The Perfect Mistress (9 page)

“Good?” Eleanor huffed. “That’s a rather rude thing to say to an old woman.”

“I don’t mean it to be but it will make things easier.”

“Ah, then now we have come to the matter of some importance.” Eleanor folded her hands on her book and beamed. “This is exciting.”

“Shall I fetch Mrs. Philpot? This concerns her as well.”

“Harriet,” she called, then lowered her voice. “She’s right outside the door, you know.”

Mrs. Philpot appeared at once.

Eleanor waved her to the nearby settee. “Julia has a matter of some importance to discuss.”

“So I hear,” Mrs. Philpot said wryly and took her seat. “Go on, girl.”

Julia paused to choose the right words. “I know when William died I asked you to come to live with me in London and you refused.”

“She didn’t want to be a burden,” Mrs. Philpot said.

Eleanor heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“I do not consider you a burden,” Julia said. “However, the state of my finances is not good. I have taken certain steps but they are speculative at best. While I may be able to support two households if all goes well, I cannot guarantee that. Therefore it is time, past time really, for you to reside with me in London.”

Eleanor studied her thoughtfully. “Are you saying I would be more of a burden here than I would in London?”

“Yes, and no.” Julia searched for the right words. “I’m saying my finances are such that it is time to do what I have wanted to do for a long time.” She took the older woman’s hand. “You are all the family I have and I would rather like to talk to you every day, even if all we talk about is the weather. I know this is your home—”

“My home, dear child”—Eleanor cast her a brilliant smile—“should be with my family.” She glanced at Mrs. Philpot. “It’s time I think.”

“Past time,” Mrs. Philpot said. “Past time as well to tell her everything.”

Eleanor cast the housekeeper a quelling glance. “I think not.”

“She thinks you’re mad.”

“Not at all,” Julia said quickly.

“She’s as sane as I am,” Mrs. Philpot said.

“Oh, that’s a ringing endorsement,” Eleanor said under her breath.

“She simply likes people to think she’s mad so that they leave her alone. Your mother got the idea in her head that she was addle-brained and Lady Everett did not do anything to dissuade her.” Mrs. Philpot huffed. “She didn’t come here because her family wanted to hide her away but because she wanted to hide from the rest of the world.”

Eleanor glared. “And I have done a fine job of it.”

“Too fine.” Mrs. Philpot’s tone softened. “My dear friend, it is not too late to pick up the pieces of your life. Even at your age, you can begin anew.”

Eleanor sighed. “I admit, I have been something of a coward.”

“You have wasted a great deal of time,” Mrs. Philpot said sternly.

Eleanor met her friend’s gaze. “You really don’t think it’s too late?”

Mrs. Philpot snorted. “You’re not dead yet.”

Eleanor shook her head. “But most everyone I know is. Still, I suspect there are a few hardy, lingering souls about.”

“Grandmother.” For the first time, Eleanor did not correct her. “Is this true?”

“I do hope so. Surely, everyone I once knew is not dead.”

“Not about that.” Julia drew her brows together. “About you allowing people to believe you’re mad.”

“Madness, like beauty, is often in the eye of the beholder. I have allowed people to see what they expected to see,” Eleanor said with a dismissive shrug. She nodded toward the housekeeper. “Harriet, we should begin packing at once.”

Julia stared. “That’s it then? You’ll come to live with me?”

“It’s been a long time since I have so much as stepped foot on the streets of London. I admit, it’s something of a frightening prospect. Still …” Eleanor smiled. “I should hate to end my days knowing my spirit remained weak and insipid to the very end.” She thought for a moment. “I would think that’s the kind of thing that would haunt you even after death.” She shook her head. “And I, for one, should very much like to rest in peace after I’m gone.”

Julia turned toward the housekeeper. “Mrs. Philpot?”

Mrs. Philpot shook her head. “I shan’t be coming with you.”

Eleanor smiled a sad sort of smile. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

“My sons and their families are here. They’ve talked about me coming to live with them for a long while.” Mrs. Philpot’s lips twitched as if she held back a smile. “I suspect they just want me for my scones.”

“As do we all,” Eleanor teased, and Julia realized these women were as close as sisters. And, in truth, hadn’t Mrs. Philpot been her grandmother’s family? Once again, anger at her mother and regret for all the lost years washed through her.

