“Excuse me!” The preemptive command behind them brought her abruptly to attention. She dropped her hands to her side and pivoted around, still clinging to the piece of linen. Mr. Kendrick turned as well. Mia could hear Hector barking on the portico and, unless she was mistaken, throwing himself against the massive door.
A woman in a prim white cap and the dark-gray gown of an upper servant stood in the center of the entranceway, hands clasped tightly, mouth in a thin line, disapproval radiating from every line of her body.
“One improper lady is quite enough. We don’t need another hoyden,” she said in clipped tones. “You are the viscount’s…niece, I presume.” If her tone wasn’t exactly sneering, neither was it respectful. Mia noticed she hadn’t addressed Mr. Kendrick by name or as “sir.”
“I am Miss Euphemia Selwyn. I’ve come to escort my cousin back to Selwyn Court.”
The housekeeper breathed in so sharply her nose pinched shut, causing a whistle. At least, Mia assumed this vision of fury was Mrs. Morrit, Woodglen’s famous dragon of a housekeeper, since no mere mortal servant would be so haughty. “Unfortunately, Miss Selwyn cannot traipse back where she belongs. She has taken a chill,” the woman announced.
“Are you sure?” Mia asked.
Mrs. Morrit’s eyes blazed. “Are you questioning my judgment?”
“I’m questioning my cousin’s…determination.” Mia drew back from accusing Selina of lying outright.
“Her shivering is genuine. She’s flushed and warm. I can’t vouch for the sore throat she claims. The foolish chit walked here in a deluge when the sun was just rising.”
“What is to be done, Mrs. Morrit?” Kendrick asked. “We can’t—”
“I’ll not have this house accused of harming a guest—even an uninvited one. The rain is gone, but the wind is sharp and cold. We are obliged to send for the physician. Dr. Gratis should decide whether to move her.”
“Gratis?” he muttered. Mia had had few dealings with the local physician, but something in Kendrick’s tone gave Mia a cold blast of dread.
“Do what you must, then, Mrs. Morrit,” Kendrick said. He took a step away. “And kindly see this lady to her cousin.” He left the entranceway, his odd, swaying gait carrying him swiftly down the corridor that led to the back of the house. Mrs. Morrit watched him go with a sour frown.
The housekeeper dispatched the lurking footman to the village. “And order that ugly dog driven off or locked in the stables.”
“Let me speak to him,” Mia said quickly. Someone needed to calm Hector lest he harm himself or someone else. She didn’t wait for permission. Hector’s enthusiastic greeting left mud on her skirt and slobber on her face, but he calmed, and when she sent him off with Pritchard, he went meekly. Grateful she still had Kendrick’s handkerchief, she wiped her face, took another sniff of pine, tucked it in her sleeve, and returned to face the housekeeper, left to wonder why Kendrick wished to avoid Dr. Gratis and nonplussed by the housekeeper’s obvious disdain.
Mia clutched the bundle of clothing she’d brought with her and followed the housekeeper up the stairs, eyes on the woman’s rigid back, resigned to whatever misery Selina would have brought down on her.
Chapter Nine
Mrs. Morrit ledMia up three flights to a narrow, unlit corridor. There was no sound of life behind the long row of closed doors. The housekeeper opened the second door on the right, gestured Mia in, and hovered in the open doorway.
Selina lay, pale and wan, on a narrow bed. “Fee, did Papa send you?”
“I’m to fetch you home,” Mia said.
Selina was ready to object, but Mrs. Morrit got there first. “Not until the doctor sees you.” Mia thought the woman’s mouth and nose pinched so tightly her face might crack. “You will not leave this guest wing,” Mrs. Morrit went on. “There will be no reason for you to wander the house.” She left without another word.
Mia peered around the room, still holding the bundle. In addition to the bed, the space contained a pine dresser and washstand, a single straight-backed chair, and a writing desk. No flowers broke up the dour impression. The pitcher and bowl on the washstand were plain, white, and chipped. Embers glowed in the narrow hearth, heroically casting a bit of warmth into the room. It was one she might have expected in a modest inn rather than the great Woodglen manor.
The only ornaments were two framed seascapes, neither large enough for its subject, neither of interest to Mia. “Dogs would have been better, at least,” she muttered, setting the bundle on the desk. She hung her cloak next to Selina’s on a wooden peg affixed to the wall for that purpose. She put her bonnet on the dresser.
“This must be the pokiest room at Woodglen. Like I’m some—” A cough interrupted Selina’s complaint.
“She called this the guest wing. I suspect they don’t get many.” The room showed every sign of neglect. The curtains were dusty, the braided rug needed a beating, and the room smelled musty. Mia also suspected the floor below featured suites for prominent guests. This one likely served the lowest and the least—or the uninvited. She lit the lone candle, a tallow, using a spill lit from the hearth. It did little to improve the gloom.
Mia pressed a hand to her cousin’s brow. “Not feverish,” she said.
“But I could get one yet.” The ninnyhammer sounded hopeful. Still, she huddled under the coverlet and was far more subdued than normal. She made one or two references to the duke’s cousin, Mr. Tavernash, speculating about exactly where, in this great pile, he might be found.
When Selina dropped off to sleep, Mia was left with nothing to do. She sat on the window seat, peering out at a dismal inner courtyard, dark under the day’s gray clouds. She wondered about the direction of the stables where they held Hector.
Soon Mia slept as well. An hour passed or perhaps two before she was awakened by the sound of the door opening. She blinked in the gloom to find Howard Gratis, Nether Abbas’s only claim to medical care, and a frowning Mrs. Morrit, who ordered the footman accompanying them to wait in the hall. The physician set to work immediately.
Dr. Gratis pronounced Selina a “damned fool” but her chill genuine. He recommended she stay overnight and return home in the morning, “assuming she is no worse.” When he ordered her to stay in bed until then, Selina managed only the weakest protest that she should come down to dinner, and Mia suspected her cousin was genuinely ill.
