Cinders & Sapphires (13 page)

“Some post for you, Ada,” said Lord Westlake, placing a letter and a parcel beside her. He took his seat next to Fiona and began opening his own post.

Ada eagerly looked at the post. But one glance told her that neither the letter nor the parcel was from Ravi. The letter was addressed in Georgiana’s sprawling hand. She put that aside to enjoy reading later on in her room. The parcel was addressed in unfamiliar, ladylike handwriting. She picked up the pearl-handled letter opener and cut the string and unwrapped it.

Inside was a book:
Woman and Labour
. Ada glanced up nervously, but her father didn’t seem to have seen it. He was engrossed in his own post. She opened the book and a note fell out, written on mauve paper and folded once. She opened it and read.

Dear Ada,

Here is the book I promised you. Please forgive the delay! I also have good news—and a suggestion. I mentioned you to Miss Gorman, the mistress of Somerville College, and she said she would be pleased to meet you and discuss the possibility of coming here. Now, she is a dragon, as I am not sure I mentioned, but for her to show so much interest in a girl she hasn’t even met must mean something. You really must take this opportunity. And that leads me to my suggestion. Why not come and visit me? You would surely not need a chaperone for such a short visit, and I could show you Oxford. You need not mention to your father that you are visiting Miss Gorman as well. Do say yes! I am dying to show you my rooms—they are modest, but they are my own, and I couldn’t be happier in them.

Yours affectionately,

Emily

Ada hardly had time to feel excited when Fiona, who had been reading through her own post, exclaimed, “At last!”

Ada looked up, startled. Fiona was beaming, and she passed the note she was reading to Lord Westlake. Lord Westlake put down his knife and fork and read it. Ada caught Charlotte’s eye. For once Ada, thought, they had something in common. Charlotte was clearly as much in the dark as she was.

“Didn’t I tell you I could arrange it?” Fiona said proudly.

“You did indeed, and you’re a marvel!” Lord Westlake said, his eyes gleaming. He put the letter down and placed his hand on Fiona’s affectionately.

“What is it?” Ada said, and Charlotte echoed her.

“Mother, what have you arranged?”

“An invitation to dinner with the Wellingboroughs, my dear,” Fiona announced smugly.

“The Wellingboroughs?” Charlotte frowned. “You don’t mean that dreadfully dull political couple, do you?”

“Sir Henry Wellingborough is the foreign secretary,” Ada said, a smile breaking over her face as she realized what this meant for her father’s career. “Papa, that’s wonderful, that means you must be in line for a big appointment.”

“We can only hope, my dear,” said her father, although his smile betrayed that he did more than hope.

“I have every confidence that it’s the beginning of great things,” said Fiona. “You’re too modest, Edward. The truth is that very few people are invited to the Wellingboroughs’ dinners. It is a great honor.”

Fiona and Lord Westlake talked of nothing else throughout breakfast. Charlotte looked bored, and Ada was as happy as she could be. An invitation to Oxford—there would certainly be a chance of seeing Ravi then. If he wanted to see her, of course. She remembered that he had not answered her last letter, and a cloud fell across her happiness.

As her father stood up, he added, “I’m glad they have also invited Douglas Varley. We have a lot to discuss, and I would be glad of the chance to meet him and sort out any”—he hesitated—“misunderstandings.”

“Douglas Varley will be there?” Ada exclaimed. If he was there, then that meant that Ravi might be too.

“Yes.” He glanced at the letter. “Varley; his protégé, the Indian student; Lord Fintan; and several others. It should be an interesting gathering.”

As he left the breakfast room, Ada jumped up and followed him.

“Papa—may I speak to you?”

“Of course, dear.”

She hesitated, not knowing how to open the conversation. Then it came to her. She could use Lord Fintan as an excuse.

“I would very much like to go to the Welling-boroughs’ dinner also, if it could be arranged.”

“You?” He frowned. “I thought I told you not to trouble yourself with politics.”

