Freedom!
Whenever she or one of her girls had needed anything, she had had to apply to Gilbert for it. Not just any time she could catch his attention. There had been a set time for such applications, between nine and ten in the morning in his office. She had had to stand before his desk like a supplicant. The baby needed new nappies, she might have told him. No, the ones Rachel had worn would no longer do. They were threadbare and absorbed almost no moisture at all. They were fit only for the kitchen ragbag. Should she go up to the nursery and bring one down to show him? Very well, then— she would bring themalldown.
There were many such memories. Gilbert had been a careful man with money. He had had a moral revulsion against waste. There were many thousands of beggars, he had reminded her on a number of occasions, who would be only too happy to wear what her ladyship so carelessly discarded. It had been an unjust accusation, she had always thought—at least after the first year or so. By then she had become a hoarder. Besides, he had never had much compassion for beggars. As a Justice of the Peace he had rigorously prosecuted any vagrants who had happened into the neighborhood.
She was not sure now if her excitement over the changes outweighed her resentment. She hated to be beholden to him—to the new Earl of Wanstead. She hated his assumption that she had been afraid to ask him for anything—even though it wastrue!—or that she had been acting the martyr and deliberately hiding her needs from him.
And she deeply resented him and his hostility and sarcasm—and his very physical presence. She hated his assumption that he knew the whole of it. How simple he made it sound—she had chosen money over love and so had rejected him for Gilbert. Nothing was ever that simple. But she scorned to try to explain to him. Besides, there was no explanation that would satisfy him, for basically that had been it. She had married Gilbert because he was a wealthy man. She had rejected Gerard because he was not. But onlybasically—there had been a great deal more.
She hated to remember that one particular day in her life. The memories still had the power to make her feel faint, to bring the ache of impotent tears to the back of her throat.
She hoped at least after the past hour or so, during which they had discussed business quite sensibly and without any personal overtones, that for the rest of his stay they could treat each other with civility—like a man who had just arrived at his home and met his predecessor’s widow for the first time.
But her feathers were soon ruffled again.
The Earl of Wanstead made an announcement when they were all seated at the dining table partaking of luncheon. It began actually with a question.
“Aunt Hannah,” he asked, “do you play the pianoforte as well as you used to? I heard only Margaret last evening.”
“I would not saywell, Gerard,” Lady Hannah told him. “I am not sure I ever playedwell, though it is kind of you to say that I did. But I have kept my hand in since returning to Thornwood. Mr. Milne kept only a spinet, which makes pretty enough music, it is true, but I always favored the smoother tones of the pianoforte.”
“Good,” his lordship said briskly. “You will look through all the sheet music with me afterward, if you would be so good. I wish to find some tune suited to the waltz.”
Margaret gaped and returned her attention hurriedly to her plate, as if someone had uttered a profanity that she was pretending not to have heard. Christina’s lips thinned.
“Oh, I know several suitable pieces by heart, Gerard,” Lady Hannah surprised them all by saying. “I saw it danced once and thought it wonderfully romantic. I never said so to Gilbert, of course. He considered it—well...” She glanced at Christina with a smile.
“Ungodly?” the earl suggested.
“Vulgar too,” Christina said.Obscenemight have been a more appropriate word, but Gilbert would never have uttered that word aloud—not, at least, in the hearing of ladies. There were to be waltzes at the Christmas ball after all, then? Despite her specific request to the contrary?
“Splendid,” his lordship said. “We will all meet in the ballroom, then, at four o’clock. Margaret and her ladyship will need to learn the steps before Christmas.”
No. Oh, no. Absolutely no!
“You are serious,” Margaret said, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Caroline Ferris told me that partners have to clutch each other when they waltz.”
“Only,” his lordship told her, “if they do not know the steps and are afraid of falling down—or of treading all over each other’s toes. I plan to teach you not to fear either, Margaret.”
“Waltzing,” she said. Her voice sounded awed. “In the ballroom.”
“Precisely,” her cousin agreed. “At four o’clock.”
Christina ate doggedly on. She would not give him the satisfaction of arguing with him or even commenting, though she could feel his eyes on her for a few moments.
But the earl had not finished with his announcements. “I sent a note to Miss Penny, the village dressmaker, and she sent an immediate reply with my messenger,” he said, looking at Christina along the length of the table. “She will be here, my lady, as soon as my carriage has had time to go and fetch her and all the paraphernalia she will need to bring with her. I would be obliged if you will spend a couple of hours with her this afternoon, choosing patterns and fabrics and trimmings and being measured. I have composed a list for her of what I consider your basic needs. If I have forgotten anything, and I daresay I have, feel free to add to the list.”
“Oh,” Margaret said, turning envious eyes on her, “you are going to have new clothes, Christina?”
But Christina scarcely heard her. She had turned icy cold. He had sent for Miss Penny? He had composed a list? A list? He dared to assume a knowledge of her basic needs? Was she expected to pour out her gratitude?
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, “but that was quite unnecessary. I might have called upon Miss Penny myself within the next day or two. She already has some patterns of which she knows I approve. And I need only two dresses.”
“But it is excessively kind—” Lady Hannah began.
“Notmy lady,” his lordship said at the same moment, “if you intend to stay at Thornwood to entertain my guests. You will need a whole new wardrobe, I would wager, and a fashionable one to boot. I warned Miss Penny in my note that she will need some assistants if everything is to be ready in time.”
“Oh!” Margaret sounded enraptured.
