A Lady in Disguise by Cynthia Bailey Pratt Page A

to everything known about water. She recognized titles from her school days, mysterious tales of murder and love, as well as sermons. Lillian chuckled as she ran her fingers over the complete works of Judge Fielding, bawdy tales with which she should properly have had no acquaintance.
    “Do you . ..” Lillian almost jumped, having forgotten, for the moment, that Addy was still in the room. The words had petered out at once, anyway, as soon as Lillian looked around.
    She turned her attention once more to the books. “Do I what, dear?” she asked.
    “Do you know any new stories?”
    “Stories?”
    “I’ve heard all of Great’s. Papa’s too. The servants don’t know any, ’cept for Becksnaff, but he only talks about the war. He was a soldier.”
    “Well, I know a few,” Lillian said. This was the longest conversation yet she’d had with the child, and it felt very queer, knowing if she turned, the fountain would dry up, so to speak. “I learned a few stories while I lived in India.”
    “India?” Disbelief filled the girl’s voice. “Don’t be silly.”
    “It’s very rude to call someone a liar, Addy. I lived in India for a long time. Did you know, this coat I have on came from there.”
    “You look silly in it.”
    “Be that as it may, the silk came from there. Probably the cinnamon in your cake came from there too.”
    “From your house?”
    “My house?” Lillian was so surprised she turned around. Addy had come to stand within three or four feet of her, the closest she’d come yet. Even in the lake, she’d been careful to stay at a distance.
    “My grandmamma and grandpapa live in Lympie Hall, and I live in the castle. The castle’s the biggest house in the whole world, bigger than your old India.” Lillian hadn’t known a six-year-old girl could sneer.
    Lillian knelt down on the carpet, the blue skirts of the banyan spreading out on the red carpet like a pool of clear water. “Addy, India isn’t my house. It’s a country, far away, filled with strange people and wonderful things. Like silk, spices, and... and tigers. I lived there. While I was there, I learned many stories I promise to tell you.” Though Addy still looked suspicious, Lillian knew she was interested. “What time do you go to bed?” she asked again.
    “Eight o’clock.”
    ‘Then, when it is your bedtime, I’ll come and tell you a story about India. If you like it, I’ll tell you another tomorrow.”
    “I won’t like it.”
    “That’s for you to decide.”
    The front door closed and Addy whirled away, running off in search of her father. As she stood, Lillian could hear the child chattering away about the things Miss Cole had just told her. Suddenly, Lillian realized she’d placed herself in another difficult position. How could she explain to Thorpe about India when the letter of recommendation had said nothing about it? Lying was so much more complex than telling the truth. She’d best invent something, and quickly!
    It wasn’t Thorpe who walked in, but Lady Genevieve. “Miss Cole, I realize you are new to our household, but what are you about leaving my great-granddaughter awake so late? It has gone past seven o’clock.”
    “I beg your pardon, Lady Genevieve. Addy, if you hurry, I shall tell you that story. Isn’t it a good thing you’ve already had your bath?” The little girl and Lillian exchanged a look. Lillian tried to put across in a single glance that she wasn’t going to tell Lady Genevieve Addy had lied about her bedtime, provided there were no more such “mistakes” that evening.
    Addy said, “Good night, Great,” and put up her arms to kiss Lady Genevieve’s cheek. For a moment, the two Everard females clung to each other. Then, the girl said, “Come along, Miss Cole,” in a tone not unlike her father’s, unconsciously imperious but without cruelty.
    “Don’t trouble Miss Cole tonight, Addy,” Lady Genevieve said. At the little girl’s frown, the older lady repeated, “Not