“Amelia, unhand the countess and take your seat at once!”
“Sorry, Mother.” Amelia gave a little sigh as she let go of Sophie’s hands and returned to her seat, her previous excitement now snuffed out like a candle’s flame.
Minerva Logan sat in a very upright chair with a high back that resembled a throne. She wore her hair pulled severely back from her pale face, which accentuated a fierce scowl; her slight frame was dwarfed by a heavy dull brown brocade dress that extended from her chin to the floor.
“My lady,” Sophie said, sinking into a curtsy.
“Countess.” Lady Logan acknowledged her with one short word.
“I believe it is customary to curtsy before a countess, Minerva.”
Sophie stiffened at Letty’s tone. She quickly looked at Lady Logan, who seemed frozen to her chair now, eyes wide as they studied her old friend.
“Minerva,” Letty prompted, this time with a little more force. Sophie had never seen such a fierce expression in her sister-in-law’s eyes.
“O-of course,” Lady Logan said, then gained her feet and curtsied to Sophie, her movements stilted, almost as if the gesture was unnatural.
“Hello, my dear,” Letty said, turning to Amelia. “It is lovely to meet you again.”
“And you, Lady Carstairs.”
“I’m sure your mother hasn’t told you this, but we were once dear friends, Amelia.”
“Oh,” Amelia said, looking at her mother, whose face was now flushed with color.
“You will not speak of that time.” Lady Logan’s tone was fierce.
“What time, Mother?” Amelia looked worried.
“Sophie, go with Amelia to see her treasures,” Letty said.
“Amelia, you will stay here!” Lady Logan demanded in a shrill voice. “The countess has no wish to indulge in your ridiculous hobby.”
Sophie grabbed Amelia’s arm and pulled her from the room, quietly closing the door behind them.
“I will explain about that, Amelia, but we must first reach your rooms,” Sophie said to her friend as Amelia threw her a questioning look. Thankfully, she just nodded and led the way.
Amelia’s room was like the rest of the house, stark and dreary, but the display of small figurines was lovely.
“You have a wonderful collection, Amelia,” Sophie said, inspecting a brown horse with a long black mane.
“Tell me what is going on, Sophie.”
She needed to know, and Letty had not told Sophie to stay quiet on the matter. Besides, Amelia should know what was between her mother and Letty. So she told her everything she knew.
“So my mother and Lady Carstairs have not spoken since I was born? But they were friends?”
“Yes.”
“That is sad; perhaps if Mama and Lady Carstairs had remained friends, she would have been happier. She speaks to no one now and is usually just grumpy and angry.”
Which probably meant Lady Logan had made her daughter suffer because of her moods.
“I’m sorry, Amelia?—”
“I thought my mother was just always like she is now. But it seems that wasn’t the case if she and Lady Carstairs were friends, because she is so nice, and while I love Mother, she is not.”
Sophie didn’t know what to say to that or how to make it better. Instead, she allowed Amelia to show her every small figurine she had purchased and knew deep inside that this had been her solace. The place she’d come when life was too hard living with Minerva Logan.
