her mother. Joseph felt well-pleased with the progression of events in his estate thus far; the plan he’d habored within him all this while began to take shape in his mind.
Scooting his chair forward once more, Josepg opened a small drawer, taking out a blank sheet of paplin parhcment paper. Opening a silver-and-glass inkwell, he dipped a fresh quill into the thick, black liquid, wiping it expertly on a nearby blotter.
SEVEN
The following morning dawned clear, the air cold and crisp; a sharp knock rang out at the door of the Hays residence. Elizabeth, dressing in her room, heard their servant walk to the front door and open it.
“Harold for you sir,” came the servant’s voice, calling to her father.
“Yes, yes… I am coming,” came her father’s voice, presumably coming from his study. “Harold, good to see you. Do you have those planting reports for me?”
“Indeed General,” came Harold’s steady voice. Hearing the words, Elizabeth smiled; the faithful servant yet kept respect for his former employer. Hastening to dress, she pulled on her shoes; she hoped to speak with the man before he left. Several days has flown by, with no letter from Joseph.
Another voice sounded out in the hall, which made Elizabeth pause and listen.
“Harold,” Mrs. Hays called out. “How good it is to see you.” Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose, slightly. To her knowledge, her mother had never spoken to Harold by name before; shivering at the chill, Elizabeth reached for her shawl and drew it around her shoulders.
“Thank you, Madam,” Harold said, sounding a little surprised.
“Please,” Mrs. Hays went on. “You must be tired, pray come sit with us in the parlor and have a cup of tea. I insist.” Elizabeth laced her shoe very quickly, hurrying to join them; she knew something was afoot.
Reports in hand, General Hays went back into his study, contemplating the papers as he closed the door. Left in the hall alone, Harold was indeed surprised at the unexpected invitation; the General’s wife had never spoken to him in such fond terms. He looked around as she led the way into the ‘parlor’; it was really a small room on the open back deck, looking out over the water. The lady moved gracefully, as if she were leading a visiting Duke, indicating an expensive chair for him to sit in. The chair was one of the few left of the last estate; somehow it had escaped being sold.
Without a word, Harold waited for Mrs. Hays to sit, and then did likewise.
“Annie, bring tea,” Mrs. Hays said to her maid. The girl left, almost bumping into Elizabeth as she hurried to join them. Harold stood up as she entered the room.
“Oh, Elizabeth… come sit, my dear,” Mrs. Hays said, giving her daughter a banal smile. “Look who is here to visit…” Elizabeth curtsied and smiled at Harold; she sat nearby, slightly uneased by her mother’s demeanor.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Harold greeted, nodding his head as he resumed his seat.
“How kind of you to come see us,” the general’s wife continued, smiling benevolently on her former servant. “I hear you are getting along well in your newly elevated position.”
“Yes, madam,” Harold said, recovering himself enough to exude a calm countenance; he was more than suspicious of this sudden attention. “I am fairing well, as you seem to be.”
“We are very happy here, thanks to the Lord of the Stone Mountain’s patronage,” Mrs. Hays replied, trying to convey artlessness. Elizabeth felt ill at her mother’s false humility, but held her peace. “Such a gentleman… though, he appears to be somewhat of a phantom.”
With this she lifted her gaze to Harold, who appeared completely stoic. “Neither I nor my husband has even seen him, nor have any of the noble ladies of my recent acquaintance. There is some speculation as to his very existence, since he does not call on anyone. The Count and Countess Beckenridge of Vehale are a respectable family and they assure me that this Lord
Scooting his chair forward once more, Josepg opened a small drawer, taking out a blank sheet of paplin parhcment paper. Opening a silver-and-glass inkwell, he dipped a fresh quill into the thick, black liquid, wiping it expertly on a nearby blotter.
SEVEN
The following morning dawned clear, the air cold and crisp; a sharp knock rang out at the door of the Hays residence. Elizabeth, dressing in her room, heard their servant walk to the front door and open it.
“Harold for you sir,” came the servant’s voice, calling to her father.
“Yes, yes… I am coming,” came her father’s voice, presumably coming from his study. “Harold, good to see you. Do you have those planting reports for me?”
“Indeed General,” came Harold’s steady voice. Hearing the words, Elizabeth smiled; the faithful servant yet kept respect for his former employer. Hastening to dress, she pulled on her shoes; she hoped to speak with the man before he left. Several days has flown by, with no letter from Joseph.
Another voice sounded out in the hall, which made Elizabeth pause and listen.
“Harold,” Mrs. Hays called out. “How good it is to see you.” Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose, slightly. To her knowledge, her mother had never spoken to Harold by name before; shivering at the chill, Elizabeth reached for her shawl and drew it around her shoulders.
“Thank you, Madam,” Harold said, sounding a little surprised.
“Please,” Mrs. Hays went on. “You must be tired, pray come sit with us in the parlor and have a cup of tea. I insist.” Elizabeth laced her shoe very quickly, hurrying to join them; she knew something was afoot.
Reports in hand, General Hays went back into his study, contemplating the papers as he closed the door. Left in the hall alone, Harold was indeed surprised at the unexpected invitation; the General’s wife had never spoken to him in such fond terms. He looked around as she led the way into the ‘parlor’; it was really a small room on the open back deck, looking out over the water. The lady moved gracefully, as if she were leading a visiting Duke, indicating an expensive chair for him to sit in. The chair was one of the few left of the last estate; somehow it had escaped being sold.
Without a word, Harold waited for Mrs. Hays to sit, and then did likewise.
“Annie, bring tea,” Mrs. Hays said to her maid. The girl left, almost bumping into Elizabeth as she hurried to join them. Harold stood up as she entered the room.
“Oh, Elizabeth… come sit, my dear,” Mrs. Hays said, giving her daughter a banal smile. “Look who is here to visit…” Elizabeth curtsied and smiled at Harold; she sat nearby, slightly uneased by her mother’s demeanor.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Harold greeted, nodding his head as he resumed his seat.
“How kind of you to come see us,” the general’s wife continued, smiling benevolently on her former servant. “I hear you are getting along well in your newly elevated position.”
“Yes, madam,” Harold said, recovering himself enough to exude a calm countenance; he was more than suspicious of this sudden attention. “I am fairing well, as you seem to be.”
“We are very happy here, thanks to the Lord of the Stone Mountain’s patronage,” Mrs. Hays replied, trying to convey artlessness. Elizabeth felt ill at her mother’s false humility, but held her peace. “Such a gentleman… though, he appears to be somewhat of a phantom.”
With this she lifted her gaze to Harold, who appeared completely stoic. “Neither I nor my husband has even seen him, nor have any of the noble ladies of my recent acquaintance. There is some speculation as to his very existence, since he does not call on anyone. The Count and Countess Beckenridge of Vehale are a respectable family and they assure me that this Lord
Similar Books
