The Deception by Joan Wolf Page A

your cousin to stay with you at Lambourn Manor. It is not right for so young a girl to be alone all the time.”
    “We have been through this before, Mrs. Noakes,” I said as I blew on another spoonful of soup. “I would love to have my cousin to stay with me, but I will not trespass on Lord Greystone’s hospitality. Besides,” I gave the two old dears an affectionate look, “I am not alone. I have you.”
    They ignored the compliment. They did not consider themselves worthy companions for me, because they were servants. “His lordship would not mind you sending for your cousin,” Mr. Noakes said.
    “You don’t know that,” I countered.
    But Mr. Noakes was plowing remorselessly on. “Nor would his lordship mind if you took some of the household money to buy yourself a warm coat, my lady.”
    I shook my head adamantly. “I will not take his lordship’s money. I am living in his house and eating his food, and that is quite enough, I think.”
    Both old people stared at me, frustration written large upon their honest faces. In truth, if they regarded me as a child, I had rather come to regard them as my grandparents. “Don’t fret about me,” I told them. “I am very happy with the way things are.”
    “It’s not right,” Mrs. Noakes muttered. She turned and banged a pot down on the stove. “It wasn’t well done of his lordship to bring you here and then leave you as if you didn’t exist.”
    “I am quite sure he wishes that I did not exist,” I said candidly, “and I can’t blame him.”
    I had confided in them both the story of my marriage, and so they knew why Greystone had dumped me so unceremoniously on their doorstep. For some reason, however, they had constituted themselves my champions, although I kept pointing out that I was not the one who had been most wronged.
    They hadn’t taken my part at the beginning, of course. They thought Greystone walked on water, and when I told them the story of what my uncle had forced him to do, they were quite chilly to me. This lasted for about a month. I understood their feelings perfectly and did my best not to be a nuisance. It was when I got sick that they changed.
    I had walked into the village, just for something to do, and on the way home I began to feel unwell. It was a three-mile walk and by the time I got back to Lambourn my legs felt so wobbly that I was afraid I wasn’t going to make it.
    Mrs. Noakes had met me at the door. “My lady! Where were you? We have been looking for you all over the estate!”
    “I walked to the village,” I said. I remember that she looked very peculiar, as if I were seeing her through a fog.
    She was appalled. “Walked! Why did you walk? If you wanted to go to the village, Willie would have driven you.”
    “I didn’t want to be a bother,” I said, and fainted at her feet.
    Well, she sent for the doctor, and then she sat up with me all night long, periodically feeding me a horrible-tasting medicine. I was so confused that once or twice I actually thought she was my mother. By the time I was well again, we were friends.
    Her change of heart did not surprise me. I have often noticed how attached one can get to a creature one has nursed through an illness. I have felt it myself with horses I have taken care of when they were sick.
    I finished my soup and cut myself a slice of cheese. “What’s for dinner?” I asked Mrs. Noakes, sniffing appreciatively at the fragrance that was wafting from the biggest pot on the stove.
    “Lamb stew. One of your favorites, my lady.”
    “Yum.” I finished the cheese in my mouth and cut another slice. “You are a superlative cook, Mrs. Noakes.”
    “You are scarcely a judge, my lady,” the old woman said disapprovingly. “From what you tell me, you have spent your entire life eating nothing but wretched lodging-house food.”
    “It was not always wretched,” I replied.
    Mrs. Noakes clucked again. Nothing I said could convince her that the life I had led with my father was