“Who? Why, Lady Isabella, of course!” The girl—Amy—pointed a dramatic finger toward the corner of the room, where a child’s bed with pink silk hangings had been arranged against the back wall. “Don’t say Mrs. Briggs didn’t tell you about Isabella?”
“No. I’m afraid she didn’t.” Cecilia and Mrs. Briggs had just sat down to their tea yesterday when the housekeeper had been called away. Cecilia had waited for her in the kitchen until she’d received a note from Mrs. Briggs explaining she’d be busy for some time, and Cecilia might retire for the rest of the evening.
She hadn’t said a word about there being a child at Darlington Castle.
Cecilia drew closer to the bed. The hangings were drawn, but she could hear sniffles coming from the other side of the draping. “I daresay Mrs. Briggs would have said something, but she only had time to outline my duties before our meeting was interrupted.”
“Well then, Cecilia, allow me to present Lady Isabella Olivia Cornelia Rhys.” Amy swept the draperies aside, and there, huddled in the middle of the bed, was the prettiest child Cecilia had ever seen. Or she would have been if her face hadn’t been red from shrieking, and her cheeks stained with tears.
“Oh, dear.” Cecilia tutted. “Whyso many tears?”
She had some experience with children. Lady Clifford had put her in charge of the Clifford School’s youngest pupils, declaring Cecilia to be the only one of her four teachers who was gifted with a naturally patient, affectionate temper.
This child appeared to be about four years old, which was old enough for her to think herself very grown-up indeed, and to demand to have her own way in every particular, while in truth she was still verymuch a child.
“Lady Isabella is Lord Darlington’s daughter?” Cecilia hadn’t heard a thing about his having a child, but then she hadn’t heard a thing about Darlington Castle having a ghost before she arrived, either.
“No, no. Lady Isabella is Lord Darlington’s niece, daughter of his late elder brother and the previous marchioness.”
“Is the child’s mother—”
Amy put a finger to her lips, glanced at Isabella, andshook her head.
Cecilia wasn’t certain whether that meant Isabella’s mother was simply not present, or dead, or undead, for that matter, but Amy was right—one didn’t talk about such things in front of a child. So, Cecilia said no more. Instead she turned back to the bed to find Lady Isabella peeking up at them withwary interest.
The child’s hair was tangled, her night dress soiled with what looked like spilled porridge, and her mouth marred by a sulky twist. Taking into account she was the only child in a wealthy household, and a very beautiful child at that, Cecilia guessed she’d been too much petted and coddled.
“How do you do, Lady Isabella?” Cecilia sank into a solemn curtsy. “My name is Miss Cecilia. Will you come out of there, please, and greet me as a proper young lady is meant to do?”
The child regarded her with a pair of wide eyes. Cecilia couldn’t say whether they were brown, gray, or green, but they were remarkable—quite the prettiest eyes ever to grace achild’s face.
She blinked uncertainly at Cecilia, as if not quite sure what to do.
“Come now, miss.” Cecilia held out a hand to the girl, her voice kind but firm. “I’m certain you must have very pretty manners. Come out and show them to me.”
For the first time that morning, she’d said precisely the right thing. The little girl scrambled down from the bed, eager to show herself off to advantage. The soiled night dress rather spoiled the effect, but she plucked up the folds in her little fists and offered Cecilia a propercurtsy. “See?”
Cecilia smiled. “I do. Very nice, indeed, justas I thought.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Amy murmured, watching the little girl preen over Cecilia’s praise. “It took me more than an hour to get her to come out of there yesterday.”
Cecilia turned to Amy, tapping her finger against her lips. She had a perfectly brilliant if somewhat cowardly idea. “I, ah, I had a bit of trouble lighting Lord Darlington’s firethis morning.”
Amy’s lips twitched as she took in the black smudges staining Cecilia’s apron. “Did you, now? I thought Iheard a crash.”
Cecilia nodded, her lips quirking in an answering grin. “You did. Indeed, I had so much trouble, his lordship’s fire remains as yet unlit. I’d rather not venture into his bedchamber again this morning, after causing such trouble. Perhaps we could—”
“I’d be pleased to attend to Lord Darlington’s fire and whatever else his lordship might require, if you’ll see to it her little ladyship is dressed and servedher breakfast.”
Cecilia let out a breath, her shoulders sagging with relief. It wouldn’t do her much good in the end—if Lord Darlington didn’t dismiss her, she’d be obliged to attend him again—but at least she wouldn’t have to face him quite yet. “I will,with pleasure.”
Amy gave her a cheeky wink, snatched up the coal scuttle as if it were a bucket of feathers, and hurried from the room. A few moments later Cecilia heard a knock, then Amy’s cheerful voice bidding Lord Darlingtona good morning.
Indeed, she could hear Amy quite clearly as she bustled about in the next room. Cecilia’s brows drew together as she noticed a door in the wall opposite Lady Isabella’s bed, and realized this room was connected to Lord Darlington’s apartments.
How odd. Surely Darlington Castle had a nursery? Or was it on the third floor? Mrs. Briggs had mentioned that floor was closed, but even if the nursery was unavailable, why would Lord Darlington’s niece sleep in a room connected to his apartments? A room that wasn’t, Cecilia now noticed, intended as a bedchamber at all. It looked more likea sitting room.
It was a strange arrangement, but she didn’t have time to ponder it just now. She turned back to the little girl, who was still waiting by her bed, one little foot resting on top of the other. “Now then, Lady Isabella, do you have a favorite frock?”
