‘What did you think of your father’s art collection?’
‘I’m amazed by it,’ I said, ‘but there’s too much to take in all at once. I shall enjoy revisiting the paintings one by one.’
‘When the weather improves I’ll show you the statues in the garden, Emilia,’ said Father. ‘You’ve seen enough for today and now I have estate business to attend to.’
After he had left us I leaned back on the sofa.
‘You look exhausted, dear,’ said Aunt Maude. ‘I’m afraid your father always forgets the time when he’s talking about art.’
‘But it’s good to feel so passionate about something, isn’t it?’
Aunt Maude pursed her lips. ‘Sometimes you can have too much of a good thing.’
Chapter 16
On Christmas Eve I awoke to find the inside of my bedroom windows etched with frost flowers. I rubbed the glass with a fingertip to reveal that it had snowed during the night and caught my breath at the beauty of the scene. The sun shone in a blue sky and the skeletons of the leafless trees were crusted as if with glittering diamonds.
When Daisy brought me my morning chocolate she found me curled up on the window seat, watching the birds hopping about in the snow.
‘Isn’t it lovely?’ I said.
‘You’ll catch your death by the window, miss.’
‘I’ll have my chocolate in bed,’ I said, retreating to the warmth of the four-poster.
Later, dressed in my warmest clothes, I let myself out of the garden door. The terrace was slippery with snow and I trod carefully down the steps to the parterre. Marble statues were placed at intervals around the garden and gravel paths followed the curving patterns of the flowerbeds, all edged with clipped box. In the centre was a pool with a fountain, where icicles clung to the rim of the bowl, as if the water had suddenly been turned to ice by magic. There was something very beautiful about an entirely white garden.
I walked down to the moat and stood on the bank, careful not to slip on the snowy grass. Bulrushes, sparkling with frost, crowded against the bank and a pair of ducks paddled by. I looked back at Langdon Hall, blinking in the bright light reflected off the snow. There were stables to one side of the house and a walled garden to the other with the whole surrounded by the moat. My heart swelled with pride because this lovely place belonged to my father and I was able to claim borrowed ownership of it, even if only for a while. If I’d had a letter from Alessandro the day would have been perfect.
I heard a shout and saw Father hurrying through the parterre.
‘You’re up early,’ he said. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold.
‘I couldn’t resist coming out to look at the snow,’ I said. ‘It’s a shame our footsteps have spoiled its perfection.’
‘There’ll be fresh snow tomorrow.’ He tucked my arm through the crook of his. ‘The servants are bringing in the Yule log and the Christmas greenery this morning. I wondered if you’d like to direct them with decorating the hall?’
‘I’d be glad to,’ I said.
‘Then shall we have an early breakfast before you set to work?’
The Yule log, all wrapped in hazel twigs, was dragged indoors by the gardener and his boys and deposited in the huge stone hearth in the hall. Mrs Bannister clapped her hands for the housemaids to clear up the pieces of brushwood and clumps of mud and moss that lay scattered in its wake. Another maid was sent to fetch the small piece of charred wood retained from the previous year’s log and the household watched while the ancient tradition was followed of using it to light the new one. Once the fire was crackling, the servants returned to their duties.
‘That should burn for a few days,’ said Mrs Bannister. ‘Sir Frederick said you’re happy to oversee the decorating, Miss Emilia?’
‘I look forward to it,’ I said.
She bustled away to organise someone else.
The gardener’s boys had deposited a large heap of holly and other greenery on the floor and stood by with knives and twine awaiting my instructions. There was much good-natured chatter as I had them running up and down ladders to hang the garlands of greenery.
Two hours later Aunt Maude came to find me. ‘It’s looking very festive, dear,’ she said. ‘And the Yule log is blazing well now.’
I wound another piece of ivy around one of the iron light fittings that had been lowered onto the vast refectory table and turned to study the fruits of my labour. The stags’ heads had all been given ivy wreaths and a crown of holly. A mistletoe kissing ball decorated with red ribbons hung at each end of the hall and wreaths made from bay, rosemary and holly hung at intervals along the panelling, joined by thick swags of ivy. Scented pomanders were piled in silver bowls and their fragrant perfume mingled with the resinous scent of the Yuletide greenery.
‘It’s a magnificent room, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘I can imagine the minstrels of a couple of hundred years ago singing in the gallery while the lord of the manor feasted below, throwing chicken bones over his shoulder to the dogs.’
‘I’m not sure what Mrs Bannister would have had to say about that,’ said Aunt Maude.
I called to one of the gardener’s boys and set him to winching the branched light fittings, as large as a waggon wheel, back up to the ceiling before collecting the remaining scraps of greenery into a heap. ‘I’ll tell Mrs Bannister I’ve finished.’
‘Send a message by one of the servants,’ said Aunt Maude. ‘Then you must go and change before Adolphus Pemberton arrives. I shall wait for you in the library.’
