Page 69 of A Fearless Heart
“I’m sure everyone’s wondering about me,” Cady said dryly.
“No, ma’am. We just want to make you comfortable.”
“A tray, yes. Obviously, I’m not normal enough to eat in a dining room,” she added bitterly.
“What good is normal, ma’am? Ring if you need anything else. And sleep well.”
After nibbling her way through three crumbly, nutty biscuits, Cady made her way back to bed, blowing out candles along the way. She once again pulled the curtain shut, enveloping herself in darkness. But this time it felt more like a cocoon than a trap.
She nestled beneath the covers. In a way, her attack wasn’t surprising. New surroundings, new people. She probably pushed too far, pretending she was well enough to eat downstairs the very evening she arrived. But it was still mortifying to go to pieces in front of an entirely new staff who didn’t know a thing about her.
Cady had terrible trouble getting anyone to work at Calderwood, but at her London town house suddenly there were people falling all over themselves to do every type of job. On the one hand, she was suspicious of her sudden luck, but on the other, she could barely manage things as they were. She knew that Gabe had pulled some strings to get all these people at the town house in time for her arrival. Cady just wished she knew which strings he’d pulled.
Chapter 25
By the time Cady awoke, hermantel clock was chiming ten. She groaned and pulled aside the curtains blinking in the morning light.
She wasn’t alone in her room. Bond was there as well. Cady saw she’d brought up the breakfast tray, which had replaced the tea tray from last night. Now, however, the lady’s maid was poking through Cady’s things in the dressing room area. Her medicine chest had been moved to a side table.
“What are you doing?” Cady asked Bond.
“Oh, just checking for moths,” she replied. “You have a number of silk gowns and wraps, and if moths get into the clothespress, they’re done for. To say nothing of the woolens!”
“I always make up fresh lavender sachets each year. The smell discourages them.”
“As you say, my lady,” Lucy agreed, piling heaps of gowns on her arms. “But I’ve found that sunlight is even better, which is why I’ll air these in the back. You know, it works for people as well as clothing. A ride in the park later would do your complexion a world of good.”
“Am I too pale for your liking, Bond?”
“Just hate to see the day wasted,” the maid said, neatly avoiding the question. “Jem could take you. He’s an excellent driver. He was driver to Lady Cordelia, Countess of Thornbury. That’s where we met, when I was hired as her lady’s maid.”
“If you’ve worked for a countess, why lower yourself by working for me?”
“Oh she wasn’t a countess when I started,” Bond explained. “She married Lord Thorne. And as for me, well, I’ll go wherever my Jem goes.”
“Ah. You’re married?”
Bond blushed prettily. “Not yet, ma’am. We have an understanding, though. We’re saving up.”
“Very prudent. You’ve been a lady’s maid for a while, then.”
“Years and years. I can do hair, and mend, and I’ve a good eye for fashion. You won’t regret taking me on.”
“You may regret being associated with me,” Cady returned in a low voice. “And I cannot guarantee that your skills will be in much demand. I do not go out, and I do not entertain.”
“Still get dressed every day, I wager,” Bond replied, not at all daunted. “And you’ll have callers.”
She ate toast and tea, and then Bond dressed her in a softly draped day gown in a dark green cotton lawn. Then she did Cady’s hair, pinning it in such a way that waves and curls spilled down without actually getting in Cady’s way when she turned her head. “Very nice, Bond.”
“Thank you, my lady. You’ve got a jet necklace. Mourning?”
“My father passed away some months ago.”
Bond gave a small nod, and put the jet necklace on. It looked well with the green, but Cady still made a face in the mirror. The mourning attirewasgetting dreary.
Downstairs, she’d got a quick tour from the housekeeper, who pointed out where they’d cleaned and what still needed attention. Cady was impressed by how sparkling everything was. For a house that had been all but unlived in for years, it was in fine shape. Like a bulb that had been merely waiting for the right time to push up and bloom.
In the parlor, she’d hardly sat down when Rook leaned in. “My lady, a Mr Gabriel Courtenay is here to see you. Are you at home?”
