"Alicia? Here?” Penelope asked, casting aside the paisley shawl and rising swiftly to her feet. She glanced around herdrawing room in dismay. “Dare I ask her mood?” she inquired, picking up several of the china dogs from the table by the daybed and moving them to the mantelpiece.
“Begging your ladyship’s pardon, I do not believe it is within me to venture an assumption as to the countess’s mood; however,” Smythford removed precious china pieces from the small tables which dotted the room and placed them in more out-of-the-way places. “However, I did note her ladyship’s color to be a trifle high, and she did set herself to pacing the front salon immediately upon my conducting her there.”
“Oh, dear,” Penelope said with amused exasperation. Thankfully her sister seldom visited her, preferring that Penelope come to her home. Occasionally, however, something would transpire, and without warning, Alicia would appear on her doorstep. The last visit she had enjoyed from her sister had cost her three figurines and a darling little Sevres vase her husband, Sir Harold Orrick, had procured for her in France. This time it was the strong desire of Lady Orrick and Smythford to save all her pieces from chance destruction. Working together, it took but a moment to move the rest of the delicate porcelain statues to safety. When they had finished, the mantel looked as cluttered as a tinker’s cart, but the fragile porcelains were safe.
Penelope patted another stray lock of hair back into place and nodded to Smythford. “I suppose I really should have anticipated this. It would have been better if I’d gone directly to Harth House on my arrival in town, but what’s done is done,” she said, shrugging philosophically. “Show my sister up before she works herself into a rage.”
“Very good, milady.” Smythford bowed his way out of the room, bestowing a quick last glance around as he did so to assure himself all of her ladyship’s fragile treasures were safe.
Moments later, like a ship in full sail, her sister blew into the room, her skirts swishing violently by the very spot wherePenelope’s Ming vase had stood. The countess tossed her heavy reticule and brown kid gloves onto a nearby table and turned to glare at her younger sister.
“All these weeks I have harbored a viper in my house!” she said shrilly.
Penelope winced. “Please, Alicia,” she said soothingly, “sit down and tell me what has you in such a pelter.”
Alicia opened her mouth to speak, then shut it abruptly, glaring at Smythford still standing by the drawing room door.
Penelope’s mouth twitched, though she gravely requested suitable refreshments be prepared and advised she would ring when they wished to be served. Then, dismissing her butler with a wave of her hand, she turned toward her elder sister, dispassionately noting how her high color clashed with her burnt-orange gown.
The Countess perched herself on the edge of one of the delicate green-and-gold chairs. “I should be abed. I injured my back last night, but?—”
“Oh, Alicia, what happened?”
Her sister scowled at her, not prepared to confide the nature of the accident. “It does not matter. I am merely trying to convey to you the seriousness of the situation.” She paused and took a deep breath. “That—that creature has been deceiving all of us, just as her mother did before her. It’s unheard of! I have never been more shocked in my entire life!”
Penelope sighed. It appeared her sister was now aware of Catherine’s actual position and not pleased to have been made to look the fool by treating her niece as a poor relation. This was not a contingency any of her fellow conspirators anticipated. It might be just as well that they had not formulated any set plans.
It certainly wouldn’t do to allow Alicia to know she was conversant with Catherine’s situation. That would fan the flamesof her sister’s wrath. This might also be an opportunity to fill in the gaps in her knowledge about Catherine.
Penelope schooled her features to look at her sister in vague bewilderment. “Oh dear, I’m afraid I don’t understand. Then how? No, wait,” her hand reached for the bell beside her. “I feel I am going to require some sustenance to fortify me before you begin.”
Alicia inclined her head in acknowledgment, her eyes overly bright, her face flushed. Penelope wished to settle her sister before she worked herself into apoplexy. Also, unless she calmed her sister, Penelope wryly doubted she’d get any information she could understand.
As Smythford carefully passed biscuits to each, Lady Alicia did relax in her chair, though it was evident from the restlessly drumming fingertips on the silk chair arms that her thoughts had not settled.
Pointedly ignoring Smythford’s ministrations, Alicia looked about the room. “Really, my dear, must you keep such tawdry items as those cluttering up your mantel?”
Penelope and Smythford exchanged covert glances.
“All they do is gather dust. They’re not even pretty, all jumbled up like that,” Alicia complained petulantly.
“Ah, but it keeps the servants busy,” Penelope confided blithely.
Her sister, an arrested expression in her eyes, nodded. Penelope, her eyes dancing, held her handkerchief to her lips and feigned a cough to hide a smile.
Smythford maintained his rigidly impassive countenance, acquired with years of practice, and bowed himself out of the room. Closing the doors behind him with a snap, he then allowed himself a grin. He wondered if Lady Harth would take up collecting statues to keep her servants busy. Not that such items would last long in her house, of course. Nonetheless, it wouldbe like her, he allowed, as he walked sedately away from the drawing room.
“All right, dear,” Penelope said, taking a sip of tea. “Please tell me what has transpired, for I dare swear you have intrigued me.”
“Our niece, whom you strongly encouraged me to include in my invitation for a London Season, is not the poor relation we thought her to be! The baggage informs me her mother’s portion was always larger than dear Ralph’s was and that she is to inherit the entire estate of Sir Eugene Burke--you know, that horse breeder all the gentlemen claim is the best.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. A fortune, you say? Well, yes, I suppose if she truly is Sir Eugene Burke’s niece, that would be so. But is her possessing a fortune bad? I thought you considered money to be the greatest cachet to a successful London Season.”
“Yes, yes,” Alicia said testily, waving her arm wildly and scowling at her sister for interrupting. “But that is precisely the point. How can I now say to Society that we’ve all been wrong about Catherine? She isn’t a poor relation. What excuse can I make?”
“Why make an excuse?”
Alicia frowned at her severely. “Your levity simply will not do, sister.”