“It isn’t that.” She blushed, knowing she was about to lie. “I would very much like to have the opportunity of—of speaking with Lord Fintan. I found him very congenial at the shooting party.”

Her father’s eyebrows rose, but he looked pleased.

“Lord Fintan, eh? Well, I—”

“If Ada is going, I don’t see why I shouldn’t go too.”

Charlotte’s tightly controlled voice made Ada turn around. She was at the door of the breakfast room. Ada was startled. What had happened to make Charlotte suddenly want to attend this political dinner that she had professed to find so boring?

“Well, Mother?” Charlotte was angry, Ada could tell. Suddenly she remembered the glances that had passed between her and Lord Fintan at the shooting party.

Fiona stepped up behind Charlotte, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. “Very well, dear. I don’t see why not. The invitation was open, after all, and they know we are here
en famille
.”

Lord Westlake shrugged. “If you wish it, of course. Fiona will no doubt reply for all of us.”

As Charlotte passed Ada, she shot her a glare that made Ada step back a pace. There was clearly something between Charlotte and Lord Fintan, and she was sorry that she had given the wrong impression. But she couldn’t think of any way of setting it right. It was necessary to use him as an excuse in order to see Ravi again as soon as possible.

The bump on Georgiana’s head had finally subsided, and she was allowed to go outside on her own for the first time. She had been looking forward to curling up on a bench and going on with
Zuleika Dobson.
But her head still ached too much for reading to be enjoyable. Instead, she strolled around the lawns, wondering how Ada was getting on in London. Somerton was just not the same without her sister.

She wandered into the apple orchard and picked a windfall from the ground. Nibbling on it, she went on toward the kitchen garden. It was closed off from her by a gate, but as she approached she saw someone hurry past inside. She stopped, startled. It looked like Michael. And he was holding a bunch of roses clearly culled from one of the gardens.

Georgiana went forward, full of curiosity. What was Michael doing here? The kitchen garden wasn’t precisely forbidden to them, but it was part of the servants’ territory, and it was certainly not encouraged for them to enter it. She sensed that both the gardeners and Mrs. Cliffe would have something to say if they found Michael there. She tried the gate, but it was locked.

“What are you doing?” came a voice from behind her.

She jumped and turned round, her heart beating fast. She saw Philip, his sleeves rolled up and his Eton suit grubby at the knees.

“Philip!” She relaxed. “You scared me.”

“You’re not meant to go in there. I got a telling off from my brother about it.” He made a face. “As if he never broke any rules. I hate William.”

Georgiana sighed. She agreed, but she didn’t think it would do much good to say so. “Well…it’s true that he hasn’t got a very good temper.”

“He’s a bully. I saw him pinch Priya’s arm when he thought no one was looking. And he cuffed me across the head when I told him to stop.”

“That’s horrible.” Georgiana was shocked.

“He is horrible. Anyway, I’m going to go wherever I want. I shan’t let him stop me.” He scowled. “But what are you doing here? If you’re looking for apples, I’ve had all the best ones already.”

“I was just wondering what Michael was doing in the kitchen garden.” Georgiana blushed, but Philip didn’t notice.

“Michael? Is he here too?”

“Yes. I—I wanted to give him a surprise, so I was following him.”

“That sounds like fun,” Philip said, perking up. “Look, if you creep under the hedge you can get through.” He got down on his hands and knees and wriggled under the hedge. “Come on!”

“Oh…” Georgiana thought of her dress and then dismissed it. How dirty could a dress get anyway? And it was far too tempting to find out what Michael was up to. She got down on her hands and knees and wriggled after Philip through the hedge.

Priya walked along the servants’ passage, holding the needle and thread she had gone downstairs for. She had an odd feeling she was being followed. She glanced behind her, but there was no one there.

It was Sunday afternoon, and with much of the family in London, the house felt very quiet. She would never get to like it, she thought. It was too cold and too big and too…too English. She longed for something, some smell or color or sound that would be like home. But there was nothing. Even the post hadn’t brought a letter from her mother, and she was worried. Her father was ill, they had written in the last letter—nothing serious, but she knew they were trying to keep her from worrying.

