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“Would you like me to show you my favorite room?”
“Yes, please.” Mei was not just being polite; she truly was interested in what room would appeal most to the dowager. That she had clearly delighted the older woman was icing on the cake. Despite being married to an awful man, somehow the dowager had kept her kindness and sweetness through all those years, and now she had apparently blossomed upon his death.
Part of Mei wished she’d known the dowager before, so she could have witnessed that blossoming firsthand; another part of her was glad she had not. She could not imagine how terrible it would have been to see this bright, vibrant woman as crimped and beaten down as she must have been when that portrait had been painted.
The Duke of Clarence was one of those whose murder was not difficult to comprehend.
The dowager led her Mei through the house to the very back, pointing out various works of art along the way and answering any questions Mei had about them. She seemed delighted by Mei’s interest as the paintings toward the back of the house had been chosen by her rather than her late husband or his predecessors.
“One day, I would like to acquire some scandalous art pieces,” the dowager confessed gleefully. “Not to put on display to our guests, of course, but because my late husband would be rolling in his grave to know they were in the house at all. Well, if he had not been burned to ashes, he would be. Instead, I suppose I must imagine his ashes spinning.” She made a little motion with her hand that had Mei choking on her laughter.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Her eyes were watering with the effort of not laughing aloud at such a blunt statement, which had been made in such a matter-of-fact tone. Tiffany had mentioned that her mother-in-law sometimes delighted in being outrageous. “Have you heard of the artist A. Stone?”
The dowager’s eyes widened, and her voice lowered to a whisper as they approached a closed door at the end of the hall. “The one who does the male nudes?”
“Yes. There is an exhibition coming to London in a few weeks, and some of them will be on sale,” Mei murmured.
“Oh… oh…” The dowager’s hands fluttered with excitement, then dropped. “But I do not know how I could possibly go see them, much less purchase one of them.”
“I can arrange a private showing if you’d like.” Mei allowed herself a small smile. “I happen to be acquainted with the artist.”
“Oh my… oh my, yes. If you could arrange such a thing, that would be… Oh my.” The dowager giggled, sounding like a young girl. A very delighted younger girl. Which warmed Mei’s heart.
Hopefully, Tiffany and Gregory would forgive her for indulging the dowager in this, but she could not help herself. Not with the memory of that pale, unhappy face in the portrait in contrast with the warm, smiling one in front of her now.
“You must meet so many interesting people in your line of work,” the dowager said, opening the door at the end of the hall. Light bloomed, making Mei blink as the hallway had been rather darker than the room they were entering. It was a corner room with huge windows along two of the walls, letting in an inordinate amount of light.
The room itself was a bright, cheery yellow. Not as bright as the yellow on the dowager’s dress, thankfully. It was a sunny yellow, a warm yellow, that made one’s spirits immediately feel uplifted. The furniture in the room consisted of several chairs and a daybed. There was a small pianoforte in the corner, in case one wished to play or listen to someone else play. A small bookcase was installed beside one of the large window seats, which was covered in cream cushions, with light yellow curtains drawn back on either side of the seat.
“This is my favorite room,” the dowager said, spreading her hands out. “My sanctuary. I rarely visit now, though, as I no longer have need of such a thing. But it was far enough away from the front of the house and my husband that he never ventured back here, and I could do as I pleased in this room.”
The happy way she said it belied how awful it must have been for her to need a refuge. Mei wondered if this room had been the one bright spot in the house back then.
“No one ever comes back here anymore,” the dowager continued, a bit mournfully. “So, I am pleased to be able to show it off.”
“It’s lovely.” Mei turned slowly, taking in every bit of the room. There was a large painting on one of the walls, depicting an actress on a stage in front of a faceless audience. It was dramatic in appearance. A bit shocking, with the amount of décolletage the actress was displaying.
Looking at it, she could understand why some truly scandalous art might appeal to the dowager. Mei would ensure she got her private tour.
“Please feel free to use it anytime,” the dowager said, appearing pleased. “I know these things can be a bit overwhelming. Especially as I believe you are used to attending with your grandmother and working. It might be nice to have your own sanctuary to escape to, away from all our blathering and goings on.”
“That is very appreciated.” Though the first thought that popped into Mei’s mind was not that of refuge, but of her and the duke on the daybed.
Her blasted imagination…
“You know, I always fancied I’d make a good matchmaker,” the dowager said cheerfully, making her way back to the door. “Feel free to make use of the books; it’s my collection of romances. You may enjoy Pride and Prejudice. I would avoid Emma.”
The dowager swept out of the room, leaving Mei standing there, somewhat bemused.
Well.
She was rather curious about the dowager’s book recommendation, and she had nothing else to do, so… Mei made her way to the bookshelf. This refuge would also allow her to decide when she wanted to rejoin the rest of the party, which was also a relief.
26
Sebastian
Drake and Sebastian arrived back at the Clarence estate well before suppertime. They’d not dallied into the afternoon once they’d realized there was nothing there for them to find. They would not be able to advance their cause further until they returned to London.
