Lying was wrong. Standing there in the housekeeper’s room was, no doubt, wrong in another way. So was being abandoned by her husband.
Veronica smiled. “Do you know where it is?” Not quite a lie, but definitely not the truth.
“I do,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Shall I bring it to you, Your Ladyship?”
“I don’t want to trouble you, Mrs. Gardiner. If you’ll tell me where it is, I’ll fetch it myself.”
For a moment she thought the housekeeper wouldn’t agree. A hand went to a curl neatly tied in a strip of white cloth. Evidently, Mrs. Gardiner was not too old for a little vanity. She obviously didn’t want to be seen outside her room prepared for sleep.
“You’ve been so kind to me, Mrs. Gardiner,” she said sincerely. “I truly don’t mind.”
The housekeeper studied her for a moment, a look reminiscent of that very room two nights ago, and how Mrs. Gardiner had sat propped up in bed watching her until she’d fallen asleep. She’d taken her duty seriously and evidently her loyalty as well.
Except Veronica was no longer just some girl to be watched. She was Lady Fairfax.
“It’s in His Lordship’s library,” the housekeeper said. “In the credenza. The third door. I placed it there myself.”
Before leaving Mrs. Gardiner, Veronica folded her hands together tightly, and asked, “Did you see anything in the mirror, Mrs. Gardiner?”
The housekeeper wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“I’m a godly woman, Your Ladyship.”
She nodded.
“Do you think the mirror is magic? Is that why you called it a scryer’s mirror?”
“Some say that magic is not the Lord’s province. It’s the Devil’s.”
Veronica didn’t comment.
“Still, it was a pretty sight I saw. All my nieces and nephews surrounding me, singing.” The housekeeper finally looked at her. “How can something so lovely be evil?”
She didn’t comment, merely thanked the older woman, and made her way back down the stairs.
On the third floor, the staircase was not as ornate, the balusters more simply carved. As she descended to the first floor, however, the carving became more elaborate, the banister mahogany instead of simple pine.
The steps curved at the landing instead of being squared, and as she reached the well-polished wooden floor, the soft glow of an oil lamp on the table beside the front door illuminated her way.
She’d extinguish the lamp on her way back to her room.
The beeswax and lemon polish used to buff the fine mahogany furniture mixed with the sandalwood from the potpourri pots, no doubt placed in strategic locations to offset the odor of the oil lamps.
Light pooled around the hallway table but not enough to illuminate the library. She stood at the doorway, staring into the room. Shadows enveloped the corners, draped over the desk and chairs.
She entered the room and lit the oil lamp on the corner of the desk. The wick caught flame, the glow expanding beyond the glass globe. For a moment, she watched it to ensure it was burning correctly, then looked around her as she’d not had the opportunity to do earlier.
Turning, she faced Montgomery’s desk. A leather-bound blotter sat in the middle of the desk, a pen case slightly to the right. A crystal inkwell rested an inch beyond the blotter. A small, japanned box rested on the left corner of the desk beside a bell.
What kind of work did Montgomery do when he sat there? Did he write letters home? In his next letter, would he mention her? Or would he keep their sudden marriage a secret from those he loved?
She wished she knew more about the man she’d married. Where was he? Or was that even a question she should ask?
Aunt Lilly had always been solicitous of Uncle Bertrand, but she’d never heard her aunt question her husband. If her uncle volunteered information, Aunt Lilly was content enough. Not once had she ever said to him, at least within Veronica’s hearing, “What will you be doing today, my dear?” Or, “With whom will you be meeting? Have you any plans?”
At the same time, her aunt was careful to ensure that her husband approved all her outings, including those involving the girls.
Her parents’ relationship had been different. Each morning, they’d discussed their plans for the day. Her mother had neither sought approval for her actions, nor had her father granted it.