I added a final sprig of holly to one of the wreaths and then went to find the housekeeper. The buttery was behind the carved wooden screen at the end of the hall and a passage led to the domestic quarters. I glanced through an open door to see a footman polishing an array of silver dishes. A clatter of pans came from the kitchen, together with the sound of frantic chopping and the aroma of boiling ham. I called out to a passing scullery maid.
‘Where will I find the housekeeper?’
‘Mrs Bannister’s room is at the end of the passage, past the stillroom,’ she said. ‘Shall I fetch her for you?’
‘That’s all right,’ I said, ‘I’m sure I’ll find her.’
The girl gave me an uncertain look and scurried away, the bucket banging against her skinny legs.
I tapped on the housekeeper’s door.
She sat at a table and rose to her feet when she saw me. ‘Miss Emilia! Is everything all right?’
‘I’ve finished decorating the hall,’ I said, ‘but a maid will need to sweep up the trimmings.’
Her mouth was set in a disapproving line. ‘Will that be all?’
Unsure what I’d done to make her cross, I nodded.
‘Robert will escort you back to the hall.’
‘I’m sure I shall find the way.’
‘Nevertheless,’ she said, ‘please come with me.’
The footman was called away from the silver cleaning and hastily removed his protective cambric cuffs and apron before leading me back to the hall.
‘Thank you, Robert,’ I said. ‘Will you ask Daisy to attend me?’
He bowed his head and returned to the domestic quarters.
Aunt Maude was walking upstairs as I hurried up to change.
‘I found the housekeeper in her parlour and she’ll send a maid to sweep up,’ I said.
Aunt Maude came to a sudden stop. ‘You went to Mrs Bannister’s parlour?’ Her tone of voice was scandalised.
‘Why shouldn’t I?’ I asked.
‘My dear, you have a great deal to learn. Always send for the housekeeper and never wander about below stairs. The servants will think you’re spying on them.’
‘I didn’t mean any harm.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ said Aunt Maude, ‘but you have a position to maintain in your father’s house.’ She sighed. ‘There are so many things I must teach you, to make you fit for society.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘Not to shrug and wave
your hands about when you are speaking, for example.’
‘I don’t!’ I frowned. ‘Do I?’
Aunt Maude inclined her head. ‘It’s an unbecomingly continental habit and will not be well received in an English drawing room. You must never appear excessively animated, Emilia, as you are wont to do.’ She patted my cheek. ‘Don’t look so forlorn, my dear. Your intentions are good and you have natural grace. We’ll soon turn you into an English lady.’
We stopped outside her bedroom door. ‘I’ll see you downstairs in a little while,’ I said.
As I walked along the gallery, I heard a horse trot into the quadrangle below. I peered out of the window to see a man in a caped travelling coat dismounting from a grey. I wondered if this was my father’s heir. Curious, I watched as a groom came to take the horse but then the man disappeared into the house.
Washed and changed into my blue dress, with my hair brushed and beribboned, I went downstairs to the library. My father was seated by the fire reading a newspaper and Aunt Maude was sorting her embroidery silks.
‘You look delightful, my dear,’ said Father, standing up as I came in. ‘That dress brings out the blue of your eyes.’
‘Emilia is so like her mother, isn’t she?’ said Aunt Maude. ‘Have you shown her Rose’s portrait, Frederick?’
‘There’s a picture of my mother?’ My heart began to race. ‘And you didn’t show it to me yesterday?’
Father sighed. ‘I thought it might distress you.’
‘Why should it?’ I asked. ‘May I see it?’
‘Another time since Adolphus is expected imminently.’
‘I saw a man arriving a little while ago. What is he like, this heir of yours?’ I asked.
Father steepled his fingers while he thought. ‘A well-educated gentleman of fashion,’ he said, ‘though not interested in art.’
‘He’s a dandy,’ said Aunt Maude, succinctly.
‘I can see, then,’ I said, ‘that he falls far short of being your ideal heir, Father.’
He laughed. ‘You’re beginning to understand me very well, Emilia.’
Before I could reply the door opened and Robert announced, ‘Mr Adolphus Pemberton.’
My father’s heir paused in the doorway with a slight smile on his handsome face. His elaborately tied cravat gave him no option but to look down his nose at us. He was taller than average, his long legs encased in buff trousers and his cut-away coat impeccably tailored. His skin was very light against his dark hair, which was carefully arranged in Grecian-style curls.
‘Adolphus,’ said Father, standing up. ‘I trust you had a good journey?’
‘Tolerable.’ The vision of elegance advanced into the room. ‘Aunt Maude,’ he said, bowing low before her. ‘Always a pleasure.’
‘Emilia,’ said Father, ‘may I present your second cousin, Adolphus Pemberton.’
Adolphus bowed and I inclined my head.
‘So,’ he drawled, ‘it’s to be Emilia and not Harriet, is it? And, please, all my friends call me Dolly. Adolphus is terribly formal, don’t you think?’
