by Janet Woods
‘Damned dog, Saville spoils him,’ Charlotte said grumpily and, tucking a cushion under her head, reclined into a corner and fell instantly asleep. Not so Graine, for this ethereal start to the morning had entranced her, and continued to entrance her until the mist was dispersed by the heat of the sun to disappeared into a blue, cloudless sky.
Saville was on horseback. He cut a dashing figure in his blue, single-breasted frock coat, dark breeches and knee-length cape. His calves and feet were encased in a comfortable pair of half-jack boots.
As the carriage wheels measured the miles, Graine began to relax. If Captain Younger had informed Saville of what he knew, he would have said something by now.
Saville had forgotten all about William Younger’s note, but he’d memorized every word of Evelyn’s love letter. His fingertips carried a kiss from his lips to the pocket over his heart. Her letter had made him smile a little, for the parchment had been tied with a pink ribbon bow, and Evelyn had sounded like a lovesick girl in it, instead of a mature young lady of twenty-six years. He couldn’t help being flattered at the thought of being so adored, though.
My dearest love,
I cannot believe the truth my heart presents me with, that a man so generous of nature, humble of heart and honest in his ways, holds this most humble of females most precious to his heart.
I am afraid Saville, fearful I’ll wake to discover your affection for me was merely a dream––an illusion which sprang from the mind of one who loves you truly, and for all of eternity.
Worse, would be to discover that the regard you display towards me is a whimsy, or have it changed into disdain by circumstance, for now I’ve been uplifted by the sweetness of your love, nothing can ever dislodge you from my heart.
Your Eve.
Something bothered Saville about the letter, and it wasn’t her uncertainty, which not only made his heart ache, but also heightened the tender feelings of protection he felt for her. He wondered though, what made her think he was so fickle of nature that his love might become disdain?
He tried to put it from his mind during the tedious journey to Poole. Although he’d made sure the road was kept in good repair to the boundary of his land, beyond, it was full of ruts and potholes. Of necessity, for Saville didn’t want to risk injury to his coach horses, they were forced to slow down. Even so, the coaches were jolted this way and that, forcing the two women inside to hang on tightly.
They encountered no trouble boarding a ship at Poole, and they headed out past Brownsea Island to sail leisurely around the coast and eventually into the mouth of the river Thames.
Charlotte was affected badly by the motion on the ship, and lay on her bunk, day and night, looking pale and sickly. ‘It’s not motion sickness, for I have felt this way on several occasions of late, and my courses have not arrived. I think I’m with child,’ Charlotte told her in a matter-of-fact voice and, managing a wan smile when Graine exclaimed with delight, added, ‘I hope to present my husband with a son, this time.’
Saville managed to snatch only one private moment with Graine. They took the air on deck together, where he gently kissed the palm of her hand and told her he loved her. ‘How are you coping with Charlotte?’
‘She doesn’t like being fussed over and suspects her sickness is caused by other than the motion of the ship.’
‘Ah … I understand. I’m to become an uncle again.’ He thought about it for a few moments, then grinned at her, saying softly, ‘I would enjoy being a father, I think.’
A delicate blush stained Graine’s cheeks and she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. ‘I’m glad, for some men seem indifferent to the existence of their offspring.’
The sadness in her voice touched him. ‘It sounds as if you speak from experience. Was Seth Adams such a man?’
She nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment, then said so quietly that he had to strain to hear her above the slapping sea and hissing wind, ‘The man was never a father to me.’ She glanced up at him then, her eyes startled and wide, her face draining of color. ‘I meant, of course, that he died when I was young, so I cannot really remember him being paternal.’
‘I understand. My own father died when I was young, too.’ For some reason, the elusive puzzle her letter had presented him with was suddenly resolved. There had been no sign of the awkward phrases or spelling mistakes of her earlier one … it was as though the letter had been written by a different person. In fact, he could almost swear it had been written by a different hand altogether. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the earlier one to compare it with.
