The Secret Heart, page 4
Lily blinked to stop herself from staring in bewildered fascination and dropped a curtsey.
“Lily, this is my sister, Lady Masterton. Your—er… Cousin Millicent,” Torbridge said.
“Cousin?” Lady Masterton exclaimed, peering at Lily in astonishment. “Oh, dear me, no. Wouldn’t it have been just like Grandpapa to do nothing for the family? But I don’t think she needs to stay here, Dolph.”
“On the contrary,” Torbridge interrupted. “She does need to stay here. For although our late and lamented grandparent was at fault in many ways, he is not actually responsible for Lily. Sit down, Millie, and I’ll tell you how it is.”
Millie sat down obediently, her wide eyes fixed on her brother with more curiosity than astonishment. After an instant, she blinked and looked up at Lily, who stood rigidly where she had curtseyed to her hostess.
To Lily’s surprise, the lady’s eyes softened. “Come and sit with me, child. We can support each other through whatever mad start Torbridge is involving us in.”
Hesitantly, but with some relief, Lily walked forward and sat on the sofa beside the grand lady. In her eyes was the same basic kindness she had always seen in Lord Torbridge.
“To my knowledge, Lily is not remotely related to us,” he said apologetically, “but society needs to believe that she is. Therefore, she is Miss Lily Darrow.”
“Cousin Paul’s daughter? Didn’t he die last year?”
“Fortuitously, God rest his soul. He left behind a large family if you recall, and poor Lily was not well-provided for. She came to England, but obviously, our parents are not really receiving visitors at this time, and so, I have brought her to you.”
“Not sure you should use Papa’s illness as quite such a convenience,” Lady Masterton objected.
“We must make use of reality,” he said vaguely.
“Must we? But why is it so important Lily is here with me? Are you hiding, my dear?”
“Oh, no,” Lily replied. “I am to help his lordship. And your ladyship if you will let me.”
“Cousin Lily,” Torbridge said smoothly, “is very good with numbers and accounts, and is, generally, a very organized person. The world knows that you are not, so no one will think it odd that you take Cousin Lily as your companion.”
“They will in that dress,” Lady Masterton said bluntly.
Lily flushed.
“A dress allowance is available,” Torbridge said carelessly.
His sister beamed. “Oh, well, that’s different! We shall go to the dressmaker’s first thing tomorrow.” She looked Lily over critically. “You are very pretty, and your figure is excellent, so it will be a pleasure to dress you. How old are you, Cousin?”
“One-and-twenty.”
“Really? You look younger. But in the circumstances, it is probably a good thing that you are not.”
Torbridge stood up. “It would probably be best if you spend the first couple of days quietly to show Lily how things are done in society. You must keep her right about matters of accent and language, as well as dinner etiquette and so on. She has naturally good manners, and she learns quickly, so I don’t foresee much difficulty. Just remember the story, Millie, or we are undone.”
“I’m not an idiot, you know,” Lady Masterton said, glaring at her brother, who was already walking toward the door.
Lily jumped to her feet in alarm and all but ran after him. “Are you leaving?”
He turned back with a faint smile. “Yes, but you needn’t worry. Millie will look after you, and I will look in tomorrow.” He took her hand and squeezed it gently. “I wouldn’t leave you here if I didn’t think you would be comfortable.”
She knew a craven urge to cling to him for support, for he was her last link with the only life she knew. But his eyes were steady as he gazed down at her, as though he really did believe in her. In any case, she refused to show fear. It would be rude and offend her pride to boot.
She nodded and drew her hand free. “Of course.”
His eyes lit with appreciation, a reward in itself. “That’s my girl,” he murmured and sauntered away with a mere casual wave in his sister’s direction.
Chapter Four
Lily had no time to miss him.
As soon as the door closed behind him, her hostess jumped to her feet. “Come, you shall have the chamber next to mine, and we shall see what you need.”
“But, my lady, you were just going out,” Lily reminded her.