Eleanor met her friend’s gaze. “You’ll be all right then?”

“Of course I will,” Mrs. Philpot scoffed, but Julia was certain parting would be difficult for both women. She rose to her feet. “It’s time for tea.”

“And scones, if you please.” Mrs. Philpot left the parlor and Eleanor sighed. “I shall miss her scones.”

“My cook makes excellent scones,” Julia lied.

Eleanor drew a deep breath. “When shall I come?”

“As soon as you wish.”

“I have my affairs to put in order here. Oh, nothing of true significance really. I do think, however, or rather, I should like …” Eleanor began, excitement sounding in her voice.

Mrs. Philpot returned within a few minutes with the tea and Julia could scarcely get a word in. The two older ladies discussed what needed to be accomplished before anyone could move anywhere, her grandmother with an animation Julia had never seen before and the usually forbidding Mrs. Philpot perilously close to enthusiastic.

Regret washed through Julia. Not only because she hadn’t known this lady in her childhood, but because she hadn’t taken matters into her own hands years ago and insisted Eleanor come live with her. Now, Julia noted she was very nearly as excited as the older women. If truth were told, in spite of the companionship of her friends, her life was more than a little lonely.

By the time Julia prepared to take her leave it was decided that it was foolish for her to return simply to fetch Eleanor. They agreed that Eleanor would travel to London, escorted by one of Mrs. Philpot’s sons, as soon as arrangements could be made.

“Very well then,” Julia said, rising to her feet. “I shall see you soon.”

“Sooner than you expect, perhaps.” Eleanor beamed. “My clothes are long out of fashion and I may decide not to bring them with me, which would eliminate a great deal of packing. I would much rather acquire an entirely new wardrobe in London.”

Julia winced. “Eleanor, there really isn’t money for an entirely new wardrobe. A gown or two perhaps.”

“Nonsense. We can sell my treasures,” Eleanor said blithely. “Our treasures really. They are as much yours as they are mine.”

Julia glanced at Mrs. Philpot who rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. Eleanor had been talking about her treasures since Julia’s long-ago first visit. “Of course we can. Still, the market for treasures may not be as we hope.”

“No, I suppose not.” Eleanor sighed, then her expression brightened. “I know.” She rose to her feet and hurried out of the room.

“They’re pretty enough but not worth anything.” Mrs. Philpot shook her head. “She told me years ago they were of no value. Nothing but paste. Copies her mother had made.”

Eleanor returned, her hand fisted in front of her. “Hold out your hand, dear.”

Julia dutifully held out her hand and Eleanor dropped a gold chain bearing a large pendant. Julia turned the pendant over in her hand and caught her breath. She didn’t know a great deal about jewelry but this looked to be a lovely copy of a brilliant green stone, perhaps an emerald. Pity it wasn’t real.

“Take that to a jeweler’s, dear, and find out what it’s worth.”

“I’ll do just that.” Julia slipped the necklace into her bag.

“I really do need new clothes.” Eleanor beamed. “And hats. Oh, I do love hats.”

“Then we shall purchase new hats for you,” Julia said, vowing somehow to scrape together enough for a minimal wardrobe. She bent to kiss the older woman’s cheek. “I shall see you soon.”

Eleanor cast her a brilliant smile. “We shall have a grand time.”

“Indeed we shall.” Julia smiled and opened the door. She would have to hurry if she was to make the next train back to London. She was to meet Veronica at Fenwick’s in a few hours.

“Julia.” Eleanor stepped closer and lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “About the madness …”

Julia shook her head. “There’s nothing more you need to say.”

“Oh, but I do.” Eleanor paused. “To say I hear voices is not entirely accurate.”

“That is good to know.”

“I only hear one and she is most persistent.” Eleanor held her breath. “Do you mind terribly?”

“Well, as long as it’s just one,” Julia said somberly. “We simply don’t have room for an entire chorus. My house is not nearly large enough.”

Eleanor studied her carefully. “You’re teasing me.” She smiled. “I like that. Now, be off with you and I shall see you soon.” She nodded and turned to close the door.

“Did you tell her the voice belongs to a dead wo—” Mrs. Philpot’s voice was cut off by the solid wooden door and Julia nearly stumbled.

