I can
hardly make her out. She watches us all so intently, listens to our
conversations and yet does not offer up a view unless specifically asked for
one.
It was
only as they made their return journey to the house in the dark that another
thought occurred to Rose. It hit her so forcibly, and so suddenly, that she actually
stopped in her tracks causing Vera to walk into her and Felix to give her a
concerned look and ask if anything was the matter. In truth she was not sure
how to answer him. For only now had something struck her, something that seemed
to make no sense at all given their respective stations in life. But, as she
recalled those huddled figures, it was as if she were seeing them in a new,
much clearer light. What was it that Emmeline was seeking so desperately from
Jemima? Did she have a constant need for reassurance or was it a desire for
something else? Was she not after all looking to Jemima for something more, approval
even? And if she was, then surely that could only mean one thing. The heiress
was afraid of her companion.
Chapter Six
Rose
mulled over the curious relationship between Emmeline and Jemima while she was
dressing for dinner that evening. As a consequence, without thinking, she dressed
with the same haste that she employed when getting ready for a day in Madame
Renard’s dress shop when she had little, if any, time to spare. Still engrossed
in her thoughts, she neglected to consult her wristwatch before descending the
staircase and, much to her dismay, found that she was the first down. She
admonished herself for having been so preoccupied with thinking about the
heiress and her companion to the exclusion of all else, for she did not relish the
prospect of having to wait for her fellow diners to join her in the drawing
room for cocktails. There was Vera’s magazine to read of course while she
waited, but otherwise little to do but stand around rather self-consciously,
and awkwardly, alone.
She had
just made up her mind to return to her room when the door of the drawing room
opened, thus preventing her escape. Before she could speculate as to the
identity of the newcomer, Count Fernand walked into the room, dressed in his
usual flamboyant finery, which did not look so very out of place in the evening.
If he was disappointed to find that she was the only one down, rather than the
much favoured Lavinia or Emmeline, he did not show it. Rose wondered, after a
moment of awkwardness on both their parts, whether he wasn’t after all a little
pleased to have an opportunity to speak to her alone.
‘Ah, Miss
Simpson.’ He came towards her and gave a low bow. ‘We are the first down, are
we not? What does this signify, do you think? Are the others a little slow or
are you and I a little too eager to partake of our cocktails?’ He gave her a
disarming smile.
For the
first time Rose saw his appeal. There was something so charming and affable about
his manner that she found herself laughing with him. She had had few occasions
to converse with him since his arrival, his attentions having usually been
directed towards Lavinia and Emmeline. Receiving his undivided attention as she
now was, and thus experiencing the full force of his personality, she began to
understand why Lavinia had invited him to stay at Sedgwick. The man certainly
had a knack of making himself agreeable. There was something appealing too
about his quaint way of speaking, coupled with his voice with its foreign
accent. The effect of which was to make his words sound more fascinating than
perhaps they really were.
‘This is
a very beautiful estate that the young earl has, is it not? Lakes and parkland
as far as the eye can see and all beautifully tended. England is certainly a
green and pleasant land, is it not, for the likes of the Earl of Belvedere? And
Lavinia is indeed fortunate to live here. To have a brother who is so
attentive, she is most lucky, is she not?’ He looked at her keenly and smiled,
the whiteness of his
hardly make her out. She watches us all so intently, listens to our
conversations and yet does not offer up a view unless specifically asked for
one.
It was
only as they made their return journey to the house in the dark that another
thought occurred to Rose. It hit her so forcibly, and so suddenly, that she actually
stopped in her tracks causing Vera to walk into her and Felix to give her a
concerned look and ask if anything was the matter. In truth she was not sure
how to answer him. For only now had something struck her, something that seemed
to make no sense at all given their respective stations in life. But, as she
recalled those huddled figures, it was as if she were seeing them in a new,
much clearer light. What was it that Emmeline was seeking so desperately from
Jemima? Did she have a constant need for reassurance or was it a desire for
something else? Was she not after all looking to Jemima for something more, approval
even? And if she was, then surely that could only mean one thing. The heiress
was afraid of her companion.
Chapter Six
Rose
mulled over the curious relationship between Emmeline and Jemima while she was
dressing for dinner that evening. As a consequence, without thinking, she dressed
with the same haste that she employed when getting ready for a day in Madame
Renard’s dress shop when she had little, if any, time to spare. Still engrossed
in her thoughts, she neglected to consult her wristwatch before descending the
staircase and, much to her dismay, found that she was the first down. She
admonished herself for having been so preoccupied with thinking about the
heiress and her companion to the exclusion of all else, for she did not relish the
prospect of having to wait for her fellow diners to join her in the drawing
room for cocktails. There was Vera’s magazine to read of course while she
waited, but otherwise little to do but stand around rather self-consciously,
and awkwardly, alone.
She had
just made up her mind to return to her room when the door of the drawing room
opened, thus preventing her escape. Before she could speculate as to the
identity of the newcomer, Count Fernand walked into the room, dressed in his
usual flamboyant finery, which did not look so very out of place in the evening.
If he was disappointed to find that she was the only one down, rather than the
much favoured Lavinia or Emmeline, he did not show it. Rose wondered, after a
moment of awkwardness on both their parts, whether he wasn’t after all a little
pleased to have an opportunity to speak to her alone.
‘Ah, Miss
Simpson.’ He came towards her and gave a low bow. ‘We are the first down, are
we not? What does this signify, do you think? Are the others a little slow or
are you and I a little too eager to partake of our cocktails?’ He gave her a
disarming smile.
For the
first time Rose saw his appeal. There was something so charming and affable about
his manner that she found herself laughing with him. She had had few occasions
to converse with him since his arrival, his attentions having usually been
directed towards Lavinia and Emmeline. Receiving his undivided attention as she
now was, and thus experiencing the full force of his personality, she began to
understand why Lavinia had invited him to stay at Sedgwick. The man certainly
had a knack of making himself agreeable. There was something appealing too
about his quaint way of speaking, coupled with his voice with its foreign
accent. The effect of which was to make his words sound more fascinating than
perhaps they really were.
‘This is
a very beautiful estate that the young earl has, is it not? Lakes and parkland
as far as the eye can see and all beautifully tended. England is certainly a
green and pleasant land, is it not, for the likes of the Earl of Belvedere? And
Lavinia is indeed fortunate to live here. To have a brother who is so
attentive, she is most lucky, is she not?’ He looked at her keenly and smiled,
the whiteness of his
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