‘Evelyn,’ he said, ‘Do you remember the letter you wrote to me when I was negotiating on behalf of John Lamartine?’
She started slightly and her eyes darted to the hatch leading to below deck. ‘Of course I remember. I must get back to Charlotte. She’s not looking at all well.’
He detained her with a hand on her arm. ‘Did you write that letter?’
There was a watchful stillness about her now. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Your writing has improved considerably and I wondered if the same person had penned both notes.’
She gazed at him for a moment then, gave an odd, breathless sort of laugh and mumbled. ‘As I recall, I was unwell at the time and I dictated it to my companion.’
‘Ah yes, poor Graine,’ he said, ‘Such an unusual and pretty name. It must have caused her much amusement to have written about herself in such a manner.’
Tears glistened in his companion’s eyes. ‘Graine found much in life to amuse her, despite her circumstances. But she is gone and cannot be brought back. You will excuse me now, for to think of her causes me much distress.’ And she was discovering that being someone else was a responsibility difficult to maintain.
‘I’m sorry, my love. I won’t mention her again. Thank you for your note. I was touched by it, and will keep it close to my heart. Rest assured, the love I feel for you will remain constant, whatever circumstances may arise.’
Graine prayed his constancy would never be put it to the test as she hurried away.
Chapter Ten
Indistinguishable from its adjoining neighbors, Saville’s London home was situated in Hanover Square. The house fronts were protected by posts and chains, within which people paraded in their finery. Beyond was the road, where carriages and horses came and went. The square in the middle accommodated vendors, who sold goods of many varieties.
Her mind already exhausted by the colorful crowds, smells and sights of London, Graine was grateful to step inside a hall of quiet serenity. Blue and white were the predominant colors, with touches of gold in the candle sconces, the chandelier and the wall paneling.
Charlotte immediately headed upstairs, her maid hurrying after. Saville was drawn to one side by a male servant, and, giving her an apologetic look, preceded him into the nearest room.
Graine sank on to a velvet chair with gilt legs and watched the servants scurry here and there, hauling their luggage upstairs.
Jessie assumed a rather haughty manner as she told one of them to take Miss Adams’ luggage to the best guest chamber at the front, and she’d come up and inspect it to make sure it was clean.
Which she did. There was the sound of scolding. A couple of maids scurried downstairs, long of face, only to dash upstairs again with a dusters and clean bed linens in their arms.
A little while later the maids came back down again, looking all flustered. Jessie was behind them, grinning all over her face. She watched them move out of ear-shot and whispered, ‘Those harping cats have nothing to do for half the year, then the think they can give me a length of their tongues when I ask them to put the room to rights. They needs a cane across their––’
Saville came out of the room and smiled at her. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had to wait. The servants didn’t know we were coming. I hope you’re looking after her, Jessie?’
The maids slunk past Jessie with steaming jugs of water and headed up the stairs.
‘I’ve al
located Miss Adams to the guest chamber at the front.’
Saville grinned, and they exchanged a glance of mutual amusement when Jessie sent a shriveling look after the maids and raised her voice.
‘I’ll take Miss Adams up and she can rest whilst her bath is being prepared.’
‘Good … good, I’ll see you at dinner, then Evelyn. You’ll have to excuse me now. I have some urgent business I must attend to.’
Graine guessed that the business was a quiet glass of wine in the solitude of the study whilst the domestic issues were sorted out.
She followed Jessie upstairs to a room overlooking the street. It had a little dressing room in which there was a truckle bed. Jessie gazed at it in some satisfaction. ‘We shall be right comfortable here, I can tell you. At least I won’t be stuck in with that pair of London mop squeezers. They couldn’t raise a breeze with a broom if they tried.’
The pair in question was filling the bath and exchanging grimaces and grins. ‘You can stop making those silly faces and fetch Miss Adams some tea when you’ve finished filling the tub,’ Jessie said to them.
They giggled and dropped Jessie a curtsy. ‘Yes, your ladyship.’
‘Cheeky madams.’
