Cinders & Sapphires (At Somerton) Read online

  Rose hastily gathered up her things and ran for the door, followed by Annie and Stella. She couldn’t resist slowing to peek through the French windows. A huge, majestically gleaming motorcar was drawing into the courtyard. The man at the wheel looked up, caught her eye, and winked. Rose gasped and backed away. Annie caught her arm.

  “Come on, Miss Cliffe,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “You don’t have to call me that!” Rose ran up the stairs after her, leaving Stella behind.

  “I do, though. And Miss Ward likes it, I’m sure.” Annie added: “Don’t get too high and mighty, though, will you?”

  “Of course I won’t. You’re my friend.” Rose had shared a room with Annie since they were twelve, and she had a lump in her throat at the thought of that ending. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Huh!” Annie sounded pleased, though. “You’ll soon forget us and make friends with Miss Ward, I’m sure.”

  Rose glanced behind her. Stella was nowhere in sight.

  “I hope I’m friendly, but I couldn’t be friends with her. She’s much older than me.”

  “Nonsense, she’s no more than eighteen.”

  “She can’t be!”

  “She is.” Annie nodded knowingly.

  “But she’s so sophisticated and confident, and…she looks twenty-five at least!”

  Annie dropped her voice to a whisper: “She wears makeup.”

  “She doesn’t!”

  “She does. You’re that innocent, Rose!” Annie giggled, and that set Rose off.

  “What are you two giggling about?” Stella caught up with them, looking annoyed. “Come on, they’ve gone into the drawing room and there’s still a lot to be done before the hall looks ready.”

  “They’re here!” Georgiana rushed from the drawing room window, back to Ada. “Is my dress all right?”

  “Yes, of course.” Ada sounded soothing, but her heart was beating fast too. This was it, the moment they met the people who would share their lives from now on. She wondered whether she should stand or sit. Which would look more dignified and casual—but welcoming? But it was too late. She could hear footsteps outside, her father’s voice and a woman’s—and other voices as well.

  Cooper thrust the door open, bowed, and stood back. Ada smiled nervously as her father came in, followed by a tall, very handsome woman wearing a well-cut burgundy motoring dress that showed off her elegant figure. The furs of what looked like an entire den of foxes were wound around her neck, and despite the long drive her gloves were spotless.

  “Mrs. Fiona Templeton,” Cooper announced in his most sepulchral tones.

  Ada was startled. She had not expected her new stepmother to be so stylish—or so young looking. Was she young enough to give birth to another son? she wondered for the first time. No wonder William’s nose was out of joint.

  Before she could gather her thoughts, Cooper went on: “Miss Charlotte Templeton.”

  Into the room came a girl of Ada’s age. She had all of her mother’s style and did a good impression of having her beauty. Her hair was dressed with mischievous golden curls escaping from under her hat, and she wore sapphires around her neck that brought out the glint of her eyes. Ada smiled and moved forward, but Charlotte did not echo her smile.

  “Master Sebastian Templeton,” Cooper went on.

  Charlotte was followed by a young man in motoring clothes. He looked more like his mother than his sister did. He had her height and her strong, aristocratic features. Ada knew just enough about men’s clothes to see at once that his were of the best tailoring—better, perhaps, than his sister’s. There was genuine taste there, as well as the same sense of fashion.

  Cooper glanced out into the corridor as if he were expecting another person, then backed out with a bow.

  “I am delighted to bring my future wife to Somerton,” Lord Westlake said, with a warm smile at Mrs. Templeton. Ada could see that he genuinely cared for her. “This is Sir William and Lady Edith.”

  Mrs. Templeton smiled politely. William growled under his breath, and Edith looked away. Mrs. Templeton seemed not at all concerned by their lack of enthusiasm. But Ada cringed at their lack of manners. She swallowed and stepped forward.

