An Improper Companion

Elizabeth partook of a breakfast of bread and honey in her room the next morning. When she went downstairs she looked for Mr Elworthy, but saw nothing of him. On inquiry, she was told that both gentlemen had departed some minutes earlier. For a moment she regretted that she had not taken the chance to question him further about what he had seen, but supposed that he had told her all he could about her father’s behaviour. It would simply have to remain a mystery, for she had woken with a new determination to put the past behind her.

Mary did not make the mistake of oversleeping, so they were able to leave the inn in good time. Elizabeth had asked the innkeeper’s wife for a basket of provisions, and they ate a picnic in the carriage, stopping only once at a post house to change the horses, which meant that they approached Cavendish Hall at just before three that same afternoon.

Elizabeth craned to catch a glimpse of the house as the carriage drove up to the front entrance, feeling pleased as she saw that it was not a huge, ancient mansion, but a pleasant country home. She would guess that there were no more than ten or twelve bedrooms, and it had the look of a substantial building put up in the last century with long windows and a good slate roof. In fact, it was much like her father’s house, and she immediately felt that she would be at ease here.

‘You’ll be all right ’ere, miss,’ Mary gave her opinion as the door opened and an obliging footman helped them both down from the carriage. ‘I reckon as it ain’t much bigger than Worth House.’

‘No, that is very true,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘And very pretty. Look at those roses growing against that wall.’

‘That’ll be south facing, mark my words,’ Mary said. ‘If your room looks out this way it will be warm even in winter, miss.’

‘I dare say the family has the front-facing rooms,’ Elizabeth said. She glanced up at the windows and glimpsed a female figure clothed in a gown of pale peach for a moment, and then another woman, dressed more soberly in grey, came out of the house. She smiled as she approached them.

‘Miss Travers?’ the woman asked. ‘I am Mrs Bates—Lady Isadora’s housekeeper. You are in good time, miss. We wondered whether you might be late because of the state of the roads.’

‘No, indeed, we made good speed,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I think some of the country roads were a little rutted, but the highways were well enough.’

The housekeeper nodded, leading the way inside. A young maid was waiting in the hall, and she came to take Mary away and show her where to go. Elizabeth wondered if she might be given a moment to tidy herself before meeting her employer, but instead Mrs Bates led her upstairs to a parlour on the first floor.

‘Her ladyship is expecting you, Miss Travers. If you would care to greet her, your maid may unpack your things for you by the time you go up.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Elizabeth said. She stifled a sigh. She must accept that she was an employee now and not at liberty to do as she pleased. ‘Thank you, Mrs Bates.’

The housekeeper opened the parlour door and announced her. She then stood back for Elizabeth to go past her, which she did with some trepidation. Her heart was beating wildly as she advanced into the room and glanced at the lady lying elegantly on a sofa near the fireplace, where a small fire was glowing despite the spring sunshine. Dressed in an elegant peach silk gown, she looked younger and more stylish than Elizabeth had imagined, and she was glad that she had chosen to wear one of her better gowns. Although grey because of her mourning, it was becoming and of good quality cloth.

‘Ma’am…’ Elizabeth said hesitantly. ‘Lady Isadora…?’

‘Elizabeth, my dear,’ Lady Isadora said and eased herself into a sitting position. ‘How kind of you to come to me so quickly.’ She gave a little cough behind her hand. ‘I have been very poorly, but I must confess I am feeling a little better today. Perhaps it is the prospect of your company that has made me feel more cheerful.’

‘I was pleased to come,’ Elizabeth said, advancing further into the room. She bobbed a slight curtsy and smiled. ‘It was very kind of you to offer me the position as your companion.’

‘Oh, no, I am happy to have your company,’ Lady Isadora said holding out both her hands. ‘My companion of many years has retired to take care of her mother, and my daughter is increasing, which means she cannot travel to see me—though my son has decided to visit me at last.’ Her plaintive tone managed to convey the idea that it was a rare occurrence. ‘He is out seeing to estate matters at the moment, but will be here for dinner, I dare say.’

Elizabeth took her outstretched hands, bending to kiss her cheek since it appeared to be expected. She was kissed warmly in return and then was asked to sit on the chair opposite Lady Isadora’s sofa.

‘You must be happy to have him here, ma’am?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Lady Isadora told her with a sigh. ‘Cavendish is a good enough son to me, but it is not like having the company of a young lady. My youngest daughter would have been eighteen this year had she lived. It has been much on my mind of late. I would have been making plans to bring her out this summer.’

‘Oh, I did not know of your loss,’ Elizabeth sympathised instantly. ‘I am so sorry. You must miss her dreadfully.’

‘Yes, I do, of course,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘My eldest daughter is married, but I see her so infrequently…’ Not quite the truth, for Melanie had spent a month with her earlier in the year.

‘You have friends, ma’am?’

‘Yes.’ Lady Isadora waved her hand languidly. ‘I have not entertained much recently because of my illness…’ She coughed delicately. ‘However, once I am feeling a little stronger—’ She broke off, frowning as she heard footsteps in the hall. She had told Daniel to stay away from the parlour until the evening, but he had either forgotten or ignored her request. ‘It seems we are about to have company…’

‘Mama…’ The earl came into the room and stood looking at his mother for a moment before turning his gaze on Elizabeth. His brows narrowed—she was not quite what he had expected. Not pretty by any means, but certainly not the plain-faced spinster he had been anticipating. He had been right to suspect his mother of some mischief. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Travers. We had not expected you this early.’

