Page 37 of Lady Controversial
Happily the roof repair had proved relatively easy to effect, and the man had grudgingly earned the rest of his fee by making a poor job of whitewashing the inside walls. It would suffice and was a vast improvement, although Isolda knew that damp would seep through again before the winter was over. At least the chimney had been swept, some of Isolda’s logs had been put to good use, and a roaring blaze made shadows dance across the ceiling. The advantages of such a small room soon became apparent when, for the first time since taking occupation of Rose Cottage, Isolda felt mercifully warm.
‘You will be as cosy as you like in here,’ Mrs Compton said as she helped Isolda to remove dust sheets from the furniture. Furniture that Isolda hadn’t dared to look at before now. It hadn’t seemed worth upsetting herself about its condition when the room was uninhabitable. ‘Hmm, the mice have been at this stuffing, but that can be rectified. And the rest of it is quite good quality.’
Isolda ran her finger through a thick layer of dust coating the surface of a solid oak sideboard and was obliged to agree. ‘This will polish up well, if the woodworm hasn’t got to it.’
‘What did his lordship really want?’ Mrs Compton asked, as she and Isolda set to with polishing cloths. ‘I cannot persuade myself that he called in the hope of seeing Jane.’
Isolda pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes with the back of her hand and smiled. ‘He did not, although Jane will never accept the fact. Actually, he’s as keen as I am to get to the bottom of Lord Brooke’s shenanigans.’ She went on to explain the circumstances that had turned them into enemies.
‘His lordship thinks Brooke would go so far as to try and encroach on his estate?’ Mrs Compton looked highly sceptical. ‘I’ve never liked or approved of Brooke, but I’ve never thought he was quite that stupid either.’
‘No, I agree with you, Mrs C. There has to be more to it than that. Besides, he can hardly encroach upon Lord Finchdean’s privacy since he has hundreds of acres in which to hide himself away.’
‘Even so, knowing his nemesis is living on his doorstep, so to speak, would irk him, especially given what you’ve just told me about Brooke trying to elope with Lord Finchdean’s sister.’ Mrs Compton shook her head, setting the ribbons on her cap dancing. ‘Such wickedness. Elopements are all well and good when a young couple let passion overcome common sense. Almost romantic, one might say. But to use a lass’s infatuation simply to settle a score with her brother is a sin against God.’ Mrs Compton crossed herself and reapplied herself to her polishing with fresh vigour.
They were joined by Gladys and the three women worked in quiet harmony for the rest of the morning, gradually bringing the small parlour back to life.
‘I’ll fetch those cushions you brought with you from Crawley Place, lamb,’ Mrs Compton said, standing back with her fists planted on her hips and nodding in satisfaction as she admired their handiwork. Everything now gleamed and the smell of beeswax polish permeated the air. A few hours of hard labour, from which Jane had absented herself, had brought the little room back to life. ‘A splash of colour is all that’s needed. Well, that and some new stuffing and a few repairs with a needle to some of those seats, but we’ll get that done soon enough.’
‘We have done enough for today, Mrs C,’ Isolda replied, cautiously lowering herself into one of the less damaged chairs and sighing with satisfaction at a job well done. She had forgotten how it felt to be warm and revelled in the simple pleasure of a decent fire.
‘You stay where you are lamb,’ Mrs Compton said. ‘I have some soup and crusty bread almost ready. I’ll bring it to you in here in a few minutes.’
Left alone, Isolda felt her eyelids drooping. She had slept badly the previous night, her rest invaded by images of Lord Finchdean’s compelling features andthatkiss. She was still unable to account for his instigating what could have been construed as a liberty, even though it hadn’t felt like one. Quite the contrary, it had been blissful and very educational. She could almost understand what all the fuss was about, given the warm glow that had suffused her body, awakening every nerve ending and sending shivers of awareness streaking through her.
He was assured of her cooperation anyway when it came to besting the odious Lord Brooke, so he needn’t feel compelled to use his charm to aid his cause. Nor was he an opportunist, she sensed. She shook her head as sleep claimed her, at a loss to explain it but unable to regret the incident.
The enticing smell of Mrs Compton’s vegetable soup woke Isolda and she was able to do justice to her makeshift meal. It felt decadent, sitting in front of a roaring fire and drinking soup but she felt she had earned the right to a brief respite. Jane joined her, yawning, just as Mrs Compton was clearing away.
‘I will have some of that,’ Jane said. ‘I missed breakfast.’
‘Then go into the kitchen and help yourself,’ Isolda snapped.
‘Why should I?’ Jane asked belligerently. ‘You have been waited on.’
‘Your sister has been working to restore this room, in case it has escaped your notice,’ Mrs Compton said, nudging the door open with her ample hip and leaving the room with tray in hand.
‘It looks better, but it’s still a hovel,’ Jane said, flouncing into a chair, then shrieking and jumping up again when stuffing spilled out of the cushion and a rogue spring attacked her derriere. ‘Heavens, are there mice in there?’
‘Probably,’ Isolda said, covering her mouth but failing to contain her laughter. ‘I doubt they’ll harm you.’
Brutus, stretched full length in front of the fire, lifted his head, sniffed the air and barked, as though in agreement.
To her credit, Jane’s mood underwent one of its lightning changes and she laughed at the dog’s antics along with Isolda. Life had dealt them a cruel hand, but Isolda often wondered why her sister couldn’t accept their circumstances and smile more often. She could be surprisingly good company when she stopped complaining and made the best of things. Her character was too much like their Papa’s for her ever to be content, though. He turned sullen and uncommunicative when things did not go his way and his tendency to blame others for his travails had been inherited by his younger daughter.
Jane wandered into the kitchen to find her own luncheon when she eventually realised that no one intended to serve her. She had only just returned to sit with Isolda and had actually agreed to help repair the damaged cushions without having to be cajoled into it when the sound of carriage wheels had her abandoning her needle and running to the window.
‘I expect the earl has returned to see me at a more fashionable hour!’ she cried, pressing her nose against the glass. ‘Oh no. It’s our aunt. I did not expect her to come here. She will be appalled by our living conditions. Even so, it will be nice to see her and to hear the latest news from London. I just wish it could have been the earl.’
Isolda wasn’t surprised at the visit and steeled herself for what she knew would be a difficult confrontation. Her calling so soon after Lord Brooke could not be a coincidence and she was more curious than ever to discover what had persuaded them to join forces.
Were they kindred spirits with a common goal?
Possibly. Isolda knew that Lord Brooke was desperate to acquire Rose Cottage, but what possible reason could their aunt have for aiding his cause? Was she really so malevolently inclined that she wished to see Isolda homeless? That made no sense, since she would be obliged as Isolda’s only living relative to offer her niece a home—an offer that would be at least as distasteful for Lady Bellingham as it would be for Isolda herself.
With a sigh, Isolda stood and went to the door to admit their aunt in person.
‘Oh my, this is far worse than I even imagined,’ Lady Bellingham said, lifting her nose and giving the air a suspicious sniff as she sailed past Isolda without touching her. She did not enquire after her health or express pleasure at seeing her. At least she was no hypocrite. That being the case, Isolda saw no reason to observe the usual courtesies herself and merely inclined her head by way of greeting.
