Lina waited until the sound of Evangeline’s footsteps receded before meeting Anna’s astonished gaze in the mirror.
Anna was bursting with excitement.
“Will you paint your lips?” she asked excitedly. “Oh, do let me do it.”
Chapter Three
Evangeline’s dresswas a bit too large, but Mrs. Gray had evidently foreseen the problem and devised an elaborate belt to cinch up the loose fabric. She pinned the bodice with an almost magical method that could not be seen, but issued a warning in a hushed voice. “Walk and sitproperly,lest the pins be disturbed and prick your skin.”
“Mrs. Gray, why not just let it out—”
“You must look your best, dearie,” Mrs. Gray said sharply. Then tenderly, brushing the velvet to smooth it all in the same direction: “This could be the very fortunate event this family has prayed for.” Her eyes returned to Lina’s. “Now. Be a proper lady.”
This final command was issued with a force very atypical of Mrs. Gray, and it caused a stab of fear to pierce Lina’s heart.
“Off you go,” she said, pushing Lina toward the door. “Mind you, use your Christian name and say as little as possible.”
Evangeline, who had returned to throw herself dramatically on her bed, crying that she felt quite ill and could not have dinner anyway, sniffed and did not look up at Lina as she left the room. Anna grinned nervously, but nothing occurred to her to say.
* * *
The dining room wasgleaming and smelled of fresh polish, and Lina noted with some amusement as well as trepidation that the finest rug in the home, an antique oriental rug that remained carefully stored and was to eventually be sold, had been retrieved and placed in the room, along with the fine china that was similarly boxed away with the intention of selling it.
The room was barely and unevenly lit, with the candelabra placed at the end of the table where Mrs. Gray indicated that she should sit. Lina gave her a strange look, which Mrs. Gray cut short with a searing glare issued at precisely the same time that the semi-hysterical Lilla Harlowe, wife of Lina’s guardian, stiffened noticeably.
Lina allowed her chair to be pulled out by Mr. Gray, who was playing the role of butler in a rarely-used suit with tails that, like the rug and the china, had been mysteriously recuperated from storage.
Rushing to the dining room, Mrs. Gray had pulled Lina aside at an alcove and whispered sharply.
“The visitor is averywealthy gentleman. He is a foreigner and a reclusive man with eccentric habits. He will attend dinner at a private table, and you arenotto make a fuss about it. It is in the interest of all concerned but especially you, Miss Caroline, that you say very little and mind your manners.” Then she had squeezed Caroline’s hand and implored, tears in her eyes, “Please.”
Lina had followed, bewildered, with a cold stone of fear settling in her gut. Desperately, she wanted to ask Mrs. Gray why she even needed to be at this dinner if all she was to do was remain silent, and who this gentleman was, and why, if he was so very eccentric and reclusive, was he dining with anyone at all? Most importantly—and the question lingered in her mind, bringing with it a peculiar dread—why was hehereat all? Wealthy gentlemen generally stayed far away from the Harlowe household, as the Harlowes’ fall from wealth had been accompanied by a commensurate fall from society. And since the depths of the Harlowes’ financial ruin were known in detail only to the Harlowes, and covered up as best as could be done, wealthy men were not invited to the Manor, lest they discover for themselves the elaborate ruse.
Lina sat, and her heart raced as she struggled to remember her “manners.” The glare of the candles made it hard to see even the Harlowes, seated at the opposite end of the table, much less the supposed guest, who she assumed was seated by the great window, where a table could be placed if one wished.
But why would anyone do such a thing?
