“Yes, cottage,” she said, laughing at his puzzled expression. “Houses built raised off the ground to deter unwelcome visits from snakes and other animals are called raised cottages, regardless of size.”
He studied the structure. It did appear to be raised, probably some six feet from the ground. It was a massive, square building with a hipped roof overhanging the house and supported by turned wood columns. Large dormers jutted from the roof on all sides, and a curious little cupola with wrought-iron railings surmounted the roof. The wide covered gallery, created by the overhanging roof, ran entirely around the house and was also fronted by wrought-iron railings. The steep steps leading up to the gallery were edged with wrought iron as well. Two wide windows stood on either side of the massive entrance to the house, with its elaborate Georgian-style moldings framing the doorway.
Four young men ran from the side of the house to take the horses and assist those in the carriage just now coming up the drive. The front door opened and a willowy figure in white dimity picked up her skirts and ran down the steps, mindless of the flash of slender calf she displayed.
“Louisa!” called Vanessa in obvious delight. She kicked free of her stirrups and, gathering her skirts about her. Slid off her horse before either of the gentlemen with her could move to assist.
Smiling at the two women, similar in height and facial features, Hugh ruefully acknowledged Vanessa’s precipitous action of dismounting unattended probably saved them all from an embarrassing confrontation. He handed the reins of his horse to one of the young men and stood off to the side as the carriage drew up and the Mannion family descended. The family was quickly engulfed in hugs and kisses, oblivious to Mr. Wilmot and him. Curious to see how Mr. Wilmot accepted this occurrence, Hugh glanced in his direction. The man stood leaning on the step railing, his expression one of boredom. Hugh grinned, realizing an opportunity to further Wilmot’s discomfort. Sauntering over to him, he gave him a hearty clap on the back.
“Reminds me of my family. It almost makes me homesick. If a member has not been seen in a while, it always was family first and hang the guests,” he said, chuckling as they watched the Mannions. “How about your family, Wilmot?”
Wilmot sneered slightly at Hugh but could not refuse to answer under Hugh’s steady regard. “We’re not that close,” he said simply, pushing away from the railings as the Mannions appeared to be recollecting their surroundings and about to approach the house.
Hugh nodded, well satisfied with what he’d observed. During the ride to the Chaumonde estate, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Wilmot had snubbed him. The fact that he didn't might have been because of Vanessa’s presence; now, he knew differently. Wilmot lacked the ability to deliver a direct cut. A man who could not do so was a man who feared one being turned in his direction. Interesting, Hugh mused, as the family came up beside him.
“Louisa!” cried Paulette excitedly, dancing up beside him and taking his arm. “This is Monsieur Talverton. He is an aristocrat from England,” she confided artlessly.
Hearty male laughter drew their attention to the steps. At the top stood Charles Chaumonde, his arms across his chest, laughing at his sister. Trevor Danielson stood at his side.
“Trust Paulette to cut to the heart of the matter, where her interest lies,” said her brother as he descended the steps.
Paulette pouted at him, which only caused Charles to laugh more. Coming up before her, he chucked her under the chin.
“You lack tact, my little sister. You should try for more of Vanessa’s sangfroid.”
His sally drew smiles from all and a light blush to Vanessa’s cheeks, but she rallied admirably.
“And you, dear brother, could do well to follow your own advice,” she said primly.
He shrugged expansively, then placed a chaste salute upon her cheek. “Ah, but I, little one, am a man,” he responded enigmatically before turning to shake hands with Hugh Talverton and Russell Wilmot while his wife sputtered indignantly.
Louisa shook her head in vexation, the deep red of her hair catching the morning sun. “Come,” she said, gesturing toward the house, “let’s go inside before he becomes too outrageous.” The arch look she cast her husband was full of exasperated love.
She led them into a large foyer with a magnificent freestanding curved staircase, flanked by two servant women dressed primly in dove-colored dresses with starched white aprons. “Mr. Talverton, Mr. Wilmot, Ruth will show you to your rooms while Bessie and I lead my family to theirs. When you have freshened up, we will be serving a light repast in the dining room, and we can talk much more comfortably then. Ruth will show you the way when you are ready,” she said, smiling graciously. Behind her came the sound of the men taking the trunks and portmanteaux from the carriage.
“We’ll await you in the parlor,” Charles said, leading Trevor away.
Vanessa burst out laughing after Mr. Wilmot and Mr. Talverton disappeared upstairs. “Gracious, Louisa, you play the grand lady of the manor so elegantly!”
“One has to if one is going to socialize with and be accepted by the Creoles,” she conceded wryly.
‘Mais, naturellement,”said Paulette, her expression perplexed that Louisa should even need to make such a comment. “How else would it be?”
“Thus is the Creole conceit,” murmured Louisa, exchanging glances with her mother and sisters.
“Where isTanteTeresa?” asked Paulette.
Louisa laughed. “She follows Celeste’s example, she’s napping.”
“Is she still as big as a house?” Paulette demanded, laughing.
“Worse!” Louisa replied in horrified tones, causing all of them to laugh.
Richard Mannion harrumphed. “Enough nattering. What rooms are you going to put us in this time?”
“The same as last time,” his eldest daughter tranquilly responded.
He grunted acknowledgment and started up the stairs, followed by the women still talking. On the landing, Amanda Mannion stopped and laid her hand on Louisa’s arm.
