“What a beautiful orchid.” Laura kissed Cilla’s cheek. “It is the same variety as those over by the window.”
“His lordship kindly sent them.” Cilla nodded at Nathaniel. “You have no need of flowers, Laura; you look like an exotic orchid yourself.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Laura ushered her guests into the diningroom.
She was pleased with her efforts and those of her servants. She would be sure to praise them in the morning. The candles and the crystal chandelier bathed the room in a soft light. The new curtains and chair coverings, made by the upholsterer in Penzance, who was delighted to have the business, were perfect. Brilliant copper beech leaves arranged in Chinese urns added wonderful color.
Earlier, Laura had run a practiced eye over the table, as her mother had taught her. The silverware gleamed. Two rows of glassware for the champagne, sauterne and sherry. A red glass had been added for the Rhine wine, which she had to admit was a nice addition. Silver bowls filled with fresh fruits and dishes of celery, olives and radishes sat on thetable.
Mrs. Madge outdid herself with six courses, beginning with shellfish soup, sole in cream sauce, buttered lobster, Cornish hens, ham timbales with cucumber sauce, a soufflé as light as air, and ending with chocolate pudding and pastries. In immaculate black, Rudge expertly poured the wine with his white-gloved hands.
It began as a subdued gathering, with the events of the last week discussed in respectful, hushed voices. But as the evening progressed, the atmosphere lightened. Nathaniel paused to smile at her. He and Jack Whitelaw discussed something about a new diving apparatus at Cherbourg, which allowed a man to go to greater depths in the sea. Laura returned his smile. The dinner proved a success! She had thirsted for such lively company since she’d come here. Thinking of her father, she listened with interest as the conversation turned to the British Army’s success over the Boers near Dundee, Natal, where there were heavy casualties. Concern was then expressed for Queen Victoria’shealth.
Laura drew Mrs. Archer into the conversation, inquiring about her parish duties. The good lady expressed surprise at the spate of babies born in the last few months and how poor Mr. Archer had been hard-pressed to baptize themall.
Noticing how quiet Cilla was, Laura asked her if she’d heard of the latest Albrecht Dürer forgery discovered at a London artgallery.
“Hardly news. There are hundreds, possibly thousands of art forgeries in galleries all over the world,” Cilla statedflatly.
After the dessert course, the women left the men to their port and cigars and retired to the salon. While the sisters chatted with the vicar’s wife, Victoria leaned toward Laura. “My husband and I were delighted when we heard Nathaniel was to marry again. It would have been a terrible shame if a man such as he was left alone to brood.”
Laura took a deep breath, wishing to ask so many questions, which, of course, she couldnot.
Victoria laid a hand on her arm. “I can see you will be good for him. He has not made the mistake of marrying someone like his first wife. Many men do, you know.”
“Not in looks certainly,” Laura said. “If her portrait is anything to go by. She was blonde and very beautiful.”
Victoria’s blue gaze softened. “I don’t know you well, my dear, but I can assure you, you are nothing like Amanda in nature either.”
“I know very little about her.” At least little she could be sure of. Did Victoria mean Laura was not as lively? Amanda would be utterly charming in company, she supposed. Laura looked at Cilla, but she was absorbed in stirring hercoffee.
Victoria smiled. “Amanda was pretty and vivacious, but you, I suspect, have a quiet strength.”
Cilla rose abruptly to pull back the curtain and gaze out into the darkness. Laura followed, aware of how out of place she seemed here. Had it been foolish of Laura to think that she would enjoy theevening?
“What is it, Cilla?”
“I thought I heard the wind pick up. Perhaps a squall.”
“I hope not. Come and sit with me, tell me more about Paris.”
Was Cilla enjoying herself? As she sat down again, Laura felt a rush of pity for her friend; she’d hardly said a word at dinner. Perhaps Hugh was not the right sort of man for her. She doubted he was interested in art. When Laura returned to Wolfram, she would cast the net wider to invite men to dinner who would appreciate her. More intimate dinners, where her friend might relax more. She may not wish to marry, but Cilla might enjoy a man’s company as much as the nextwoman.
Before Cilla could speak of Paris, Miss Parthena Fairfax leaned forward. “Don’t you agree, Lady Lanyon?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Fairfax. I missed your question.”
Miss Parthena repeated her request for Laura’s opinion of the vicar’s sermon last Sunday. “Wasn’t it splendid?”
Laura murmured her agreement. Her memory of the context and thrust of the vicar’s argument had quite escapedher.
“My husband does little in the way of formal preparation,” added Mrs.Archer.
“Divine inspiration,” Miss Orpha said with asigh.
The vicar’s wife nodded, her eyes alight. “Mr. Archer prefers to step up to the pulpit and be fed directly by God.”
Laura thought she heard an amused huff from Cilla. She didn’t darelook.
