“Nonsense!” Lucy said, smiling. “I can’t wait to see the fruition of all your efforts. My own bathing room is positively a work of art. I thought I was in Italy whilst in the tub.”
They found Mrs. Norton, who was less enthusiastic at the prospect. But after a not-so-subtle hint from Cordelia that if she did not, she would lose her position, she accompanied them. It was a good thing that the housekeeper didn’t know that Thomas would never let his wife dismiss her. Still, Cordelia felt a pang of guilt for threatening the older woman. She wished they had a better relationship, but Mrs. Norton only seemed to respond to threats, rather than requests.
Cordelia pointed out to Lucy the white bear hearthrugs, shaded lamps, and silk tapestries that she’d received as wedding gifts.
“They brighten up the ancient rooms and give them a much-needed warmth,” Lucy said.
Cordelia asked Mrs. Norton to bring more cushions to each room. The housekeeper harrumphed but added, “Very good, my lady.”
Then Lucy and Cordelia added books to every bedside table and made sure that the writing tables had plenty of paper, pens, and stamps.
“I think everything looks perfect,” Lucy said.
Cordelia hugged her friend. “I am so worried that I will fail at my first time as a hostess.”
“You won’t,” Lucy assured her. “You are the smartest person I have ever met, and after your first house party, the English aristocracy will be picking up the phrase ‘Keeping up with the Joneses.’”
“That would please my mother.”
“Have you—have you written back to her yet?”
Cordelia shook her head. “I can’t. I won’t let her think that I have forgiven her because I never will.”
Lucy nodded. “I confess that we arrived so late last night that I didn’t get to see much of the outside of the abbey. Would you take me on a tour of it now?”
“We could go on a short walk before the guests arrive,” Cordelia said, leading her friend to the side door, where Mrs. Norton handed Cordelia and Lucy their hats. “I’ll show you my favorite spot.”
She led Lucy by the mirror pond and down the path that led to the grove of ash trees. She’d missed these walks during the last week. They had been her only refuge when she’d first arrived at Ashdown. Underneath their shady bows, she no longer needed her hat or its infernal double veil, so she took it off.
Lucy pulled her veil over her hat, with a remorseful expression on her face. “I am so sorry, Cordelia. I wanted to help you and I’ve made everything worse.”
Cordelia reached out her hand and touched Lucy’s arm. “Nonsense! Your presence here has made everything better.”
Her friend shook her head. “I encouraged Stuyvesant. I told him all about the awful English servants and the insufferably snobby aristocrats…and I let him read your letters to me. He was enraged on your behalf. He told me that he wanted to hurt your husband.”
“It’s not Thomas’s fault,” Cordelia said quickly, touching her own hot cheek. “I’m sorry if I gave you a bad opinion of him. He has been nothing but kind to me…so considerate of my feelings. He treats me as an equal.”
“But you haven’t been happy here.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but there was too much truth in Lucy’s words. Blanche’s ignorance was often hurtful, and Penelope made every meal a misery by making puppy-dog eyes at Thomas. He loved Penelope and she loved Stuyvesant.
Cordelia heard a loud crack and looked up to see a glimpse of a large branch falling toward her. She shoved Lucy out of the way just in time, the smaller branches of the large branch scratching the bottom of her legs and tangling in her dress. She unhooked her dress and turned over.
“Are you all right, Lucy?”
Her friend’s beautiful red hair was streaming down her back in disarray. Her dress and gloves were covered in dirt. The hat she had borrowed was squashed beneath her.
“I am.”
Cordelia struggled to her feet and then offered a hand to Lucy. “I’m so sorry.”
“What caused it to fall?” Lucy asked.
They examined the fallen limb. It was enormously thick. If it had hit her or Lucy on the head, it might have killed them. The edge had been cut—someone had purposely tried to hurt her—them. And everyone at Ashdown Abbey knew that this was her favorite spot.
“Look!” Lucy pointed. “There’s a man running away.”
Cordelia followed the trajectory of Lucy’s finger and saw a man, or someone dressed as a man, darting through the trees. They were too far away for any recognizable features. The only thing that she knew for certain was that Hibbert was in prison, which meant that someone else was responsible.
