Page 22 of The Paid Companion

“Yes, well, I will be happy to do my best with the introductions, but what of theclothes,man? I promise you that is a very crucial aspect of this thing.”

Arthur shrugged. “I’m sure Miss Lodge can handle the clothes.”

Such unshakable confidence in another person, let alone in a lady, was most unlike Arthur, Bennett thought, intrigued. When it came to carrying out his labyrinthine schemes, he rarely reposed such complete confidence in anyone, male or female.

Bennett counted himself one of those few whom Arthur did trust, and now, it seemed, Miss Lodge had been added to that very short list. How interesting.

“Well, what of the social aspect?” Bennett persisted. “You know how treacherous the waters are in a fashionable ballroom. If Miss Lodge is seen talking to the wrong person, it will destroy the impression that you are trying to make. It will be worse yet if she dances with the wrong man or goes out into the gardens with him. Very young ladies are protected by their mamas or a skilled chaperone, but from what you’ve told me, Miss Lodge will have no one to hover over her.”

“That is not quite correct, Bennett.” Arthur smiled slightly. “I intend that she will have you to hover over her.”

Bennett uttered a heartfelt groan and closed his eyes. “I was afraid that you were going to say something like that.”

9

The following morning Elenora surveyed her bedchamber, her hands on her hips, one toe tapping.

The dark, somber furnishings included an ornately carved wardrobe, a massive, heavily draped bed and a dark, dingy carpet. The wallpaper was from an earlier era when lush, exotic patterns had been the height of fashion. Unfortunately the colors had faded to the point where it was impossible to make out the twining vines and flowers.

The degree of cleanliness in this room was of a piece with what she had seen throughout the mansion. Only a minimum of dusting, sweeping and polishing had been done. There was a thick layer of grime on the frame of the octagonal mirror and on the headboard. The cloudy view through the window was evidence that no one had washed the panes in recent memory.

If she was going to be living here for the next few weeks she would have to do something about the deplorable condition of the household, she decided.

Opening the door, she let herself out into the gloomy hall. She was not looking forward to breakfast. The evening meal the night before had consisted of tasteless stewed chicken, dumplings that could have served as ballast for a ship, vegetables cooked to an unwholesome shade of gray and a boiled suet pudding.

She and Margaret had dined alone together in the somber dining room. Arthur had had the good sense to take himself off to his club. She did not blame him. She would have preferred to dine elsewhere, also.

She descended the stairs, noting the dust that had collected between the balusters, and went in search of the breakfast room. She wandered into two closed, curtained chambers filled with draped furniture before she chanced upon Ned.

“Good morning,” she said. “Will you kindly direct me to the breakfast room?”

Ned looked baffled. “I think it’s somewhere at the end of the hall, ma’am.”

She raised her brows. “You don’t know where the breakfast room is located?”

Ned reddened and started to stammer. “Beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am, but it hasn’t been used in all the time that I’ve been working here.”

“I see.” She possessed herself in patience. “In that case, where will I find breakfast this morning?”

“In the dining room, ma’am.”

“Very well. Thank you, Ned.”

She went down another passage and walked into the dining room. She was somewhat surprised to see Arthur seated at the end of the very long table.

He glanced up from the newspaper that was open in front of him, frowning slightly as though he did not quite know what to make of her there at that hour.

“Elenora.” He rose to his feet. “Good day to you.”

“Good day to you, sir.”

The door that led to the pantry swung open. Sally appeared looking even more frazzled and anxious than she had the day before. Her forehead glistened with perspiration. Long tendrils of hair had escaped her yellowed cap. She stared at Elenora and wiped her hands on a badly stained apron.

“Ma’am,” she said, making an awkward curtsy. “Didn’t know you would be coming down for breakfast.”

“I noticed,” Elenora said. She nodded meaningfully toward the long table.

The maid rushed to the sideboard and yanked open a drawer.

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