asked, bristling.
The maid nodded, coloring.
“Well, I do need one,” Victoria conceded reluctantly. She ate the toast and finished the chocolate, then wandered into the adjoining room where the maid was pouring perfumed bath salts into the steaming water. Slowly removing her travel-stained gown, Victoria thought of the short note Charles Fielding had sent her, inviting her to come to England. He had seemed so anxious to have her here.
“Come at once, my dear,”
he had written.
“You are more than welcome here
—
you are eagerly awaited.”
Perhaps she wasn’t to be sent away after all. Perhaps “his lordship” had mistaken the matter.
The maid helped her wash her hair, then held up a fluffy cloth for Victoria and helped her out of the tub. “I’ve put away your clothes, mum, and turned down the bed, in case you’d like a nap.”
Victoria smiled at her and asked her name.
“My name?” the maid repeated, as if stunned that Victoria should care to ask. “Why, it’s—it’s Ruth.”
“Thank you very much, Ruth,” Victoria said, “for putting away my clothes, I mean.”
A deep flush of pleasure colored the maid’s freckled face as she bobbed a quick curtsy and started for the door. “Supper is at eight,” Ruth informed her. “His lordship rarely keeps country hours at Wakefield.”
“Ruth,” Victoria said awkwardly as the maid started to leave, “are there two ... ah ... ‘lordships’ here? That is, I was wondering about Charles Fielding—”
“Oh, you’re referrin‘ to his grace!” Ruth glanced over her shoulder as if she was fearful of being overheard before she confided, “He hasn’t arrived yet, but we’re expectin’ him sometime tonight. I heard his lordship tell Northrup to send word to his grace that you’ve arrived.”
“What is his—ah—grace like?” Victoria asked, feeling foolish using these odd titles.
Ruth looked as if she was about to describe him; then she changed her mind. “I’m sorry, miss, but his lordship doesn’t permit his servants to gossip. Nor are we allowed to be familiar-like with guests.” She curtsied and scurried out in a rustle of starched black skirts.
Victoria was startled by the knowledge that two human beings were not permitted to converse together in this house, simply because one was a servant and the other a guest, but considering her brief acquaintance with “his lordship,” she could fully imagine him issuing such an inhuman edict.
Victoria took her nightdress from the wardrobe, pulled it over her head, and climbed into bed, sliding between the sheets. Luxurious silk caressed the bare skin of her arms and face as she uttered a weary prayer that Charles Fielding would prove to be a warmer, kindlier man than his other lordship. Her long dark lashes fluttered down, lying like curly fans against her cheeks, and she fell asleep.
Chapter Five
Sunlight streamed in through the open windows and a breeze glided through the room, softly caressing Victoria’s face. Somewhere below, a horse’s hooves clattered on a paved drive, and two birds landed simultaneously on her windowsill, embarking on a noisy quarrel over territorial rights. Their irate chirping slowly penetrated Victoria’s slumber, stirring her from happy dreams of home.
Still half-asleep, she rolled over onto her stomach, burrowing her face into the pillow. Instead of the slightly rough fabric that covered her pillow at home and smelled of sunshine and soap, her cheek encountered smooth silk. Dimly aware that she was not in her own bed with her mother downstairs making breakfast, Victoria squeezed her eyes closed, trying to recapture her tranquil dreams, but it was already too late. Reluctantly, she turned her head and opened her eyes.
In the bright light of midmorning, she stared at the silver and blue draperies that surrounded her bed like a silken cocoon, and her mind abruptly cleared. She was at Wakefield Park. She had slept straight through the night.
Shoving her
The maid nodded, coloring.
“Well, I do need one,” Victoria conceded reluctantly. She ate the toast and finished the chocolate, then wandered into the adjoining room where the maid was pouring perfumed bath salts into the steaming water. Slowly removing her travel-stained gown, Victoria thought of the short note Charles Fielding had sent her, inviting her to come to England. He had seemed so anxious to have her here.
“Come at once, my dear,”
he had written.
“You are more than welcome here
—
you are eagerly awaited.”
Perhaps she wasn’t to be sent away after all. Perhaps “his lordship” had mistaken the matter.
The maid helped her wash her hair, then held up a fluffy cloth for Victoria and helped her out of the tub. “I’ve put away your clothes, mum, and turned down the bed, in case you’d like a nap.”
Victoria smiled at her and asked her name.
“My name?” the maid repeated, as if stunned that Victoria should care to ask. “Why, it’s—it’s Ruth.”
“Thank you very much, Ruth,” Victoria said, “for putting away my clothes, I mean.”
A deep flush of pleasure colored the maid’s freckled face as she bobbed a quick curtsy and started for the door. “Supper is at eight,” Ruth informed her. “His lordship rarely keeps country hours at Wakefield.”
“Ruth,” Victoria said awkwardly as the maid started to leave, “are there two ... ah ... ‘lordships’ here? That is, I was wondering about Charles Fielding—”
“Oh, you’re referrin‘ to his grace!” Ruth glanced over her shoulder as if she was fearful of being overheard before she confided, “He hasn’t arrived yet, but we’re expectin’ him sometime tonight. I heard his lordship tell Northrup to send word to his grace that you’ve arrived.”
“What is his—ah—grace like?” Victoria asked, feeling foolish using these odd titles.
Ruth looked as if she was about to describe him; then she changed her mind. “I’m sorry, miss, but his lordship doesn’t permit his servants to gossip. Nor are we allowed to be familiar-like with guests.” She curtsied and scurried out in a rustle of starched black skirts.
Victoria was startled by the knowledge that two human beings were not permitted to converse together in this house, simply because one was a servant and the other a guest, but considering her brief acquaintance with “his lordship,” she could fully imagine him issuing such an inhuman edict.
Victoria took her nightdress from the wardrobe, pulled it over her head, and climbed into bed, sliding between the sheets. Luxurious silk caressed the bare skin of her arms and face as she uttered a weary prayer that Charles Fielding would prove to be a warmer, kindlier man than his other lordship. Her long dark lashes fluttered down, lying like curly fans against her cheeks, and she fell asleep.
Chapter Five
Sunlight streamed in through the open windows and a breeze glided through the room, softly caressing Victoria’s face. Somewhere below, a horse’s hooves clattered on a paved drive, and two birds landed simultaneously on her windowsill, embarking on a noisy quarrel over territorial rights. Their irate chirping slowly penetrated Victoria’s slumber, stirring her from happy dreams of home.
Still half-asleep, she rolled over onto her stomach, burrowing her face into the pillow. Instead of the slightly rough fabric that covered her pillow at home and smelled of sunshine and soap, her cheek encountered smooth silk. Dimly aware that she was not in her own bed with her mother downstairs making breakfast, Victoria squeezed her eyes closed, trying to recapture her tranquil dreams, but it was already too late. Reluctantly, she turned her head and opened her eyes.
In the bright light of midmorning, she stared at the silver and blue draperies that surrounded her bed like a silken cocoon, and her mind abruptly cleared. She was at Wakefield Park. She had slept straight through the night.
Shoving her
Similar Books