Graine couldn’t stifle her smile. ‘I think there’s enough water in the tub. What are your names?’
The taller one said, ‘We are Millie and Mollie Perkins, Miss. We’re sisters.’
‘You’re very much alike. I doubt if I’ll remember which one is which.’
‘We’ll have no airs and graces from them. They can both answer to Perkins,’ Jessie said, the name tripping from her mouth with some scorn, ‘And a right lazy pair of Perkins they are, too.’
Graine sent them a rueful smile. ‘I’m sure they’re not.’
‘No, Miss, it’s just … well, everyone arrived at once and shouted for this and that, and it put the household in a bit of a stir.’
‘From now on address his lordship’s guest as Miss Adams, else you’ll be hearing it from the earl, himself,’ Jessie hissed.
The younger Perkins sniffed and the older one tossed her head. Off they went without another word, their eyes glittering with affront.
‘You were too sharp with them, Jessie,’ Graine admonished when they were alone. ‘They’re doing their best. I don’t like feelings to be hurt for no reason. It causes resentment and brings tension to a house.’
The snap went out of the maid. ‘I’m worn to a frazzle after that journey, that’s for certain.’
‘Then go and rest. I can see to myself.’
A stubborn glint came into her eyes. ‘Not whilst I’ve got breath left in my body, for the earl himself put you in my charge. I’ll rest after you’ve bathed and changed, and not a moment before.’
So Graine was forced to hurry when she would have relaxed and lingered, and Jessie’s fingers were clumsy with fatigue as she hurriedly dressed her hair. The maid fell asleep almost as soon as she lay on the truckle.
Graine had chosen a gown of bronze-tinted satin to wear, with deep embroidered cuff sleeves and bodice, over lace flounces. The sea air had lent a healthy bloom to her cheeks. Her hair was untidy, with wisps escaping from under her cap. She frowned and, pulling off her cap, shook it loose.
The taller Perkins came in with refreshment for her. The girl handed her a posy of red peonies. ‘The earl asked me to give you this. He bought them himself from a street vendor.’
‘Thank you, Millie.’
The girl grinned. ‘It’s Mollie, Miss Adams.’ Her glance swept over her loose hair. ‘You have lovely hair. Allow me style it for you. I could fashion a pretty pom-pom from the flowers and ribbons.’
So Graine’s hair was expertly dressed in a prettier style than Jessie could manage, with finger ringlets curling at her ears and the nape of her neck. The style was enhanced by a frivolous pom-pom of peonies and ribbons worn at the crown of her head. A single flower was attached to the pearl necklace around her throat. It sat moistly in the small hollow, where the warmth of her pulse beating against it released a subtle fragrance.
Graine smiled gratefully at her. ‘I must apologize for Jessie. She’s tired after the journey.’
‘We won’t pay her no mind, for she’s getting on in years and is set in her ways. If you want to look special for an occasion, you ask for me to attend you, Miss Adams, for I study all the latest fashions and know where gowns and accessories can be bought in a hurry at any time of night or day.’
‘Thank you, Mollie.’
‘The earl said that when you’re ready he’d be honored if you’d join him in the drawing room until dinner is served.’
‘I’d enjoy that,’ she said dreamily, and followed the girl downstairs.
Saville was in black trimmed with silver braid, his waistcoat was of patterned brocade the color of burgundy, and his dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. He wasn’t a slavish follower of fashion. Jessie had told her he didn’t favor wigs, and Graine had never seen him wear one.
The admiration in his eyes as his glance went to the flower at her throat was too blatant, his smile to wide to be ignored. She found herself all of a blush.
‘Come here,’ he growled, when Mollie closed the door behind her. Pulled into his arms, she became the recipient of a long and hungry kiss before he stooped to kiss the flower-scented hollow in her throat. He gazed at her face afterwards, laughing. ‘I cannot resist such provocation.’
‘Then I must provoke you more often.’
