“Shall we go inside?” Laura asked, looking toward the door of the haberdashery.
Rebecca thought about it a moment, then shook her head. “Not unless there’s something you wish to purchase,” she said. If Daniel was going to sell his prized phaeton so they could make ends meet, then she was certainly not about to spend her money on buying silly ribbons.
The door to the shop opened and a young girl no more than ten years of age stepped out. “Oh,” she said, spotting Rebecca, “you’re very pretty.”
A lady dressed in an elegant green walking gown appeared next. “Gabrielle! What have I told you about being too forward?”
Gabrielle looked up at the woman and said, “I’m sorry, Mama.”
“Please forgive my daughter,” the lady in green said. “She’s a very outspoken child.”
“That’s quite all right,” Rebecca said with a chuckle, “especially since she was so complimentary.” Bowing down, she looked Gabrielle in the eye as she said, “I think you’re very pretty as well.”
Gabrielle blushed and Rebecca straightened herself, pleased to have brought a bit of happiness to the girl’s day. “Allow me to introduce myself,” said the lady in green. “I am Lady Oakley—the Countess of Oakley, to be exact.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Rebecca said, pleased with the prospect of making a new friend. “I’m Lady Rebecca Neville.”
Lady Oakley’s eyes narrowed marginally, and then she frowned for a second before the realization of who Rebecca was became apparent in her every feature. She grabbed Gabrielle by the hand and pulled her closer. “I wish you would have said so immediately,” she said. Then, lowering her voice to a near whisper, she added, “A woman such as yourself ought to make their identity known right away so that others may choose whether or not they wish to be seen in your company. Good day.” Looking around, she stepped out into the street, pulling her daughter along by the hand as she hurried to the other side and walked away at a brisk pace.
“Is it just me, or does she look as if she’s fleeing the hounds of hell?” Rebecca asked Laura in an attempt to make light of what had just happened, though the truth was that it irked her.
“I’m sorry, my lady. Apparently there are those who are not yet ready to accept you.”
“So it would seem,” Rebecca muttered, wondering if a day would ever come when the ton would realize that the true villains in all of this were not herself or Daniel but the Griftons and Grover. Determined not to allow Lady Oakley’s dismissal of her to ruin her day, Rebecca forced a smile and said, “Let’s go home so we can sample some of those scones Madame Renarde was baking when we left.”
The two continued past the British Museum before returning home along Keppel Street. “Has my husband returned yet?” Rebecca asked Hawkins, who was there to greet them in the foyer.
“No, my lady,” he replied as he took her bonnet and gloves so she could remove her spencer.
“Well, do let me know when he arrives,” she said, a little disappointed that he was still absent, though in all fairness, he’d only been gone for two hours. Who knew how long it would take to place an advertisement in the paper? There might be a queue. She turned to Laura. “Now, about those scones . . .”
“Why don’t you go and take a rest while I see if they’re ready. You’re not used to walking. I’m sure you must be tired.”
Rebecca had to admit that she was a little. Her feet ached and she was sure she felt a blister coming on, but she also craved company. Going upstairs alone wasn’t something she cared to do; she’d spent enough time on her own to last her a lifetime. What she wanted now was to surround herself with conversation and laughter. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to come along,” she said.
“He’s been gone for quite some time,” Rebecca commented an hour later when there was still no sign of Daniel.
“He probably had another errand to run,” Laura said. “Gentlemen often do. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
“You’re probably right,” Rebecca said, determined not to worry. Daniel was used to London, after all, and as Laura had suggested, he’d probably decided to stop somewhere else on the way, since he was already out. Deciding that had to be it, yet reluctant to dine alone, Rebecca asked her staff if they would mind her joining them.
“Of course not,” Laura said, breaking what could only be described as a moment of awkward silence. It was bad enough that the master and mistress of the house were helping with the chores, but to socialize to such an extent where they shared their meals with each other just wasn’t done. Rebecca knew this of course and was grateful to Laura for saving her from having to sit by herself in the dining room.
The soup was eaten in complete silence, however, until Rebecca decided to take it upon herself to start a conversation. “Tell me, Madame Renarde,” she began. “You’ve worked here a long time. What was it like when my husband’s parents were living here?”
A couple of spoons clattered against the dishes, and Madame Renarde coughed quite indelicately. Reaching for her glass, she took a sip of water before saying, “If you’ll please forgive me, I’m sure it’s not my place to discuss such things.”
