“All in good time, my son,” Pernelia answered equitably. She introduced the rest of the family. Lucinda greeted them, noting each carefully in her observant fashion. Edgerton’s wife, Jane, was a plumpish, sweet-looking woman of around forty, dressed in pink. She seemed a nervous little thing, fluttering her hands constantly, blinking her eyes a lot. In bird-like fashion, she gave Lucinda a friendly enough greeting, chirping, “How lovely to meet you.”
Alethea, Edgerton’s daughter, was eighteen or so and pretty, fair, and delicate. She, too, was friendly, although after a murmured, near-unintelligible greeting she shifted her gaze down to her shoes and kept it there.
Edgerton’s son, Charles, a boy of slight built of around ten, resembled his father with his brown eyes and hair. Although he stood and greeted Lucinda in an acceptable manner, a smile never crossed his face. He seemed, in fact, downright sullen, as if he would rather be anyplace but here.
Aunt Pernelia’s daughter, Sarah, was a thin, sullen-looking woman with hardly a word to say. Unmarried, she appeared to be somewhere in her thirties, perhaps five years younger than her brother, Edgerton.
Lucinda noticed that no one seemed overjoyed to see her, nor did anyone express the slightest interest in where she came from or her family.
No one is smiling, no one seems happy
, she thought with increasing dismay. Of course, it might just be her imagination. She should not jump to conclusions.
At dinner, Lucinda found the food
to be superb, so much better than the filling, but unexciting, fare Cook served at home. Here, every course was perfection.
“Umm, what is this? It’s delicious,” Lucinda exclaimed after taking a bite of some sort of fish so tender it seemed to melt in her mouth.
“You don’t know?” Edgerton regarded her as if she had just asked if the sky was blue. With a disdainful curl of his lip, he continued, “Ah, but of course, my dear uncle has neither the inclination or the wherewithal to engage a French cook.” He pointed his fork at her plate. “In this household we observe the principles of haute cuisine. You have heard of Carème?”
“Why, no, I...I don’t think so.”
“Carème is a French cook famous for having transformed cooking into an art and a science. For a time, he was head chef for Talleyrand. Now he is in the employ of the Prince Regent. What you’re eating comes from a menu Carème recently served at Brighton Pavilion, prepared by my own chef, Henri. It is
called Le turbot à l’Anglaise, sauce aux homards
.” Edgerton peered down his nose at her with the utmost disdain. “When you return to your room, you might wish to jot that down for future reference.”
Lucinda felt herself flush, not from embarrassment but from anger. How dare he belittle her father! She opened her mouth to answer Edgerton in the manner he deserved, but before she could, Jane, his wife, forced a little laugh and asked in her fluttery voice, “My, my, Edgerton, who could remember all those French names?” She turned to Lucinda. In an obvious attempt to change to subject, she said, “I have never seen your home, my dear. Tell us what it’s like in Essex.” There was a pleading look in her eye, as if she were begging, please, please don’t make a scene!
Lucinda took a moment to collect herself, grateful Jane had stopped her. Of course she wouldn’t make a scene, especially on her very first night. She pasted a pleasant smile on her face, and though she was sure no one was interested, for the next few minutes described her life in Essex, then her trip to York, and, oh, yes! she remembered that beautiful fairy tale castle. “I passed by the most intriguing mansion, right before I arrived here,” she said. “It’s on a lake and looks as if it once was a castle. Can you tell me who lives there? I would dearly love to—”
“Cease!” commanded Edgerton, his eyes cold with fury.
A dead silence filled the room. Everyone, including the servants, appeared paralyzed. Finally, in a voice cold as ice, Edgerton addressed his wife. “Perhaps you had better inform our guest of the most important rule of this household.”
“Oh, dear,” said Jane in a very small voice. She looked at Lucinda. “We do not ever make reference to...uh, that place that you just now mentioned.”
Lucinda was flabbergasted but tried to act normal. “Of course, then. Well, I certainly won’t,” she answered trying to sound casual.
