“Of course.”
“I shall handle the inside of the house: new plaster, painting, furniture, curtains, plumbing, and reupholstering. If you wouldn’t mind heading up having electric lights and central heating installed, reinforcing the crumbling exterior, and replacing the roof.”
Thomas felt his lips twitch before he smiled. His American wife was certainly efficient. “You have a deal, partner.”
She hopped off the desk. “I shall speak to your mother first and ensure that any pieces of furniture that have a particular sentimentality will be kept.”
“That is very considerate of you.”
Cordelia beamed at him. “Then I shall show Hibbert and Mrs. Norton which pieces of furniture are to be donated or burned, and which ones are to be kept… I shall probably have to travel to London soon to purchase new furniture. I daresay nothing in the countryside would be quite up to our standard.”
He felt a surprising pang in his chest. She’d only been at Ashdown for one day, and she was already planning to leave it. Not that he blamed her; it was a hovel compared to her home in New York.
Thomas cleared his throat. “I don’t know if you heard your father, but he purchased us a fully furnished house in London.”
His wife had refused to speak to either of her parents after the wedding. Again, he could not blame her. They had used her disgracefully to restore their own standing in the community, without any consideration of her feelings or ambitions.
Cordelia stiffened and the smile fell from her mocking lips. “I don’t think that I will stay there… I shouldn’t wish to put out the servants for only three or four days. Miss Vaughn and I shall be snug at the Savoy Hotel.”
Thomas didn’t speak. He was holding his breath, waiting for her to include him in the invitation.
She clapped her hands again. “I shall go today. There is so much to do before I catch the afternoon train. I don’t have time to dawdle.”
His wife swept out of the room, with the same sparkle and energy that she had entered it. Every aspect of the space appeared more dilapidated without her.
15
She found her mother-in-law in a small sitting room on the ground floor. Both she and Penelope were sewing.
“There you are, Lady Farnham,” Cordelia said.
The older woman smiled. “You are Lady Farnham now too, and I am the dowager. Perhaps it would be less confusing, Cordelia, if you called me Blanche.”
“I should like that.”
Blanche lifted up the handkerchief she was working on. “Would you care to join us?”
“You are so kind,” Cordelia said, and actually meant it. “I was hoping that I could discuss with you which pieces of furniture you want preserved or reupholstered, and which ones I can simply replace.”
Blanche’s whole face lit up. “New furniture! How lovely. I daresay in America everything is new.”
“Many things are.”
“How wonderful,” she said. “I haven’t had any new furniture since my wedding, nearly twenty-three years ago. My parents gave me the formal dining table and chairs as a part of my dowry.”
Cordelia sat on the edge of a chair and folded her hands in her lap. “Then we must keep them.”
Blanche sighed and shook her head. “It has become so shabby like the rest of the house.”
“I daresay the table only needs a good polishing, and the chairs can be reupholstered in a dark velvet.”
“Do they have velvet in America?”
Her mother-in-law’s questions had annoyed her last night, but this morning she realized that the poor woman’s world was so small. She had only ever lived in England, and, therefore, Cordelia could patiently answer every question. “Happily, we do. Penelope, are there any particular pieces you would like kept?”
Penelope glanced up from her sewing, her pretty mouth pinched. “I have no right to have an opinion.”
Cordelia couldn’t have agreed more, but she attempted a conciliatory smile. “You are a member of our household and therefore anything you say will have weight in our decision-making.”