‘You most certainly must.’ He slid his finger down the length of her nose. ‘Charlotte has decided to stay in her chamber, so we only have each other for company. Would you like a glass of wine?’
‘Just a little, for too much makes me sleepy.’
He filled a glass and brought it up to her lips whilst she drank, then took a sip or two from the place where her mouth had rested. ‘I have never tasted wine so sweet,’ he said, and handed the glass back to her. ‘I’ve sent a message to John, telling him we’re in town and will call on him in the morning.’
Her smile faded a little.
‘You need not worry, my love. I’m looking forward to straightening the matter out, for deceit does not sit easy with me.’
‘Yes, it must be straightened out.’ She tried to ignore the feeling of dread lodged in her heart, but it persisted, spoiling the intimate dinner they shared. She hardly tasted the tender-fleshed chicken, which had been cooked in a mixture of
wine and delicately flavored herbs, or the variety of steamed vegetables which accompanied it. The apple pie with its sweet, crispy pastry, tasted like ashes in her mouth.
‘You will not regain your strength if you do not eat,’ Saville said, observing the amount of food still left on her plate. ‘Won’t you swallow a little more for me, my sweet.’ She nearly choked on tears at the tender concern on his face, managing a few more mouthfuls just to see him smile.
When the dishes had been cleared away and it was time for her to go to bed, she hugged him tight for a few precious moments. ‘Remember always that I love you, Saville.’
‘My angel, what is it?’
‘I just wanted you to know.’ A final hug and she was gone, her way to her chamber lit by candles flickering in wall sconces. Jessie was still asleep, but someone had lit the candles and her night-clothes had been laid out.
Undressing, she slipped under the covers and lay there in the dark, inhaling the scent of the peony on the table at her bedside. She was thinking of Saville and how much she loved him, and how one small slip on her part or that of another, could bring her happiness tumbling down around her.
The sounds of the house gradually quieted and she drifted between sleep and wakefulness. But she must have slept, for she jerked awake to a grey, overcast dawn, and to the sound of someone knocking at the door in the street below.
Then Jessie came in with water to wash with, and the ritual of her toilette began, so she could ready herself for the day.
‘Folks keep funny
hours in London,’ Jessie grumbled as she shook the folds from a dark blue gown. ‘Fancy sending a message round at this time of morning when quality folk are still rising from their beds. Best to wear the velvet jacket with the fur trim over this,’ she muttered. ‘The weather can’t make up its mind whether it’s winter or spring today.’
Jessie’s energy seemed to have renewed itself over-night, for the brush was applied with vigor and her hair was pulled so tightly that it tugged painfully at her scalp. Braided, it was swept up under a cap. A lace fichu was placed around her shoulders, tucked under the bodice at the front, and pinned by her mother’s brooch. The ornament looked new now it had been polished.
Mollie came in with a beaker of steaming chocolate just as Jessie walked out with the chamber pot. ‘And about time too,’ she sniffed as they swept past each other.
Mollie called after her. ‘Cook said you didn’t come down for your dinner last night, and if you don’t want to miss breakfast as well, you’d better go to the kitchen for it now. I’ll tidy up in here whilst you’re gone.’
Whilst Graine drank the chocolate, Mollie re-braided her hair, threading a blue ribbon through it and tying it with a bow at the bottom and another at the nape of her neck. She teased some ringlets from it, giving the style a much softer appearance and changed the round cap for a frivolous one of lace and ruffles.
‘There, that looks better, Miss Adams. That Jessie had nearly pulled it out by the roots. It would have given you a fine old headache by the end of the day. The earl is waiting for you to go down to breakfast. Better not keep him waiting. A messenger brought a message for John Lamartine, and the master is out of sorts this morning. He’s already had words with Miss Charlotte. She’s in a right old pother, and has instructed her maid to ready her to leave.’
Saville hardly raised a smile when she went down, but she caught his glance on her often as they broke fast. She’d almost finished eating when he said abruptly. ‘That brooch you wear. I meant to ask you before … where did you get it?’