The silence continued. Finally, in an obvious attempt to bring a return to normalcy, Aunt Pernelia spoke up. “Lucinda and her father go bird watching. She paints birds, too, most beautifully.”
Edgerton’s small mouth pursed slightly in distaste. “Bird watching. Yes, that sounds about right.” He addressed his wife. “At last, an explanation for my uncle’s lack of success in life. He’s too busy watching birds.”
Alethea’s eyes flashed. Lucinda saw life in them for the first time. “Papa, that’s not being nice to our guest,” she said.
Edgerton’s thin lips curved into a wintry smile. “When I want the opinion of an eighteen-year-old snip of a girl I shall ask for it.”
Althea’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Papa,” She lowered her eyes.
Another dead, chill silence filled the room wherein everyone took a sudden and great interest in their plates. Lucinda sat trying to conceal her increasing disgust and apprehension. This was going to be awful, she thought with fearful clarity. She recalled her own family’s dinners where the laughter and conversation never ceased. But here, no one smiled, no one laughed. It was as if everyone was scared to death of that stern martinet who sat at the head of the table. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought her father’s warning could possibly be even close to true. Now, looking back, she marveled at her colossal innocence and stupidity. Edgerton Linley was a mean, sarcastic, sneering man who ruled his family through intimidation and fear. And she must put up with him for at least a year, she thought, her heart sinking.
And it’s all my own fault.
Edgerton’s wife cleared her throat. Obviously she, too, could no longer stand the heavy, discomfiting silence. In a sudden burst of words, she declared, “It’s so exciting about Lady Perry’s ball tomorrow night. Edgerton, did you know Althea has a new gown to wear? It’s the loveliest thing, of white satin and silver.”
Edgerton frowned with annoyance. “You know my opinion of Lady Perry. It’s with the greatest reluctance I am allowing Alethea to go.” He looked toward Lucinda. “Is she going, too?”
His wife frowned with concern. “Why I hadn’t thought...but, of course Lucinda must go. You have something suitable to wear, haven’t you, Lucinda?”
Going to a ball was the last thing on Lucinda’s mind, but she would do her best to help alleviate the awkwardness of this miserable meal. “I would love it,” she said with a smile. “If that’s all right with you, Aunt,” she said to Pernelia. “I have a ball gown that might do.” Mainly to avoid the awful silence from descending again, she decided to talk on. “Who will be there?”
“Nearly the entire countryside,” chimed Alethea, her spirits restored. “In fact, the latest on-dit has it that Douglas, Lord Belington is home, and even he might
—” Alethea gasped, slapped her hand to her mouth, and looked horrified.
“Now you’ve done it,” said Charles, the little boy. It was the first time Lucinda had heard him speak.
“Oh, dear,” Alethea said, “I didn’t mean...that just slipped out.”
All eyes turned to Edgerton. It seemed as if everyone was holding their collective breath, waiting for the Master of the Household to render his opinion. He took his time, seeming to savor the fearful moment. Then he smiled
—a false smile, Lucinda noted, if ever there was one. “In honor of the arrival of our cousin, I shall let your thoughtless remark pass, Alethea, but in future, watch your tongue.”
Thank goodness, Lucinda thought as she scooped up a bit of the turbot with her fork and prepared to take another bite. Later, when this miserable meal was finally over
—if it would ever be over—she must remember to ask Aunt Pernelia why the mention of this Douglas, Lord Belington, should bring such fear to everyone’s eyes. She wondered who he was. She also wanted to hear more about Aunt’s tragedy, but that would happen in its own good time...
Thwank!
The horrendous noise was from Edgerton’s fist slamming hard against the table, causing silverware to jump and dishes to rattle. Everyone flinched. Again, all eyes turned to the head of the table.
Edgerton appeared calm, except for a vein which stood out in his forehead that looked as if it were about to burst. He was peering at Alethea, giving her a look full of scorn. In a voice low and trembling, he asked, “How dare you mention a Belington in this house?”
“Papa, I already told you...”
“If it happens again
—”
“Oh, it won’t, Papa,” Althea cried, looking terrified.