I glanced at Father, who gave me the briefest of nods. ‘I’m delighted to meet another member of my family,’ I murmured, slightly discomfited by Dolly’s gimlet gaze.
‘Indeed. Your return to the family fold is the talk of the ton, dear coz.’ He cleared his throat and sat down on the sofa beside me.
‘It was a most’ – I paused momentarily – ‘unexpected turn of events and I’m only now becoming used to the idea of belonging to a family.’
‘Your father called me to meet him at his club,’ said Dolly, ‘and explained that you’d returned from the dead and how you’d been living.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘Too dreadful to contemplate.’
‘I didn’t remember any other life,’ I said, ‘so I was quite happy.’
‘But, in retrospect,’ said Dolly, ‘you must be very angry with the maid who stole you?’
A momentary picture of Sarah’s anxious face formed in my mind and I felt a pang of loss. ‘It’s exhausting to be angry all the time about something you can’t change,’ I said. ‘Now I must look to the future.’
‘And what does the future hold for you?’ His dark blue eyes were fixed upon me again.
‘As to that,’ I said, ‘it’s too early to say.’ I knew what he was really asking was if I was going to run off with some of his expected inheritance. ‘I’m happy to accept my father’s invitation to return to the family home for a while. After that,’ I gave him a bright smile, ‘who knows?’
‘Who knows, indeed?’ he murmured.
On Christmas morning it snowed again and, in deference to Aunt Maude’s age, we decided not to risk slipping on the ice and took the carriage to St Bartholomew’s in the village.
I was uncomfortably aware of the curious gaze of several members of the congregation and of the whispering going on behind gloved hands as we sat in the Langdon pew. I supposed if I had been in their shoes I’d have been curious, too, about the girl who’d returned from the dead. I stared straight ahead, my cheeks burning.
Father squeezed my hand. ‘They’ll soon lose interest,’ he murmured. ‘You must admit, it’s an extraordinary story.’
Dolly gave me a sideways glance of amusement as he sang the hymns in a light tenor. ‘Hold your head up high, coz,’ he whispered.
The sermon was interminable and my thoughts drifted to Alessandro, wishing he were beside me. An impatient rustling mounted amongst the worshippers who wanted their Christmas dinner. Prayers were said for the King’s recovery from the chill to his lungs.
At last it was over and we milled about with the rest of the congregation to wish the vicar a Merry Christmas. Several churchgoers jostled us, to pass on their festive greetings to Father and to take a good look at me, and I was relieved when we climbed into the carriage and returned to Langdon Hall.
Father’s guests, mostly local landowners, a few couples from London, the vicar and several worthy spinsters, began to arrive at five o’clock and were shown into the library. The story of my return had spread like wildfire through the county, and by the time Dolly led me into dinner, I felt like an exhibit in a circus freak show.
In the hall the Yule log crackled and spat in the hearth as the thirty guests found their places. Once we were assembled the vicar said grace and there was a scraping of chairs until everyone was seated.
I looked at the expectant faces as the guests chattered to their neighbours. I sat on Father’s right at the head of the table. ‘This room was made for feasting,’ I said. ‘It’s wonderful to know that Christmas has been celebrated here for generations and the tradition will continue far into the future.’
‘I do hope so,’ said Father. ‘Although, unfortunately, not with a Langdon at the head of the table.’ He turned to Dolly. ‘Emilia has made an elegant job of decorating the hall, don’t you think?’
‘Admirable,’ he replied. ‘Your daughter has good taste.’
I glanced up at the ivy wreaths wound around the light fittings, the candle flames flickering in the warm rising air. The hall was perfumed with the scent of evergreens, cinnamon, oranges and mulled wine, and I was pleased with my efforts.
Bannister the butler poured the wine and the footmen brought in course after course of dishes. Father explained this was the latest fashion, introduced by the Prince Regent, of serving dinner à la russe, instead of having all the dishes placed on the table in two or three removes.
A trio of musicians played in the gallery but the music could barely be heard over the hubbub of conversation.
‘Your father keeps a fine table,’ said Dolly, as we ate white soup, followed by stuffed pike with oysters and fried sole. ‘I believe even the Prince Regent, well known for his extravagant tastes, would find no fault if he were here.’
‘Do you know the Prince Regent?’ I asked.
‘A passing acquaintance,’ said Dolly. ‘Your father knows him better than I do.’ He smiled. ‘Prinny admired my cravat.’
/> ‘What is he like?’ I asked, curious about the Princess’s husband.
Dolly cleared his throat and leaned closer. ‘Between the two of us, he’s rather fat. Although known for his modish style and wit, his extravagant lifestyle has done his figure no favours. When he bends, he creaks.’
‘Creaks?’
Dolly’s eyes gleamed with malice. ‘Whalebone corset,’ he said, succinctly.
I stared at my plate and bit the inside of my cheeks in an attempt to stop myself from laughing.
The Dressmaker’s Secret Page 16