‘If I am in the way…’ Elizabeth sensed his reserve and stiffened. She had the feeling that he did not quite approve of her being here. She stood up as if prepared to leave the room.

‘Oh, do not mind Daniel,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘Ring for tea, my love—that little bell on the table beside you. Unless you wish to go up and refresh yourself first?’

‘Thank you, I should like to wash my hands before taking tea,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I shall return in fifteen minutes.’ She lifted her brilliant eyes to meet the earl’s. ‘Will that be sufficient time for you to speak privately with Lady Isadora, sir?’

‘Quite adequate,’ he said and inclined his head, his expression giving little away. ‘Besides, Mama will be impatient for your return. I am sure she wishes to talk to you about so many things…’

There was an odd expression in his eyes, almost as though he suspected her of something. Elizabeth inclined her head to him, smiled at her employer and walked from the room. Her head was up, her back very straight. She hesitated as to whether she should close the door behind her, and, as she lingered for a second, she heard the sound of the earl’s laughter.

‘Well, Mama, what are you up to?’ he said in a mocking tone. ‘Not quite the little country mouse you led me to believe. Not pretty, but not hopeless by any means. I think that perhaps you will have no need of my sacrificial lamb. I dare say you will find what you require without any help from me…’

‘Daniel, do not be so provoking. Tell me, did you not think her a charming gel?’

Elizabeth’s face went bright red as she heard the tinkling laugh from her hostess. She hurried across the hall and up the stairs, not wanting to hear another word of their conversation.

Chapter Two

A helpful footman sent Elizabeth in the right direction at the top of the stairs, and she found a young maid assisting Mary to unpack her things in a large, front-facing bedchamber. The sun was warming the room, giving it a welcoming atmosphere, and the two girls were laughing together, clearly getting on well. However, as Elizabeth entered, the rather pretty maid curtsied to her and smiled, telling her that she was called Amy and that Lady Isadora had asked her to wait on Elizabeth.

‘I am to look after you when Mary goes home,’ Amy said. ‘I thought I would take the opportunity to see how you like things done, Miss Travers.’

‘That is very kind of you,’ Elizabeth said, ‘but my needs are very few. I am used to dressing myself these days.’

Amy’s eyes were approving as she took in the neat bodice and skirt Elizabeth was wearing; its cut was good and it had more style than the gowns Lady Isadora’s former companion had worn, but then Miss Travers was more of a guest than an employee from what Amy had heard below stairs.

‘I shall press your gowns and you might like me to do your hair for you, miss—in the evenings when her ladyship entertains.’

‘Yes, perhaps.’ Elizabeth frowned—she had not expected to be assigned her own maid nor that her employer would give the kind of dinners that required her to need the services of a maid. However, she had brought all her best gowns with her so she would not disgrace her employer. ‘Could you both come back a little later, if you please? I should like to be alone for a moment.’

‘Yes, Miss Travers, of course. Come along, Mary. I will show you where we eat…’

Elizabeth washed her hands and made herself comfortable. She glanced at herself in the pretty dressing mirror, which was in the shape of a shield and in keeping with the rest of the furniture in the room. The furnishings were after the style of Mr Adam, she thought, and had obviously been replaced quite recently. It was an elegant, comfortable room and seemed to be one of the best guest bedchambers. That puzzled her a little, for she had not been sure what to expect.

Her cheeks grew warm again as she recalled the mockery in the Earl of Cavendish’s voice as he had spoken to his mother about her. So they had expected her to be a country mouse, had they? Elizabeth felt a pang of chagrin—she did not take kindly to the idea that she was an object of pity. It was true that her circumstances were altered, but she was still the daughter of a gentleman and she did not need—would not accept—charity. She had thought that Lady Isadora would be a kind employer, but she had expected to earn her keep and the dress allowance her employer had offered.

But what had the earl been hinting at when he spoke of a sacrificial lamb? Perhaps she had misunderstood him? After some thought, she decided that he must surely have been speaking on another matter, which had nothing to do with her at all.

She must not jump to conclusions that might be false, Elizabeth decided as she left the room and went back down the stairs to the parlour on the first floor. She felt a little tentative lest the earl should still be with his mother, but when she tapped at the door and was invited to enter, she soon discovered that Lady Isadora was alone.

‘Ah, there you are, my dear,’ she said, smiling at Elizabeth. ‘You have been very quick. I am sure it would take me much longer.’

‘I did not wish to keep you waiting, Lady Isadora.’

‘No, no, you must not be so formal when we are alone. Please call me by my name, Elizabeth.’

‘That would not be fitting for I hardly know you and must show respect. May I call you ma’am?’

‘Yes, of course, if you wish. But once you are settled here you may feel it easier to call me Isadora or Dora, as my friends do, Elizabeth. I know it must all seem very strange to you at first, but I live very simply here most of the time. Of course, it will be different when we visit Brighton in the summer—and perhaps Bath later in the year, for my health you know. I seldom go up to London—I find it too tiring.’