  She had agonized over the greeting she would give her father’s new bride. She supposed it had to be warm and welcoming, to make Mrs. Templeton feel at home, without being overly familiar. They were, after all, strangers. “We are very happy to welcome you to Somerton, Mrs. Templeton,” she said, looking up at her. “And above all, to thank you for making Papa so happy. We wondered what you would like us to call you. Mother, or Mrs. Templeton, or—”

  Mrs. Templeton laughed. “Lady Westlake, dear—after all that is my title, or will be in just a few days.” She patted Ada’s head absently and her eyes passed over Georgiana before she turned back to her betrothed. “They are a young-looking pair, aren’t they! One would never think they were nearly ready to come out.” She took Lord Westlake’s arm and drew him away toward the windows. “You must show me all the grounds, Edward. I’ve been so looking forward to it.”

  Ada stood speechless. Sebastian looked about him with a faintly cynical smile.

  “So this is Somerton!” he drawled. “I must say it’s a very stately pile. I’m not surprised mother fell so very much in love with Lord Westlake.”

  “Very nice, for the countryside,” sighed Charlotte, moving toward her mother. She seated herself in an armchair, where the light played flatteringly on her features, and toyed with her necklace, her lips parted prettily as she gazed out of the window. Edith’s expression turned even sourer, and she turned away, cooing to one of her pug dogs, which was sprawled, panting, on the hearth rug.

  Sebastian curled his lip as he looked at his sister. “Charlotte, that pose is so well rehearsed,” he said. “You’d make a delightful statue. Much nicer than the live version.”

  He turned to Ada, who had turned quite pink, and bowed gracefully over her hand. “Whatever my mother’s preferences, I hope you’ll consider me your brother. I’m certainly in need of a new and improved sister.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Oh, Seb, how ridiculous you are.”

  Ada felt completely at a loss. Sebastian meant to be kind, she was sure, but she couldn’t imagine what she would do if he treated her with the easy insolence with which he treated Charlotte. She struggled for a way to break the awkward silence, but it was done for her.

  “Hello, Mother!” came an annoyed shout from outside. “Where are you?”

  Startled, Ada turned toward the door just as Cooper, looking harassed, thrust it open.

  “Master—” he began, but he was forced to stand aside as a defiant-looking boy came through the door.

  “Michael. Michael Templeton,” the boy finished. He strode over to fling himself down on the sofa, removing the motoring goggles still pushed up in his blond hair. He nodded roughly at Ada and Georgiana. “Michael Templeton. Is there anything to eat? I’m starving.”

  Ada did not know whether to laugh or cry, especially when she caught the expression on Cooper’s face as he shut the door behind him.

  “I—er—I’ll ring for some tea,” she said quickly. She pressed the bell, and secretly caught Georgiana’s eye. Georgiana made a slight, horrified face. They didn’t need to speak. It was clear that the Templetons were going to take some getting used to.

  Rose hurried after Stella, up the winding stairs toward Lady Ada’s room. Stella had been here only a few days and yet she already seemed to know her way around better than Rose did. But all this was new to Rose. She had never before been allowed to walk freely through the family’s part of the house. She had always been a downstairs maid. It was Annie who lit the fires in the family’s bedrooms in the morning. It was like finding herself in a whole new Somerton.

  There was something in Stella’s assured smile as she pushed open Lady Ada’s door that made Rose nervous. She told herself she was being silly. Stella and she were equals, Stella had said so herself. Rose jus
t needed to believe it. She looked around at the room. It seemed more lived in now. A discarded dress was strewn across the bed, and there were books lying open on the windowsill.

  “Now, it’s true that there’s a lot to learn and you are in no way prepared, but you mustn’t feel daunted,” Stella said. “We all had to start somewhere.”

  “I’m very grateful,” Rose said, and she meant it. Looking at this room through the eyes of someone who had seen how London ladies live, she felt the full responsibility of what lay ahead.

  Stella wrinkled her nose as she looked around the room. “I’m not sure if the fact that these girls are truly countrified makes your job easier or more difficult, Rose. You will certainly have trouble turning them out stylishly. You’ll have to convince them to buy some more gowns—those drab old muslins are no good to anyone. I wouldn’t wear them myself.”

  Rose found herself wanting to defend Lady Ada.

  “I think Lady Ada always looks nice. I know her dresses aren’t as”—she searched for a word—“fashionable as Miss Charlotte’s, but they seem to suit her.”