“So I was,” Lady Masterton said, as though just recalling the fact. “It doesn’t matter. I shall just be late, and no one will be surprised.”
Lily had never seen such luxury as was to be hers. The best bedchamber at the Hart, of which they were so proud, was bare, rough, and rustic by comparison. This was a much more feminine room with a huge bed surrounded by light, embroidered curtains. A soft carpet covered a good deal of the floor, and the porcelain of the washing bowl and jug seemed finer than her mother’s best teacups. There were two looking glasses, a beautifully upholstered chair that matched the bed hangings, and heavy velvet curtains at the windows.
Lily tried to swallow her awe, and on Lady Masterton’s instructions, opened her valise to show her meager possessions.
“The night rail will do for now, since no one is likely to see it,” Lady Masterton said, tossing the garment on the bed. “I will lend you one of my dressing gowns. Have you no stays? Never mind, we shall get some. And some less sturdy chemises. I suppose we might share things like gloves if our hands are a similar…” She broke off with a squeak of horror as she seized Lily’s hand for comparison with her own. “Oh, my dear, what has happened to your hands?”
“Nothing,” Lily said awkwardly. “They are just a bit roughened and dry. From work.”
“Work,” her ladyship repeated as if she couldn’t quite grasp the concept. “What sort of work?”
“Washing, cooking, scrubbing and sweeping, fetching and carrying, and feeding the hens and the pigs in the cold.”
Lady Masterton sat down on the bed. “You had better tell me who you are. Have you…assisted my brother for very long?”
“Oh, no, not like this. He came several times to the inn.”
“What inn?” her ladyship asked, bewildered.
“The Hart, in Sussex. My father is the innkeeper.”
Lady Masterton swallowed visibly. “You speak very well for an innkeeper’s daughter,” she managed.
“I don’t really,” Lily said, lapsing into her own accent. “I just mimic our gentle guests. And I learned well at school. His lordship thought I could carry this off, but I’m not sure I can.” She ended on a rather small, depressed note, which she hastily countered with a bright smile.
At once, Lady Masterton patted her hand. “I am quite sure you can,” she said firmly. “Not least because Torbridge has a truly annoying habit of being right. I shan’t think of you mimicking me! But we shall do better, I think, to start calling each other Cousin. I’m quite scatterbrained, myself, but I get used to things. You had better call me Cousin Millicent, or Millie, rather than your ladyship, which would be all wrong in the circumstances. As for your hands… Pull the bell beside you, Cousin, and we’ll soak them. You will have to wear gloves in bed, too.”
“Cousin Millicent” peered into her face, then touched her cheek. “Your skin is good,” she said with satisfaction. “It is soft and creamy and not weathered at all.”
For the first time, Lily was grateful for the lack of sun.
A breathless maid entered the room after the briefest knock.
“Bring me some warm water, a bowl of oatmeal, and a jug of cream,” Lady Masterton instructed. “And send Prince to me.”
Prince turned out to be her ladyship’s stern-faced dresser—a very superior kind of lady’s maid—who was far too dignified to show either surprise or distaste when commanded to mix the cream and oatmeal and smear it over Lily’s hands.
“Such rough hands will not do in England,” Lady Masterton said as though implying that in Ireland they might have passed muster. “An old pair of soft gloves, too, Prince. We’ll leave the bowl here, Lily, and you can apply some fresh mixture before retiring. I wonder if I can be bothered going out now?”
“Oh, indeed, I think you should, ma’am,” Lily said, distressed to think she was interfering with her hostess’s pleasure. “I shall be fine here. In fact, I’ll probably retire early, for I’m not used to traveling.”
“Of course, you must do just as you like. And I shall spread the word that my delightful cousin from Ireland has come to stay!”
*
Lily, used to waking early and cleaning before serving breakfast, lay in bed for several minutes, listening to the noise in the streets, and the contrasting quiet inside the house. Worse, she was wearing gloves in bed, remarkably soft kid gloves, inside which her hands felt hot and moist and sticky.
