her virginity. Not for a price, but as a gift, as the one thing she had to give.
They stood there, staring at each other like two fools, until Lady Penhollow’s sharp voice interrupted and reminded them of her presence. She rose from a settee by the hearth. “Come! We’re already late. We must leave now.” She left the room, walking between Eden and her son.
Lord Penhollow offered Eden his arm. “These evenings make Mother nervous.”
Eden didn’t care. She was with him and that was all that mattered—even if Betsy had warned her to be on her guard since Eden would be away from where the Penhollow servants could protect her.
They took a coach larger than the landaulet, the two women on one side, Lord Penhollow on the other. The sky had cleared and they enjoyed a magnificent sunset as the coach swayed and rolled its way down muddy roads. Whenever the coach hit a rut, Lord Penhollow’s knee rubbed against Eden’s leg. She pretended not to notice, savoring the contact.
He didn’t move or make an apology either until his mother questioned in an overloud voice, “Are we crowding you, Miss Eden?” Lord Penhollow inched his leg aside.
Mr. and Mrs. Willis lived in a lovely three-story brick Georgian less than half an hour from Penhollow Hall. Pulling up in the coach, the Penhollow party was greeted at the door by Mrs. Willis, herself a vision in purple. She wore a purple turban with a big purple plume held in place by a diamond the size of a man’s thumb. Her gauzy purple dress flowed behind her as she kissed Lady Penhollow’s cheek and then dramatically offered her hand to Lord Penhollow.
“Come in, come in. Everyone is already gathered waiting for you. Oh! And this must be Miss Eden.” She covered Eden’s hand with her own. The woman’s hands were cold. “I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. What an ordeal you have suffered. Dr. Hargrave was just telling us about it. Come let me introduce you to everyone.”
Eden followed, feeling a flutter of anxiety. She could find no fault with the woman’s words, they sounded very sincere, but the expression in Mrs. Willis’s eyes was too calculating for Eden’s taste.
In the drawing room, besides Dr. Hargrave, there was also Mr. Willis, a gray-haired gent as lean as his wife was wide, and their daughter Victoria. Victoria’s youth surprised Eden. She could barely be seventeen. A tall, narrow woman, she had her father’s doleful eyes and her mother’s receding chin. The front of her hair was a mass of frizzy curls parted in the middle and then pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck.
Mrs. Willis had barely finished the introductions before she added in a low voice, “And do stand straight, Victoria. A girl does not look her best when she slumps. After all, your intended is here!”
In answer, Victoria seemed to slump even more.
Mrs. Willis rolled her eyes in exasperation and dragged Eden over to another small group of people, Lord and Lady Baines, Lord and Lady Danbury and their houseguest, Mr. Whitacre, a seminary student on his way to London. Mr. Willis cornered Lord Penhollow to discuss recent mining developments.
“Your dress is very attractive, Miss Eden.”
Lady Baines said pleasantly. “Although it is a bit low-cut for country tastes, don’t you think?”
Eden didn’t dare meet Lady Penhollow’s gaze. Instead, she murmured something about it being the latest London fashion, aware that the attention of the men in this small group had shifted to her breasts. She wished she’d brought the Kashmir shawl with her.
“We understand yo
u suffer a loss of memory,” Lady Danbury said. “Dr. Hargrave was entertaining us with his opinion on the matter.”
“I think it’s all nonsense,” Lord Baines interjected. “Admit it, girl. Your memory is as good as mine.”
He was so blunt, Eden took a step back… almost stepping into Lord Penhollow.
Lord Penhollow caught her arm to steady her and, for a moment, their eyes met. She doubted if he’d heard what was said, but his presence created a ring of armor around her where doubts and anxiety could not reach her.
She smiled at Lord Baines. “My memory loss is not something I care to discuss,” she said, and silently dared him to challenge her with Lord Penhollow present. He did not.
Pleased, she turned to Mrs. Willis. “Is there a room where I may freshen up before dinner?”
“Victoria, dear,” Mrs. Willis called. “Please show Miss Eden to the room we’ve set aside for the ladies.” She then leaned closer and whispered furiously at her daughter, “And do stand straight. You’re hunching. You’re hunching.”
No one else except Eden seemed to think it odd the woman constantly corrected her daughter. They carried on their conversations as if Mrs. Wilhs had never spoken.
Victoria motioned for Eden to follow her.
They took the stairs to the second floor. A bedroom had been set aside for the use of their female guests.
Eden took a moment to freshen herself and then paused in front of a large wall mirror. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “So, is Mr. Whitacre your intended?” she asked Victoria as a way of making conversation.
“No, Lord Penhollow is.”
The floor seemed to drop out beneath Eden’s feet. She sat down on one of the cushioned chairs beside the bed. Where did Victoria fit into the villagers’ determination to marry her off to Lord Penhollow? “He is?” Her voice was barely audible.
Victoria stood by the closed door, her arms crossed against her chest. “You’re very pretty.”
WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE Page 12