  “I hope you’re not comparing Miss Charlotte to Lady Ada!” Stella sounded quite scandalized. “Everyone knows Miss Charlotte is one of the most elegant debutantes in London. Now…” She looked thoughtful. Rose waited, listening carefully. Stella would be able to teach her so much—if she wanted to.

  “I expect you have previous experience of dressing ladies?” Stella went on. As she spoke, she moved around the room, picking up a kid glove here, a silk stocking here, and placing them into drawers or setting them on one side for mending or washing.

  Rose followed her, trying to take note of everything that she did. “I’ve done my mother’s hair and dresses for years.” But as Rose looked at the huge wardrobes in front of her, she had to admit that it was much like comparing sailing a dinghy to captaining an ocean liner.

  “Oh dear, that’s hardly the same thing.” Stella smoothed a glove into a drawer. “Let me explain. Your main duty is to make sure the young ladies look their best. You must prepare their clothes and do their hair.” She plucked a stray hair from the pillow. “Keep the dressing table in order, make sure they have cologne and cosmetics—” She arranged the items on the dressing table as she spoke, placing a silver-and-amber brooch into the jewel case, and folding a fan and putting it away.

  “Dressing table, cologne, cosmetics…” Rose repeated, wondering how on earth she would remember all this.

  “That’s not all there is to the job, of course.…Miss Charlotte often doesn’t finish a ball until three in the morning. Lady Ada seems a bit quiet for that, but you must always wait up until she comes home, to undress her. There will be plenty to wash and mend while you wait.”

  “I can wash and mend,” Rose said eagerly. “But how shall I know what to give her to wear?”

  “She will tell you what she intends to do that day, and you make your selection accordingly, of course. From her wardrobe.” Stella threw open the wardrobe doors.

  Rose looked in horror at the rails of clothes. They had seemed sparse when she compared them to Miss Charlotte’s, but now that she was in charge of them, they seemed overwhelming.

  “But I don’t know which are right for riding and walking and visiting….”

  Stella looked at Rose pityingly. “You have more to learn than I thought. Just concentrate on well-cut tweeds and some really presentable evening dresses, a number of tea gowns, and so on.”

  “Tea gowns,” Rose repeated, wondering again in panic how she would remember.

  “But the most important thing is not to forget your new status. You are a ladies’ maid. This means you won’t eat in the servants’ hall. One of the housemaids will bring you a tray. It’s very important that you set yourself apart.”

  Rose had always eaten in the warm servants’ hall. She felt a lump in her throat at the thought of Annie bringing her a tray. She was aware of Stella’s eyes on her.

  “How on earth did you get this post, Rose? I am dying to know who you impressed.”

  Rose, taken aback by the abrupt question, answered automatically: “It was Lord Westlake who suggested it. I think he must be a very kind man.”

  “He must be,” said Miss Ward lightly, “to have taken your mother in.”

  Rose looked at her in surprise.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, only that few households of this consequence would take on a maid with a child,” said Miss Ward. Her blue eyes glinted with an expression Rose couldn’t decipher. “Let alone promote her to housekeeper.”

  Rose felt herself turning pink. She knew her father was dead. She didn’t remember him, and her mother didn’t speak of him, but that didn’t mean…“My mother’s a widow,” she said as calmly as she could. “You surely don’t mean to imply—”

  Miss Ward’s eyes grew round. “Of course not! I simply meant to say that it is unusual, isn’t it, to take on a servant with a child in tow.”

  “My mother gives very good satisfaction, and I hope I do too,” Rose said, her voice trembling slightly.

  “I can see that is the case. It’s not me you have to convince. And indeed, it needn’t make the slightest bit of difference,” Miss Ward said warmly. “What will matter is how well you perform your work. The first thing is to make sure Lady Ada has something suitable for dinner tonight.” She ran a critical hand over the dresses. “This eau de nile tulle may do, if she has some pearls to wear with it. Just a strand or two… Have you quite considered whether you’re right to accept this post, Rose? I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed, you see. I’m only thinking of your own good.”