She sat up, and since it was still dark, lit the lamp by her bed before peeling off the gloves. She wrinkled her nose, for they didn’t smell good. She rose and went to the washing bowl and soaked her hands. They emerged from the water, looking remarkably less dried and cracked. They even felt softer.
Now, what was she supposed to do? Go and find Lady Masterton? Cousin Millicent! Perhaps, but she knew her hostess did want her to be seen about the house in her usual dress.
A maid crept into the room with a coal scuttle. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss! I didn’t expect you to be up. I’m just here to light the fire. You should go back to bed till it’s warmer.”
To Lily, used to rising first in winter, it was barely cold at all. “Perhaps I will. Only…her ladyship mentioned an early outing.”
The maid grinned. “Early means eleven o’clock to her ladyship. She won’t be up much before that. It’s only just after seven.”
“Thank you,” Lily said to the cheerful maid as she left.
With nothing much else to do, Lily smeared the last of the oatmeal and cream on her hands, returned them to the smelly gloves, and climbed back into bed. She meant to think rather than sleep, but the novelty of rest took her by surprise, and she nodded off.
It was a different maid bearing a cup of hot chocolate who woke her a couple of hours later. “Good morning, Miss. Her ladyship asks that I look after you while you’re with us. I’m Emily, the chambermaid, but I help Miss Prince on occasions, and it’s my dearest wish to be a lady’s maid one day.”
“Then I hope you will be,” Lily said warmly, remembering to keep her Lady Lily accent. “Thank you.”
“Ring when you’re ready to dress,” Emily said and departed again.
While she was still drinking the luxurious hot chocolate and wondering what was happening at the Hart, a scratching sound came from the other side of the door.
“Come in,” Lily said doubtfully, expecting Emily once more.
However, it was “Cousin Millicent” in a very elaborate dressing gown who breezed into the room, bearing several garments. “Good morning, Cousin Lily! I trust you slept well?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Oh, good! Look, I have brought these for you to wear this morning. The gown won’t fit you, of course, for you are smaller than I, but this pelisse is very loose by design and provided it doesn’t scrape the floor, should hide everything beneath. And don’t you just love this little hat? I decided it was too young for me and never wore it, though I never quite liked to return it.”
In a barrage of information, questions, and random tangents, Cousin Millicent drew her out of bed and began throwing garments at her. Halfway through, Emily arrived to help and brushed out Lily’s hair before exchanging speaking looks with Lady Masterton.
“Hair-cut,” they both said at once.
In the meantime, Emily pinned it into a rather appealing but simple new style piled more to the top of her head, and the new hat was tried and approved.
Lily gazed at herself in the glass, astonished. She really did look like a lady. If one didn’t see the pins and the sash, holding the gown up and in under her breasts. It was, apparently, good enough for her to be seen in the breakfast parlor, where it was possible Sir George Masterton would be discovered.
However, they had the breakfast table to themselves. Lily, used to her mother’s substantial breakfasts and a lot of hard work, was glad to be able to help herself and piled her plate high with choice morsels of smoked fish, eggs, and toast. Her “cousin” nibbled at some bread. They drank coffee while the carriage was summoned, and from then on, Lily really did enter a different world.
She had never seen such subservience and eagerness to please as they were met with at Lady Masterton’s dressmaker’s establishment. A bewildering array of beautiful gowns in soft, delicate fabrics was shown to her. To Lily, they were all gorgeous, and it was left to her “cousin” to choose which she should try on. In a daze, she saw herself decked out in smart walking dresses, morning gowns, evening gowns, and even ball gowns.
Only when she heard Lady Masterton enumerate the gowns she wanted, including an evening dress and a morning gown delivered by six o’clock that day, did she come to her senses.
“But this is too much!” she exclaimed, then hissed in Millicent’s ear. “I’m sure his lordship does not mean me to have all this. I cannot possibly—”
“Oh, he does, trust me. This is a modest wardrobe. And I would really prefer you to have the lavender evening gown today, for I thought we could have a quiet dinner at home. George will be there, and I would like you to meet him.”
