Page 101 of Love in a Mist
A footman had seen to the portmanteau they all shared, no doubt confused that there was only one but too well trained to say a word. Aldric had taken only a couple of steps up the staircase when a voice interrupted.
“You weren’t expected back for a little while yet. Was France not to your liking?” Aldric’s older brother, Crofton, now the Duke of Hartley, stood in the doorway of what Céleste remembered to be the drawing room.
Aldric watched his brother with clear confusion and obvious displeasure. “What brings you to Norwood Manor?”
“I like to look in on all my estates,” Crofton said with a smirk of satisfaction.
Norwood was Aldric’s home, but it did technically belong to the Duke of Hartley.
A little boy, likely about eight years old, peeked out from behind Crofton. His eyes lit with excitement. “Uncle Aldric!” He darted past his father and threw himself against his uncle’s legs, precisely as Adèle so often did. Aldric hunched down in front of the boy, without letting go of Adèle’s hand, and smiled broadly at him. “Roderick. I have not seen you in ages.”
“Did you miss me?” the boy asked.
“Always.”
Roderick wrapped his arms around his uncle’s neck. Adèle leaned against Aldric, and he set his arm around her.
Céleste had to look away. This was the sweet, kindhearted, caring Aldric who had so thoroughly captured what little bit of her heart hadn’t already been his. These were the moments that let her imagine tender interactions like this spilling into the future, both of them leaving behind the difficult families they were born to.
A gentleman accompanying his friend’s sister.
“Where is the rest of your party?” Crofton asked, eyeing Céleste with a look of suspicion she didn’t care for at all.
“Mrs. Sommers has been with us and will remain with us until the Greenberrys arrive, which should be very soon.”
Crofton looked disappointed to hear that the proprieties had been seen to. It did not speak well of his character. But it also was testament to how wise Aldric was to have made these arrangements.
“It would be helpful, Aldric, if in the future you informed the staff of whatever home you’re staying in that you have invited visitors. It’s ratherthoughtless not to give them warning.” Crofton spun about and returned to the drawing room in a huff.
Aldric’s attention was entirely on the children once more. “Adèle will be staying in the nursery while she’s here,” he said to Roderick. “And I’m certain she doesn’t remember where it is, having been so tiny when she last visited.”
“I’m staying in the nursery too,” Roderick said.
“Let’s show her.” Aldric stood and offered his free hand to Roderick. He walked up the stairs, each hand held by one of the little children. Roderick excitedly told them both all about the nursery, though he did so in English, and Adèle wouldn’t understand a word.
Céleste stood at the base of the staircase. She watched them climb ever higher and ever farther away.
Only Mrs. Sommers remained. Céleste turned to her with as content an expression as she could manage. “Please, see yourself settled and have something to eat.” It was odd speaking in English even after having done so when talking with Mrs. Sommers for two days. “I’m certain I’ll be shown to whatever room I’m meant to use, and I’ll stay there until supper.”
Mrs. Sommers nodded and left with a maid.
Céleste looked around the empty space, unsure what she was meant to do. The housekeeper, who would usually have shown a guest to whatever room they were meant to use, had disappeared when Crofton had made his appearance. The maid who accompanied Mrs. Sommers had only been passing by as a matter of coincidence. There was no one left.
I can sort things out on my own.She’d done so before.
She tightened her grip on the handle of her violin case and climbed the stairs. She remembered how to reach the room she had used during the house party two years earlier. She would simply go back there. If her assumption proved erroneous, she could move to whichever room she was assigned.
The room she returned to seemed well enough prepared for a visitor, making hers a good guess. She didn’t know where their portmanteau had been taken, but it wasn’t this room. Likely it’d be placed in Aldric’s, he being the master of the house. But that meant she didn’t have a comb. She did her best with her fingers and the few hairpins she still had. Without a change of clothes, she would look quite a sight sitting at a fine table, even if she managed to salvage her hair.
No one came by to look in on her or tell her she was in the wrong place. By the time she arrived in the drawing room in anticipation of supper,she’d begun to wonder if anyone remembered she was there. But the Benick brothers were in the room already.
Crofton had changed for dinner. So had Aldric. He, of course, had a great deal of clothing here at his house. He clearly had a comb, as his hair was not the finger-tousled mess that hers was.
Heavens, she felt awkwardly out of place.
They were soon situated at a finely laid table, the largest and most sophisticated offering of food she and Aldric had received in quite some time. She was hungry yet somehow had very little appetite. That was what came of wallowing in one’s emotions. She needed to sort herself out and quit worrying over what might have been and what could be and what she impossibly longed for.
She found her voice once more after the second remove and spoke up during a brief respite from Crofton’s recounting of all the incredibly important people he’d seen in London. “I mean to send a letter to Eu Plate. The Beaumonts very kindly allowed me to stay with them when I was last in England, and I’m hopeful they will do so again.” For a moment she wasn’t certain if she’d spoken in French or English. Her companions spoke both languages, so it didn’t overly matter. She simply didn’t like feeling so unsure of herself. “That will allow Mrs. Sommers to return home even if it takes the Greenberrys another day or two to arrive.”
