critically in the long pier glass. The
image reflected back was a spritely young woman with flowing honey brown hair.
She had always expected to be much taller when she reached the age of eighteen.
She supposed that she might as well give over wishing for any more inches.
With the gown smoothed into place, Chloe saw that Lucy had
managed quite well with the hem. There really had been no need to let it down
by much. However, the bodice was still uncomfortably snug.
Chloe stood sidewise, ruefully surveying the outline of her
curves. "And to think I could not wait until I had acquired a bosom,"
she murmured. "It has turned out to be a great nuisance."
"It wouldn't be if your gowns fit you properly,"
Lucy grumbled. "You might spend some of your allowance to have more
fashionable ones made."
Lucy certainly had done so. She was smartly attired in a
high-waisted yellow gown, set off by a spencer of apple green taffeta. With her
golden blond beauty and willowy figure, the effect was quite charming.
Each of them was now possessed of a generous quarterly
allowance, owing to the pension and death benefits Papa had received from the
government. Chloe would sooner have been a pauper condemned to a workhouse if
only that would have meant the return of her father.
Lucy continued to regard Chloe's old gown with an expression
of distaste. "You might at least have ordered yourself one new frock for
Captain Trent's visit, Chloe. I cannot imagine what you have been wasting all
your money upon."
"I can," Agnes chimed in, without looking up from
her book. She still possessed the remarkable ability to read and follow a
conversation at the same time. "Chloe opens her purse to every beggar who
walks down the lane, to say nothing of slipping money to old Mr. Kirk to do
some carpentry work on the west wing of the house."
Chloe scowled at Agnes, tempted, not for the first time, to
take one of Agnes's heavy tomes and thunk her over the head with it. Chloe
waxed sheepish as Lucy fixed scolding eyes upon her.
"Oh, Chloe, you know full well Windhaven belongs to
Captain Trent now, even if he has been good enough to let us stay on here. He
has hired his own bailiff to look after things, and you shouldn't
interfere."
"Mr. Martin?" Chloe pronounced the spindly
bailiff's name with loathing. "He's a clutch-fisted old fool. All he will
ever do is thrust his pointed nose in the air and declare that he has no
authority to waste the captain's money on needless repairs. Meanwhile,
Windhaven is going to rack and ruin."
"Windhaven always was a ruin," Agnes said with
gloomy satisfaction.
"Then the captain needs must do something to save
it."
"No, he doesn't," Agnes replied. "He may not
choose to fling his fortune away on Windhaven. Parts of the house are already
quite hopeless."
Chloe opened her mouth to hotly refute her sister's comment,
but Mr. Kirk had said pretty much the same thing when Chloe had gone
through the old west wing with him.
"See those doors, Miss Chloe? They don't hang right,
and those stairs are starting to list. Like as not, the foundation has gone
bad. Perhaps the house was not built proper to begin with."
"It has managed to remain standing for two hundred
years, Mr. Kirk," Chloe had informed him proudly.
"Well, I daresay it will never hold up for another two
hundred. I wouldn't even give it twenty. By far the cheapest course would be to
knock it all down and start over again."
Knock down Windhaven? The old carpenter's suggestion had appalled
Chloe. What! Sweep away over two centuries of grace and charm and history? She
would never permit it except... Chloe constantly had to stop and keep reminding
herself that Windhaven was no longer in truth her home. It belonged to this
captain now. But surely he must realize the value of the estate.
"Why else would Captain Trent be coming here?"
Chloe insisted. "Except to see about restoring Windhaven."
Lucy gave an impatient sniff. "To arrange something
about our futures, I hope, instead of
image reflected back was a spritely young woman with flowing honey brown hair.
She had always expected to be much taller when she reached the age of eighteen.
She supposed that she might as well give over wishing for any more inches.
With the gown smoothed into place, Chloe saw that Lucy had
managed quite well with the hem. There really had been no need to let it down
by much. However, the bodice was still uncomfortably snug.
Chloe stood sidewise, ruefully surveying the outline of her
curves. "And to think I could not wait until I had acquired a bosom,"
she murmured. "It has turned out to be a great nuisance."
"It wouldn't be if your gowns fit you properly,"
Lucy grumbled. "You might spend some of your allowance to have more
fashionable ones made."
Lucy certainly had done so. She was smartly attired in a
high-waisted yellow gown, set off by a spencer of apple green taffeta. With her
golden blond beauty and willowy figure, the effect was quite charming.
Each of them was now possessed of a generous quarterly
allowance, owing to the pension and death benefits Papa had received from the
government. Chloe would sooner have been a pauper condemned to a workhouse if
only that would have meant the return of her father.
Lucy continued to regard Chloe's old gown with an expression
of distaste. "You might at least have ordered yourself one new frock for
Captain Trent's visit, Chloe. I cannot imagine what you have been wasting all
your money upon."
"I can," Agnes chimed in, without looking up from
her book. She still possessed the remarkable ability to read and follow a
conversation at the same time. "Chloe opens her purse to every beggar who
walks down the lane, to say nothing of slipping money to old Mr. Kirk to do
some carpentry work on the west wing of the house."
Chloe scowled at Agnes, tempted, not for the first time, to
take one of Agnes's heavy tomes and thunk her over the head with it. Chloe
waxed sheepish as Lucy fixed scolding eyes upon her.
"Oh, Chloe, you know full well Windhaven belongs to
Captain Trent now, even if he has been good enough to let us stay on here. He
has hired his own bailiff to look after things, and you shouldn't
interfere."
"Mr. Martin?" Chloe pronounced the spindly
bailiff's name with loathing. "He's a clutch-fisted old fool. All he will
ever do is thrust his pointed nose in the air and declare that he has no
authority to waste the captain's money on needless repairs. Meanwhile,
Windhaven is going to rack and ruin."
"Windhaven always was a ruin," Agnes said with
gloomy satisfaction.
"Then the captain needs must do something to save
it."
"No, he doesn't," Agnes replied. "He may not
choose to fling his fortune away on Windhaven. Parts of the house are already
quite hopeless."
Chloe opened her mouth to hotly refute her sister's comment,
but Mr. Kirk had said pretty much the same thing when Chloe had gone
through the old west wing with him.
"See those doors, Miss Chloe? They don't hang right,
and those stairs are starting to list. Like as not, the foundation has gone
bad. Perhaps the house was not built proper to begin with."
"It has managed to remain standing for two hundred
years, Mr. Kirk," Chloe had informed him proudly.
"Well, I daresay it will never hold up for another two
hundred. I wouldn't even give it twenty. By far the cheapest course would be to
knock it all down and start over again."
Knock down Windhaven? The old carpenter's suggestion had appalled
Chloe. What! Sweep away over two centuries of grace and charm and history? She
would never permit it except... Chloe constantly had to stop and keep reminding
herself that Windhaven was no longer in truth her home. It belonged to this
captain now. But surely he must realize the value of the estate.
"Why else would Captain Trent be coming here?"
Chloe insisted. "Except to see about restoring Windhaven."
Lucy gave an impatient sniff. "To arrange something
about our futures, I hope, instead of
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