“No, you’re probably right,” Rebecca said, “but I just . . . well, I imagine it must have been a very lively home at one time. It’s perfect for hosting dinner parties and such. Whereas now . . . well, it is rather empty since we’ve yet to hire more staff. I suppose I was just trying to catch a glimpse of what it might be like when it’s filled with people.”
“Noisy,” Hawkins muttered as he spooned more soup into his mouth.
“And busy, I would imagine,” Molly said. “Wolvington House is like a beehive, with everyone coming and going as often as they do. It’s impossible to enter a room there without finding a maid dusting or a footman polishing silver. It’s quite a relief to have a bit of peace and quiet here even though it means a few more chores.”
“I agree with you there,” Madame Renarde said. She hesitated before setting down her spoon and dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “There has never been quite as large a staff here as there is at Wolvington House. Mind you, this house is also much smaller, so there’s no need for it, but I will say this—we were all very well cared for by Lord and Lady Richard Avern, and we were happy with our situation until . . . well, I never heard anyone voice a complaint.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Rebecca said. They resumed eating until the soup was done and the pie, ham and cheese had been brought out. Rebecca accepted a slice of freshly baked bread from Molly, who’d just been to fetch it from the oven. “I think I’ll take a look around the third floor later,” Rebecca eventually added for the sole purpose of saying something. “I haven’t been up there yet.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Madame Renarde muttered. “Or rather, I believe you ought to discuss your intention to do so with your husband first.”
This surprised Rebecca. Whatever did the cook mean? “But it’s my home too, madame. I don’t see why Mr. Neville would take issue with me looking around a bit.” She paused, considering how reluctant Daniel had been to venture further upstairs, as well as the look of relief that had washed over him when Hawkins had cut his tour of the home short right after their arrival. “Unless of course you know something that I do not.”
Madame Renarde stiffened, Molly started picking at her bread, Hawkins looked just about ready to flee the room and Laura was being of no use whatsoever; she sat mutely at Rebecca’s side as if she wished to ignore the conversation entirely. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Rebecca said, looking to each of them in turn. “Clearly you are all aware of why my husband would rather avoid the third floor of this house, and I would be much obliged if I am not the only one kept in the dark.”
“It is where the nursery is,” Madame Renarde said, as if this explained everything.
“And?” Rebecca pressed, determined to get all the information out of the stubborn woman.
“And it is where Mr. Neville found the parting note from his mother the day she left.”
“Oh.”
“Exactement.”
Rebecca considered the implication. She’d known about the note from Daniel, of course, but she hadn’t considered where he might have been when he’d found it. The thought that they were living in a place that held such painful memories for him was difficult for her to bear. He probably saw ghosts everywhere. “I know what it is to lose one’s parents,” she said with a knowing look to Laura, the only person present who truly understood what it had been like to watch her home go up in a blaze, knowing her parents were still inside. Rebecca had never returned there after the fire, and although this had not been by choice, she was aware that she wouldn’t have gone back there regardless. Seeing the estate again would be far too painful an experience and one she’d rather avoid. She could not imagine how awful it had to be for Daniel to have to live in a place that represented so much loss for him. “But at least my childhood was a happy one.”
The edge of Madame Renarde’s mouth tilted upward. “Oh, I assure you that your husband’s was too. His parents loved each other dearly, and they loved him even more.” Rebecca opened her mouth to speak, but the cook pressed on, shaking her head and saying, “Non, it was not his childhood that was unhappy, for I have rarely seen a child so cherished by his mama and papa.”
“But then, as if from one day to the next, his mother decided that she loved someone else more,” Rebecca muttered. The devastation had to have been intense, followed swiftly by his father’s departure and death. The love and devotion that his parents had showered him with from the day he’d been born had been snatched away in an instant, and as she sat there staring at the food on her plate, she felt her eyes prick with the onset of tears for the boy who’d so undeservingly been spurned by those closest to him. She suddenly had an urgent need to see him and talk to him, to tell him how she felt about him. It no longer mattered if he didn’t feel capable of returning her love; she knew she could not deny him hers any longer. “If you will please excuse me,” she said, pushing herself away from the table, “I think I will go and wait for him upstairs. I expect he’ll return at any moment.” She turned toward Madame Renarde. “The meal was lovely. Thank you.”
The hours ticked by and there was still no sign of Daniel. Rebecca, who’d seated herself in the parlor with her watercolors, kept going to the window at ten-minute intervals, hoping she’d find him strolling toward the front door with that cheerful smile of his, but there was no sign of him at all. It started to grow dark, and Molly and Laura arrived to light the oil lamps and to put more wood on the fire.