“Douglas, Lord Belington, does not exist, is that clear? Nor his brother Alex, nor William, his father, nor—”
“William is dead, dear,” his wife interjected, her voice even smaller.
“I am aware who is dead and who is not,” Edgerton answered. “Suffice to say, I shall not tolerate even the merest mention of a Belington in this household, is that clear?” Lucinda watched as all nodded vigorously, except Charles who, even more sullen-faced, had slipped even further into his chair.
“Good,” continued Edgerton. “Nor shall I hear one single mention of Ravenswood Manor.” He cast an ominous glance around the table. “Or there will be dire consequences. I trust that also is clear. We must never forget the tragedy.” After everyone except Charles and Lucinda had nodded again, Edgerton smiled and picked up his fork. “Ah, I see dessert has arrived. Lucinda, for your information, Henri has sent us another delight. It’s
called les truffles à la cendre
. You might wish to also jot that down.” He smiled benignly. “Let us continue our meal.”
Lucinda gazed down at her truffles without the least desire to take one bite. What had she done? she wondered. Why did she not listen to Papa? Would this be her life, night after night, for the whole next year?
Never had she appreciated her dear family more than this very moment. How she wished she were home again, sitting at her own table, joining in the lively chatter and merry laughter. She could ask to go home, she supposed. In fact, didn’t Aunt more or less expect her to leave? Well, she would not be a quitter. Papa called her tenacious, and so she would be.
* * *
Later, after the horrible dinner had finally ended, Lucinda helped Aunt to her room. When she left, she encountered Alethea in the hallway. The young girl smiled mischievously. “Well, did you enjoy dinner?”
Lucinda sought to be tactful. “At least the food was delicious.”
“You don’t have to be polite. The best part of dinner is when it’s over.”
“I noticed.”
“Try not to mind Papa.”
Lucinda slanted a wry look at her young cousin. “I never knew my ignorance before tonight.”
“All those French names? Just don’t pay any attention. It’s ludicrous, the way Papa puts on airs when in reality—” Alethea lowered her voice “—he hardly has a penny. It’s Grandmama’s money that supplies him with all those little luxuries, such as his French cook.”
“But Cousin Edgerton owns Southfield, does he not?”
“Indeed he does, by right of entailment, and when Southfield came into his hands, it was a wealthy estate. But from what I understand—and never say I told you—Papa is such a poor manager the estate is now in debt. But why should he care? Grandmama gives him money whenever he asks.” Alethea giggled. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t all be eating truffles and Le turbot.”
Lucinda said thoughtfully, “I take it Aunt Pernelia is wealthy in her own right.”
“Grandmama was most fortunate. Her father was a shrewd bargainer. Her pin-money was hardly that, amounting to five hundred pounds a month. And her jointure! Most considerable, I assure you, and then, there’s also the land she owns, as well as several homes.” Alethea giggled again. “All of which drives Papa absolutely mad.”
“But isn’t he pleased that his mother is well taken care of?”
“I doubt Papa’s even thought of it. He is unendingly galled by the fact that his mother has all the money and he doesn’t. I cannot tell you the times he’s threatened—pleaded—cajoled! poor Grandmama to turn her money over to him, but she’s stubborn and won’t. Which is rather strange,” Alethea added thoughtfully, “considering she caters to him in every other way, but when it comes to her money, she stands firm.”
“Alethea!” came a sharp reprimand from the stairway. Lucinda turned and saw Sarah reach the landing. Edgerton’s spinster sister was glaring at her niece. The sinewy cords standing out in her scrawny neck further revealed her hostility.
“What is wrong, Aunt Sarah?”
“You should never discuss family business with a stranger,” Sarah declared.
“But Lucinda is not a stranger, she’s our cousin.”
“She’s a stranger to me
.” Sarah flashed Lucinda a look full of loathing and contempt. “We don’t need you here. Mama must have lost her mind.”
“I hardly think
—” Lucinda began, but already Sarah and spun around on her heel and headed for her bed chamber.
“Pay no attention to her,” whispered Alethea. “She’s just a dried-up old ape leader.”