She glanced to the side again and thought that she saw a shadow move outside the window. Surely it had just been a branch blowing in the wind.

She heard voices from the kitchen as she approached. Hushed whispers, as if the speakers were being careful not to be overheard.

Priya hesitated. The voices were Martha, the scullery maid, and Tobias, the stable boy. She drew near to the kitchen door and looked in. The two were by the fire, a steaming copper kettle was on the range, and they were huddling over something.

Feeling suddenly suspicious, Priya tiptoed forward.

“Not like that, you fool. You’ll soak it.” Tobias leaned over Martha.

“Well, you do it if you’re such an expert!”

She was close now enough to see over their shoulders. Martha held a letter. Tobias was holding the copper underneath it, and the flap of the envelope was crinkling up.

“It looks like a man’s hand, don’t it?” Martha said gleefully.

“I’d say so. Not as innocent as she looks! I reckon Miss Ward will pay a good deal to know about her fancy man.”

“Out on her ear without a reference. I like it.” Martha grinned.

Priya realized what was going on, in a split second of shock.

“That’s not yours!” she exclaimed.

Tobias spun around. Martha jumped and sent the pan of water flying. The fire hissed and steamed.

Priya snatched the letter out of Martha’s hand. At a glance she could see it was addressed to Rose.

“Give that back, or I’ll—” Tobias shouted.

“Don’t you dare threaten me. Or I’ll let Mr. Cooper know what you’ve done.”

Tobias turned pale and glanced at Martha.

“I’m going to take this to Mrs. Cliffe, and you’ll be lucky if I don’t tell her everything.” Priya turned and swept off toward the door, the letter clutched tightly in her hands.

She found Mrs. Cliffe in her parlor.

“This came for Rose, if you please.” She bobbed a curtsy and held out the letter.

Mrs. Cliffe gave the letter a curious glance. Her expression serious, she put it away.

“Thank you, Priya.”

Priya hesitated, wondering if she should mention what she had seen and heard. But it had been so little, and so perplexing. Why should Miss Ward care if Rose had a fancy man? And the last thing Priya wanted was to make enemies of the Somerton servants. She decided to say nothing.

“Ah, Mrs. Cliffe—and Priya.”

Priya whirled round. Her heart beat fast. It was William. He was standing at the door, an unpleasant smile on his face as he looked at her. Priya dropped her eyes at once, feeling sick. William frightened her. He acted jolly, but his manner could change to cruelty in a second. She just did not feel safe around him. It was something in the way he looked at her—there was something very cold and greedy in his eyes.

“Can I help you, sir?” Mrs. Cliffe moved to block his view of Priya. Priya was grateful. She guessed that Mrs. Cliffe did not like William either.

“I simply came down to give some directions to Cooper about the wine for this evening. I’m expecting a few friends to play bridge. But since Priya is here, perhaps she can help me find Cooper. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s no bother at all, sir, and Priya must be getting back to the nursery.” Mrs. Cliffe turned a meaningful gaze on her, and Priya, grateful for the rescue, blurted out, “Yes, Mrs. Cliffe.”

She fled to the door. William stood back, but not quite enough, so she had to squeeze past him to get out. She shuddered at his hot breath on her neck and half walked, half ran down the corridor. She was trembling and her heart was beating fast. On impulse she went out the side door. She needed fresh air, and she couldn’t stand the feeling that he was watching her.

She glanced behind her as she walked through the kitchen garden, just to check that William was not following her. She turned round and almost bumped into Michael Templeton. She started.

“Oh! Sir—I’m sorry—”

“No, it was my fault.” He sounded confused and flustered. “I just—”

He had a bunch of roses in his hand. Priya hardly glanced at them in her haste to put distance between herself and William.

“Excuse me, sir.” She quickly curtsied and hurried on.

She didn’t feel truly calm until she was back in the nursery. Only then did she spare a moment to puzzle over the roses in Michael Templeton’s hand, and the way he had been gazing at her.