A Lady at Willowgrove Hall by Sarah E. Ladd

Author:Sarah E. Ladd
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2014-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

“I suppose. But that was my husband’s way.” She accepted the tea with shaking hands and then kept her eyes on Silas as she watched him saunter across the lawn. “When he developed a fondness for someone, he was loyal. Loyal to a fault, I used to tell him. Once he struck a bond or promise, he would never go back on his word. It was a fault he had, and don’t you say otherwise.”

Cecily frowned. “I do not see how that could be a fault.”

Mrs. Trent lifted the teacup to her lips before responding. “I loved my husband. Make no mistake. And would never speak ill of him. But he allowed himself to be swayed, to be taken advantage of.”

Cecily stood and poured herself a cup of tea into a delicate teacup and added a lump of sugar. “I suppose I can see how that could happen.”

“It can happen, Miss Faire, and it did.” Mrs. Trent’s eyes widened. “He’s been gone six years now, and this estate is still darkened by such alliances.”

Cecily wondered what Mrs. Trent was inferring, but thought it best not to linger on it. “Fortunately, there is always hope for fresh beginnings.”

“When you reach my age, I fear hoping for change diminishes. But I imagine once I die, all will be vastly altered at Willowgrove.”

Cecily was not completely sure what Mrs. Trent meant, but she did not like talking about death. It opened up too many questions. She forced a smile. “Well, I think you need to stop with all this talk of death. You are going to live a long time.”

Mrs. Trent patted Cecily’s hand, as if amused by the idea. “Foolish girl.”

“No, in all earnestness!” Cecily said. “Come, it’s early. What do you say to a walk in the garden before services?”

The older woman laughed. “My dear child, I haven’t been on a walk to the gardens in months.”

“Then it is time, is it not? It will be short. The clouds are clearing and the weather is fine, and we will walk down, select some fresh roses for your vase over there, and then return in a quarter of an hour. A beautiful way to greet the morning.”

A flush of color tinted the woman’s withered cheek. “You may need to help me.”

Cecily smiled. “That is why I am here.”

“I’ll call for Clarkson to help me dress—”

“There is no need for that. I can—”

But the woman’s sharp words cut her off. “No. Clarkson dresses me.”

The woman’s tone changed in an instant.

Cecily nodded. She stepped away from the wardrobe, feeling like a scolded child, and pulled the bell cord. She lowered her hands to her sides. She was quickly learning that Mrs. Trent was very particular about certain things, and her dressing routine was one of them.

Within moments Clarkson was at the door. Cecily stood by as the lady’s maid quickly set the woman’s stays and arranged her petticoats and gown. She adjusted her fichu just so, applied rouge and powder to her face, and dressed her hair in a chignon.

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