This was not a treat Lily looked forward to, but the prospect was still too far away to trouble her hugely. In the meantime, she was fitted with two pelisses and an opera cloak. A pair of dancing slippers, indoor slippers, and outdoor shoes were ordered from a different shop, and two new hats from a very handsome milliner.
“Oh dear, I will have ruined his lordship,” Lily said anxiously as they sat in the carriage to go home, surrounded by packages.
“Oh, no,” Millicent assured her. “About the only thing my father ever did for Torbridge was give him a staggering allowance.”
After absorbing this information, Lily was struck by the contrasting events of Millicent’s father lying in his death bed, while Millicent gadded about town buying clothes for a whirlwind of upcoming gaiety.
“I am so sorry about your father. I had selfishly forgotten. You must long to be with him.”
“God, no,” Millicent said with a visible shudder. “The wretched house is gloomy enough without sickness. And I don’t suppose dying has sweetened the old gentleman’s temper.”
Lily’s mouth dropped open.
Seeing it, Millicent gave a crooked little smile. “Have I shocked you? We are not close to our parents. They belonged to a generation that thought it vulgar to have more to do with their children than inspect them for fifteen minutes each evening if they happened to be in the same house. They spent most of their time in London, while we were brought up at Hayleigh. Our paths rarely crossed, and when they did, he was angry.”
“What about?” Lily asked.
“Being in the country and surrounded by his children, probably. He didn’t think a great deal of us,”
“Us?”
“His children. Dolph, Ella, Gilbert, and me.”
“Is his name really Dolph?” Lily asked, distracted.
Millicent laughed. “Randolph. Ella called him Dolph when she was a baby, and it stuck.”
“Are your other siblings in London, too?” Lily asked, accepting that they were probably not with their dying parent.
“No, not just now. Gilbert is in Spain with the army, and Ella is in the country producing offspring for her lord. Mind you, she is threatening to come up for the Season, so you may meet her. Torbridge didn’t tell you any of this, did he?”
“I didn’t know anything about his family at all until yesterday. He does not speak of personal things.”
“Maybe not, but if you are our cousin, you should at least know how many of us there are!”
“I think he relied on you,” Lily said.
Millicent stared at her. “Don’t be silly. No one relies on me.”
“Lord—Cousin Torbridge does. Or he wouldn’t have brought me to you.”
Millicent appeared to think about that for a moment. “Actually, I’ve no idea anymore why Torbridge does anything.”
“You mean he has changed?” Lily asked. Part of her felt guilty for even asking, but the desire to know more about him overwhelmed everything else.
Millicent nodded. “Since he returned from university, or at least his travels immediately afterward.”
“In what way?”
Millicent shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. When we were children, he was thoughtful, sensible, as well as fun. He looked after the rest of us. More of a father, to be truthful, than our father. Or at least, that’s how I remember it before he went away that autumn. And then, when he came home, grown-up, he was more like me.”
Lily blinked. “Like you?”
“On, caring for nothing but clothes and appearance and trivial things. Like propriety.”
Lily frowned. “But he is not really like that.” And neither are you.
“I suppose he is still fun,” Millicent allowed. “And does odd things without anyone noticing. Like bringing you.” For a moment, the vague eyes weren’t vague at all, and then she smiled amiably and glanced out of the window. “I wonder why it’s taking so long?”
Eventually, the carriage pulled up outside the Mastertons’ house in Brook Street. A footman swarmed down the front steps to take the bandboxes and parcels, while Millicent sailed into the house with Lily at her heels.
Lily hoped to find that Lord Torbridge awaited them inside, but it seemed his lordship had not yet called. She and her hostess ate a light luncheon in a rather magnificent dining room. The presence of servants limited their communication to small talk, which at least helped Lily to note a few acceptable topics for future polite conversation.
Only when the servants left, did Lily ask curiously, “Do you have children, Cousin Millicent?”