  Are you? thought Rose. Out loud, she said, “You’re very kind. But I think it’s my duty to give it a try.”

  Stella smiled tightly. “Well, if you’re determined, I’m glad. We must be very good friends, then, mustn’t we?”

  “I suppose we must,” said Rose.

  Stella turned back to the wardrobe, running a thoughtful finger down a satin dress. “I’ll give you a word of advice,” she said in a voice as smooth as the cloth. “There are a lot of opportunities for a ladies’ maid, if you’re wise enough to know how to take them.”

  Rose stayed silent. Stella clearly meant much more than she was saying.

  “The trick is to find ways inside your mistress’ defenses,” Stella went on. “Once you know what she’s afraid of, you can wrap her round your little finger.” She looked at Rose and when Rose did not answer, scowled. She left the wardrobe and moved closer to Rose. “Do you think they’re in charge, just because they pay your wages? They need us. They couldn’t live a day without us. It is up to us to show them how indispensable we are—how much they need our loyalty. After all, a ladies’ maid often hears and sees things that have a certain…value to them.”

  Rose stared at her, speechless. She could hardly believe what Stella was implying.

  “I think I understand you,” she said, her face hot, her voice tense. “And you’ve made a mistake. That is not me.”

  Stella stepped away from her as if she had burned herself.

  “You never know what you’ll do until you have to, Miss Cliffe.” Her voice was icy, but there was color in her cheeks, and Rose noticed something like fear in her eyes. “Those who ride on high horses have a long way to fall.”

  Dinner was served, and the candlelight was reflected in the crystal and the silver, a shimmering, glimmering display of ice and fire. The shadowy Old Masters looked down from the walls, and in the center of the table a carved ice swan melted slowly into a silver tray.

  Ada, not used to such luxury, felt all fingers and thumbs. The Templetons seemed more at home. Michael tore pieces of bread and rolled them into balls, his face set in a moody reverie. He was certainly handsome, like his older brother, Ada thought, but too sulky to be likeable. Georgiana was making a fine attempt of talking to him, but he answered in monosyllables.

  “Fine motor, that, Mrs. Templeton. We’ve ordered a Rolls,” William sai
d at the other end of the table. “Chauffeur, though—wouldn’t want to drive it myself.”

  “Ordered a motorcar?” Lord Westlake raised his eyebrows. “How much did that cost?”

  “Everyone has them nowadays,” William said, raising his glass for the footman.

  “So I’m told.” Lord Westlake watched the wine filling William’s glass. “The chauffeur will cost more than he’s worth—they’re not good servants.”

  William took a generous swig and wiped his mouth.

  “So, Uncle, why the hurry to return? India lose its charm?”

  “Your sincerity is overwhelming,” Lord Westlake said dryly.

  “We’re obviously delighted to see you back,” William said gruffly. “I’m sure you understand that we found the sudden homecoming and subsequent marriage announcement a bit jarring, that’s all.”

  “Did you?” Lord Westlake laid down his knife and fork. “Because I found what happened with the fields above Redlands Copse a bit jarring as well, William.”

  “They were going to rot. I saw opportunity in the sale. No need for them, so we sold them at a profit.”

  “Those fields had been in the estate since the seventeen hundreds. I left you here as steward, not to try and turn a profit to your own account.”

  “I think you’re very hard on a fellow,” said William. He buried his nose in his wineglass, his eyes darting here and there as if looking for an escape. “And it’s not as if I’m the only sinner in the room, either.”

  Ada’s food had turned to a lump in her throat. William had always been pigheaded, but he surely couldn’t be foolish and rude enough to bring up the matter of Papa’s resignation over dinner. Not with the Templetons listening avidly. Sebastian’s eyes were dancing with curiosity.

  “I’m going to pretend, William, that you did not say that.”

  William, eyeing the dangerous expression on his uncle’s face, muttered, “Right, sir.”

  Georgiana clattered her fork, and all eyes turned to her.

  “I’m so looking forward to our first season—I mean, Ada’s first season,” she said, looking at her sister pleadingly. The message was clear: Change the subject!