The Tattered Heiress by Debra Hyde

Author:Debra Hyde
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Riverdale Avenue Books

Chapter Sixteen

December 1880: The Executor

The peace that pleasure brings saw me through the night in a slumber so deep that Phoebe had to shake me awake the next morning. I rose, sitting up in bed where, next to me, a breakfast awaited my attention. Phoebe stood at the window furthest from me, her arms raised and hands ready to pull them open. “Go ahead,” I said. “I’m ready.” Bright morning sun streamed into the room, bathing Phoebe in a golden aura. At a distance, she looked beautiful, like some nymph warming to the first day of spring. Then a rattle of wind at the window sash reminded me that we had yet to see the depth of winter.

Without a word, Phoebe went to my wardrobe for a charcoal grey dress, its trim and ruffles in maroon. Laying it aside, she opened the wardrobe drawer where I kept my winter stockings and selected a pair. So Charlotte had already made plans for the day, and when Phoebe turned away from the wardrobe and came to me, one look at her and I knew Charlotte was in one of her impossible moods.

A shy, conscientious girl, Phoebe only wanted to do her job in peace and, generally speaking, she was quite adept at it, seeing well to all my needs and assisting Mr. East in many of his. But Charlotte and I baffled her—she had often glimpsed hints of our far-more-than-sisterly ways—and Charlotte, of course, could be nearly terrifying. The tension in her face said it was the latter that upset the balance of her morning.

“Is she pacing the floor?” I asked. It seemed a kind way to let Phoebe know of my sympathies.

“No, ma’am, but she can barely get through her morning papers without you.” Phoebe poured my morning tea for me—except it was coffee. Coffee!

“Good Lord! It seems she’s ordering us both around.”

“Ma’am?”

I raised my cup. “Coffee. Something I would never choose for myself first thing in the morning. Charlotte, however, would fill me to the brim with the stuff if she thought it would bring me up to her pace. She certainly wants me to make an effort of it this morning.”

I winked at the girl, bringing her in on my jest and was rewarded with a giggle, albeit shielded by a hand to her mouth in trained daintiness. Someday, I would have Phoebe lose her fear of Charlotte, and perhaps a moment as my confidante might help her along.

I did my best to down the coffee and consume the breakfast before me—Charlotte and I would be on the move today, our next meal hours away. Phoebe saw me into my dress, telling me that while the day was seasonable, occasional gusts of wind would chill one to the bone in no time. Thinking of the rattling window, I asked her to fetch my muff and matching hat.

Charlotte awaited me in the parlor. Giving up the pretense of patience, she was finally pacing the room—and I saw I had not accurately guessed the source of Phoebe’s confusion.

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