What on earth? Surely her grandmother didn’t … she couldn’t possibly …

Julia drew a steadying breath and started off at a brisk pace. Time enough when her grandmother came to London to discuss whose voice she did or didn’t hear. And exactly what that meant. Now she had a train to catch.

Julia had done a fine job thus far today of putting the question of whether Hermione was a ghost or a dream out of her head, even if it was never far from her thoughts. With any luck, Veronica would be able to confirm whether the secret Julia had been told was legitimate or just a product of her own far-fetched imagination.

If indeed Eleanor wasn’t mad, Julia had no doubt as to whose voice she heard. And if this secret was true, well, she wasn’t entirely sure which was worse.

To be truly mad or merely haunted.

• • *
    

“And how was your grandmother?” Veronica asked with a smile and sipped her tea.

Julia had arrived at Fenwick’s a few minutes early and had impatiently waited for her friend. But once Veronica had arrived, Julia couldn’t seem to find the right words. This was not the kind of question one simply blurted out. Of course, it wasn’t the kind of thing that effortlessly slid into the conversation either.

“Very well actually. She has apparently only been feigning madness all these years, for the most part.” Although there was that one voice. “She did agree to come to London to live with me.”

“It’s about time.” Veronica shook her head in a chastising manner. “You should have insisted on this long ago. Why, if it was my grandmother—”

“You have known your grandmother all of your life whereas I have only known mine for a few years. If only …” Julia caught herself. “It scarcely matters. The past is over and done with.”

“The past is always with us.”

“In more ways than you know,” Julia said under her breath.

“Take as an example, oh, I don’t know, your great-grandmother’s past,” Veronica said casually. “That certainly is still with us.”

Julia stared at her for a moment then laughed. “I should have known you would go directly to Lord Mount-dale.”

“He is family …” Veronica studied her cautiously. “You’re not angry with me then?”

“Not at all.”

“Good.” Veronica heaved a sigh of relief. “I must confess, I felt somewhat torn. Loyalty to you versus loyalty to Charles’s family. Although I really didn’t think one precluded the other as I do want what’s best for everyone.” She paused. “Harrison mentioned he’s willing to increase his offer.”

“Is he?” Julia asked in an offhand manner and sipped her tea. “And does he still intend to destroy the manuscript?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Then I have nothing to discuss with him.” In truth, his lordship’s desire to destroy Hermione’s manuscript was little more than an excuse to refuse to have anything to do with him. Still, she might come to a point when she had to accept his offer. It was very lucrative after all. If only he wasn’t so infuriating.

“I see.” Veronica sipped her tea. “Oh, by the way, I have decided to have a small dinner party next week. I do hope you can come.”

“I should check my calendar,” Julia said in a serious manner then laughed. “If I had one. I daresay if I did, there would be nothing of importance on it.”

“Then you’ll come?”

Julia nodded. “I shall be delighted.”

“You hardly ever accept my invitations, you know. You won’t change your mind?”

Julia stared at her friend. “No, I assure you I will be there.”

“Promise?”

“Whatever is the matter with you?”

“Promise you will attend my party.”

“Very well, I promise.” She sighed.

“Excellent.” Veronica smiled with satisfaction.

“Now, tell me about this party and why are you so insistent I attend.”

“You never go anywhere, really. You’ve only been to my parties when I’ve forced you to attend. You never meet anyone new.” Veronica shook her head. “You should get out more.”

“I never have anywhere to go.”

“And now you do,” Veronica said simply.

Julia studied her suspiciously.

“You needn’t look at me like that. This is just a small gathering really. Just a few … people.”

Julia raised a brow. “By ‘people,’ do you mean eligible men perhaps? If you intend to throw marriageable men in my path as Portia’s family has been doing—”

“I wouldn’t think of such a thing.” Veronica’s brows drew together. “Not that it isn’t a good idea, and certainly I will have some eligible men in attendance. I am inviting both you and Portia after all and I do so hate it when the numbers aren’t even.” Veronica drew a deep breath. “And Harrison will be there.”

“Then perhaps you should redefine ‘people,’” Julia said wryly.

“He realizes, when he called on you, he might have been a bit of a—”

“Vile, sanctimonious, beast?” Julia smiled pleasantly.