Bridget was even more grateful that she’d convinced Aunt Marianne to make her escape the minute the scowling Lady Darby stepped out of her carriage, leaning on her walking stick and followed by her lady’s maid.
“Lady Darby,” Bridget said. “Welcome to Villa De Lacey. I’m Bridget De Lacey.”
Lady Darby was a cantankerous woman with a head of faded red curls, streaked white with age, blue eyes under which loose skin gathered in folds and thin lips. She scowled in response to Bridget’s greeting.
“Where is that blasted nephew of mine?” Lady Darby said, peering down the carriageway. “He was supposed to be following directly behind me with the luggage.”
“I’m here, Aunt.” A man with bright copper curls poked his head out of the much smaller carriage parked directly behind Lady Darby’s coach. “Right behind you, as promised.”
“What’s taking you so long to exit your carriage? I want to go inside. It’s been a hellish journey, and I’m tired.”
“Mrs. Harley is feeling a little unwell,” he said as he pushed open the carriage door.
“Unwell?” Lady Darby appeared almost gleeful. “In what way? Is she experiencing nausea?”
“I am a little nauseous, yes,” Mrs. Harley said as her husbandhelped her from the carriage. She was an exceedingly pale and thin woman with light-brown curls, a snub nose, and downturned blue eyes.
“That is something. Mayhap, you might finally provide my nephew with an heir. Heaven knows you’ve taken long enough.”
Bridget stepped back, alarmed by Lady Darby’s aggressive tone and rude manner.
“Perhaps.” Mrs. Harley offered a weak smile.
“Don’t just stand there. Go and lie down immediately. If such a miracle has occurred and your inadequate womb has managed to produce something, we cannot take any risks.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Mr. Harley said, “but I agree that resting is a good idea.”
“Conclusions are all I have!” Lady Darby snapped. Then she turned to Bridget. “Show us to our rooms, girl.”
Bridget bit back a retort to the woman’s rudeness and summoned Eliza and James, the footman.
“I say, why is everyone dressed in mourning clothes? Is it for Mad King George? He’s been dead for months already,” Lady Darby said as Eliza approached, wearing her black crepe dress. She’d insisted on wearing full mourning attire since Mr. De Lacey’s death, which, although odd, Bridget found enduring.
“It’s for my father, Mr. De Lacey,” Bridget said.
“Oh, yes. Thefelo de sewho gambled away his fortune.” She looked Bridget up and down. “You are an unfortunate creature, aren’t you?”
Bridget gave the woman a tight smile. But she would have liked to shake her. How dare she speak about her papa in that callous way? Had her circumstances been different, she would not have held her tongue. But how could she bear such insults for a whole month? These guests had traveled many miles to reach Villa De Lacey, and all had planned a long and relaxing stay.
Lady Darby then turned her eyes to Eliza. “What is her reason for wearing full mourning? Is she also a relation?”
“Eliza has been working at Villa De Lacey for years, since before I was born. She feels Mr. De Lacey’s loss very deeply.”
Lady Darby pulled her mouth down at the corners. “Nonetheless, a servant is not family. A black ribbon would suffice, but full mourning attire like a widow—it’s unnatural.”
Bridget responded to Lady Darby with another tight smile but made a mental note to ask Eliza to change her dress. Much as she disliked Lady Darby, she had to admit that the lady had a point. With so many people dressed in black, Villa De Lacey looked more like a morgue than an exclusive inn near the shores of England’s most beautiful and serene lake.
A flicker of anger flashed in Eliza’s dark eyes, but to her credit, she kept quiet, squaring her shoulders and responding with silent dignity to Lady Darby’s rudeness. Bridget did the same but found it maddeningly difficult. She’d desperately wanted to give that nasty curmudgeon a piece of her mind. Bridget exhaled her relief as she watched Eliza lead Lady Darby’s party and their servants to their respective rooms.I hope the remaining guests are not as difficult as her.
“Are you out here all on your lonesome?” Nate’s voice sounded behind Bridget, bringing a smile to her face. It never failed to surprise her how his presence lifted her spirits.
“I am. My aunt has gone upstairs to get some much-needed rest, and Eliza is showing Lady Darby and Mr. and Mrs. Harley to their rooms.”
“Lady Darby, indeed. She’s a charmer, isn’t she?”
Bridget giggled. “I do feel sorry for her nephew and his wife.”
“Yes, poor old Harley lives at her mercy, and I know a bit what that’s like. Having to constantly please a wealthy relative is a painful existence.” Nate’s jaw tightened.
