ready as I would ever be.
Chapter Four
Two Letters
I stood in the street and stared up at the redbrick mansion of Lady Catherine Dinley. The enormous Georgian townhome was perfectly symmetrical, each half a mirror reflection of the other. From the rows of large rectangular windows, I counted three full stories in addition to another floor built partially below ground level, most likely to house the servants. The front door stood dead center, framed on either side by decorative square stone columns. Four more square columns, two on either side of the home, ran along the brick façade some distance from the front door, stretching majestically from the ground up to the roofline.
The other carriage arrived shortly after us. A footman opened the door and Nora was the first to tumble out. She came up to me, her neck craned just as mine had been in an attempt to take in the entire house.
“Is this our humble lodgings?” she asked.
“Yes,” Henry answered. “I hope you find it to your liking. Lady Catherine Dinley is a most obliging woman.”
“Oh, dear,” Nora said, somewhat dismayed. “Another noble I am bound to offend with my simple ways. Do you think she will toss me out the first time I use her Christian name?” She turned toward me. “Don’t get too attached yet as we may be seeking another place to stay tonight.”
James stood on Nora’s other side. “Just be yourself,” he said kindly. “I’m sure Lady Dinley will understand.”
My mouth fell open with an indignant breath. Just be yourself! I could have strangled him as he looked at Nora with a sympathetic smile. Since our first meeting, I had tried to be myself and had only managed to earn James’s contempt for my efforts. As a fully committed Quaker, Nora posed ten times more of a threat to the peerage than I ever did, despite my strong dislike for the system. All I wanted was to marry a single lord. If she had her druthers, the entire noble class would be abolished, yet somehow I was the villain.
Clearly, the man was an idiot.
“You will find that Lady Dinley is not a typical noble,” Henry said, “which is probably why we get along so well. For a widow, she is quite liberal minded, and will not object to being informally addressed any more than I do. Besides, I’ve already warned her about your customs.”
There was a time, I thought, when Henry might have had a very different opinion regarding the use of titles, especially when being addressed by a commoner. Though not so long ago, that was before he had come to the Colonies and lived among the Quakers. For Nora’s sake, I hoped he was right about Lady Dinley.
“I’ll trust your opinion, Henry Fitzalan,” Nora said, still somewhat skeptical, “and will be prepared to duck all the same.”
Henry laughed and placed a hand on my elbow. “Shall we go inside?”
Six stone steps led to the front door where another powdered footman greeted us. Bowing deeply to Henry, he guided us through a large vestibule with a polished stone floor and high domed ceiling, into a formal drawing room. The richly papered walls and gilded furnishings exceeded anything I had ever seen before, and I had to fight the urge to turn a slow circle in awe. I settled instead for stealing surreptitious looks while attempting to keep a disinterested expression. Brighmor looked a beggar’s hovel in comparison.
“I will inform her ladyship of your arrival, my lord.” The footman bowed again to Henry, and left the room.
Nora rolled her eyes. “I’ve never seen so much bobbing in my entire life,” she said, apparently more concerned with the social customs than the beautiful room. “It’s a wonder the man isn’t half bent by the end of each day.”
“There is a rack below stairs for just that purpose,” a woman said, her pleasant voice catching us by surprise as she came into the room. “Some swear the device is only suitable for torture, but there’s nothing better to work the cricks out after a day of
Chapter Four
Two Letters
I stood in the street and stared up at the redbrick mansion of Lady Catherine Dinley. The enormous Georgian townhome was perfectly symmetrical, each half a mirror reflection of the other. From the rows of large rectangular windows, I counted three full stories in addition to another floor built partially below ground level, most likely to house the servants. The front door stood dead center, framed on either side by decorative square stone columns. Four more square columns, two on either side of the home, ran along the brick façade some distance from the front door, stretching majestically from the ground up to the roofline.
The other carriage arrived shortly after us. A footman opened the door and Nora was the first to tumble out. She came up to me, her neck craned just as mine had been in an attempt to take in the entire house.
“Is this our humble lodgings?” she asked.
“Yes,” Henry answered. “I hope you find it to your liking. Lady Catherine Dinley is a most obliging woman.”
“Oh, dear,” Nora said, somewhat dismayed. “Another noble I am bound to offend with my simple ways. Do you think she will toss me out the first time I use her Christian name?” She turned toward me. “Don’t get too attached yet as we may be seeking another place to stay tonight.”
James stood on Nora’s other side. “Just be yourself,” he said kindly. “I’m sure Lady Dinley will understand.”
My mouth fell open with an indignant breath. Just be yourself! I could have strangled him as he looked at Nora with a sympathetic smile. Since our first meeting, I had tried to be myself and had only managed to earn James’s contempt for my efforts. As a fully committed Quaker, Nora posed ten times more of a threat to the peerage than I ever did, despite my strong dislike for the system. All I wanted was to marry a single lord. If she had her druthers, the entire noble class would be abolished, yet somehow I was the villain.
Clearly, the man was an idiot.
“You will find that Lady Dinley is not a typical noble,” Henry said, “which is probably why we get along so well. For a widow, she is quite liberal minded, and will not object to being informally addressed any more than I do. Besides, I’ve already warned her about your customs.”
There was a time, I thought, when Henry might have had a very different opinion regarding the use of titles, especially when being addressed by a commoner. Though not so long ago, that was before he had come to the Colonies and lived among the Quakers. For Nora’s sake, I hoped he was right about Lady Dinley.
“I’ll trust your opinion, Henry Fitzalan,” Nora said, still somewhat skeptical, “and will be prepared to duck all the same.”
Henry laughed and placed a hand on my elbow. “Shall we go inside?”
Six stone steps led to the front door where another powdered footman greeted us. Bowing deeply to Henry, he guided us through a large vestibule with a polished stone floor and high domed ceiling, into a formal drawing room. The richly papered walls and gilded furnishings exceeded anything I had ever seen before, and I had to fight the urge to turn a slow circle in awe. I settled instead for stealing surreptitious looks while attempting to keep a disinterested expression. Brighmor looked a beggar’s hovel in comparison.
“I will inform her ladyship of your arrival, my lord.” The footman bowed again to Henry, and left the room.
Nora rolled her eyes. “I’ve never seen so much bobbing in my entire life,” she said, apparently more concerned with the social customs than the beautiful room. “It’s a wonder the man isn’t half bent by the end of each day.”
“There is a rack below stairs for just that purpose,” a woman said, her pleasant voice catching us by surprise as she came into the room. “Some swear the device is only suitable for torture, but there’s nothing better to work the cricks out after a day of
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