The Ashford Affair by Lauren Willig Page B

anything about him, other than that he was Father’s brother and they hadn’t seen each other since Father had married Mother. “She’ll come to us and that’s an end to it.”
    Addie could hear the click of shoes against the tile of a hallway, the swish of a skirt navigating the narrow corridor between closet and hall table. “I don’t like the idea of her in the nursery with our girls. When you think of her parents—”
    “My brother,” Uncle Charles interjected.
    “Half brother. And that woman . Do you really think I’d have that woman’s child—”
    “Child, Vera,” said Uncle Charles tiredly. “That child. She’s only—what was it? Six? Seven? Young enough to be taught. I have no doubt,” he added dryly, “that if anyone can do it, it will be you.”
    “Addie? Addie?” It was Fernie calling. “Are you hiding?” Addie heard her quick steps come to an abrupt halt. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Have you been waiting long?”
    “There was no one to answer the bell.” It was the woman’s voice, heavy with disapproval.
    “I let the servants go. Since—” Fernie’s voice caught. She went on determinedly. “You must be Lord and Lady Ashford? Thank you so much for coming for Addie. She’s—well, she’s as you can imagine. It’s been very hard for her. For all of us. It was all so sudden, so unexpected—” Her voice broke.
    “Do you have the child ready?” said the woman, breaking off further confidences. “We have the car waiting.”
    “Yes, everything is ready,” said Fernie distractedly. “But Addie— She likes to hide in the closet when she’s upset. It’s her private place.”
    The door opened, letting in a pale triangle of light. Addie made herself as small as she could, scrunched up against the back wall of the closet.
    “Addie,” Fernie said, and there was a pleading note in her voice. “Addie, come and meet your uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Ashford. Please, darling, do come out.”
    Reluctantly, Addie unfolded herself from her snug corner, wiggling out between old boots and discarded umbrellas. Her hair had come out of its ribbon and there were dark smudges on her face where she had wiped at her cheeks with dirty hands.
    The first person she saw was the aunt, Lady Ashford, who stared at her as though she were a bug caught crawling out of the wainscoting. She wasn’t precisely tall, but she seemed to take up a great deal of space. Her hat went up at the sides and down in the middle. There was a feather sprouting from one side, too impossibly purple to have come from any bird Addie could imagine. Lady Ashford wore a fur stole around her shoulders, over a traveling costume of purple and black. Her collar was high and pointy and went up right under her chin, which might be, Addie thought, why she held it quite so high.
    Next to her, Uncle Charles seemed faded in comparison, as if he were a watercolor that had been caught in the rain. Addie’s father’s hair had been blond, too, but Uncle Charles’ was several shades lighter, pale blond blending to silver, his eyes a pale blue that looked as though the color had been bleached out of them. Everything about him was tall and thin, from his long, narrow nose to the long, thin hand on his wife’s arm.
    They were both staring at her. Addie scrunched her shoulders, wishing she had stayed in her closet. They weren’t at all like her parents’ friends, who bribed her into good humor with gifts of sweets or stood her on a chair and made her recite Fernie’s poetry for them, applauding vigorously as she did.
    “Say hello to your aunt and uncle, Addie,” Fernie said nervously.
    “Young ladies,” said Lady Ashford, “do not lurk in cupboards.”
    Addie tucked her chin in. “Then I won’t be a young lady,” she said defiantly. “I’d much rather be a hedgehog.”
    It was the sort of remark that made Fernie shake her head and kiss Addie on the cheek and her parents’ friends laugh.
    The aunt and uncle weren’t amused. Lady