spare moments stitching a tidy seam. But the footman was preparing to close the door with her on the outside. “Maybe Lady Grey is not precisely expecting me,” Tabby said quickly, “but she should have known I’d call. Tell her—tell her I must speak to her regarding a very delicate matter. I can say no more at the moment, but also mention to her the name Quarles.”
The footman’s jaw dropped open. Lady Grey’s high principles did not prevent the servants in her employ from enjoying a gossip about their betters. The footman had not been surprised to learn that Sir Geoffrey had a wandering eye; it was not a prerogative solely of the upper class. The footman had a bit of an eye for the ladies himself. But he was astonished at the temerity of this female walking right up to the front door. And he was even more astonished at her appearance. “Quarles!” he repeated. “Cor!”
Tabby wondered why the footman was staring so at her. She took advantage of his befuddlement to walk past him into the entry hall. “Shouldn’t you inform your mistress that I am here?” she asked.
The footman didn’t know what he should do, so thunderstruck was he. This bizarre situation must be referred to his superiors, posthaste. Perhaps the butler would have an opinion, or the housekeeper. “Follow me, ma’am.” He abandoned Tabby in a small anteroom as he fled for help.
Tabby didn’t mind being left alone; it gave her an opportunity to collect her thoughts and marshal her arguments. Lady Grey must be brought to realize that Sir Geoffrey, above all, was good and generous and kind. Perhaps he was also a trifle foolish, but that did not signify, surely, in light of his other excellent qualities?
Tabby sighed. It would be difficult to convince Lady Grey of something she didn’t believe herself. Tabby didn’t think she’d want a husband who was foolish, no matter how generous and kind. Not that she was likely to have a husband of any nature now. This was hardly a fit moment in which to mourn her spinster state, particularly since a tall and very superior-looking female had walked into the anteroom and was looking disapprovingly at her. So disapprovingly, indeed, that Tabby wondered if she had a rip or a smudge. “Lady Grey?” she asked, though she knew it could not be. By all accounts Lady Grey was as beautiful as she was disagreeable.
The woman’s long nose twitched. “I’m Grimsley,” she said. Very fortunate it was that the shaken footman had encountered Grimsley; she had more opinions than the butler and housekeeper combined. “Her ladyship’s abigail. Herself sent me to fetch you.” She walked down the hallway and up the stair, leaving Tabby to keep up as best she could. So brisk was Grimsley’s pace that Tabby was breathless when the abigail stopped outside a door. “ Herself is within,” she said, and stepped back a pace.
Tabby stared at the closed door and then at Grimsley. The abigail looked wooden, a task to which her harsh features were suited admirably. Tabby took a deep breath, turned the door handle and walked into the room, taking a somewhat unchristian pleasure in closing the door in Grimsley’s face.
The room was in shadow, the draperies drawn. Tabby paused just inside the doorway while her eyes adjusted to the dim light. All was quiet except for the ticking of an ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. Tabby wondered if the abigail had led her to the wrong room.
Lady Grey had the advantage; her own eyes were accustomed to the gloom. She stared at the intruder, who stood so very far away that her features were indistinct. From this distance, she didn’t look the sort of female who—who would wear that absurd hat. At least she’d had sufficient sensibility to adapt a more subdued fashion for her visit here. A pity her sensibility hadn’t been sufficiently exquisite to keep her away altogether! Augusta rose abruptly from the daybed upon which she had been resting and flung open the drapes.
As sunlight
The footman’s jaw dropped open. Lady Grey’s high principles did not prevent the servants in her employ from enjoying a gossip about their betters. The footman had not been surprised to learn that Sir Geoffrey had a wandering eye; it was not a prerogative solely of the upper class. The footman had a bit of an eye for the ladies himself. But he was astonished at the temerity of this female walking right up to the front door. And he was even more astonished at her appearance. “Quarles!” he repeated. “Cor!”
Tabby wondered why the footman was staring so at her. She took advantage of his befuddlement to walk past him into the entry hall. “Shouldn’t you inform your mistress that I am here?” she asked.
The footman didn’t know what he should do, so thunderstruck was he. This bizarre situation must be referred to his superiors, posthaste. Perhaps the butler would have an opinion, or the housekeeper. “Follow me, ma’am.” He abandoned Tabby in a small anteroom as he fled for help.
Tabby didn’t mind being left alone; it gave her an opportunity to collect her thoughts and marshal her arguments. Lady Grey must be brought to realize that Sir Geoffrey, above all, was good and generous and kind. Perhaps he was also a trifle foolish, but that did not signify, surely, in light of his other excellent qualities?
Tabby sighed. It would be difficult to convince Lady Grey of something she didn’t believe herself. Tabby didn’t think she’d want a husband who was foolish, no matter how generous and kind. Not that she was likely to have a husband of any nature now. This was hardly a fit moment in which to mourn her spinster state, particularly since a tall and very superior-looking female had walked into the anteroom and was looking disapprovingly at her. So disapprovingly, indeed, that Tabby wondered if she had a rip or a smudge. “Lady Grey?” she asked, though she knew it could not be. By all accounts Lady Grey was as beautiful as she was disagreeable.
The woman’s long nose twitched. “I’m Grimsley,” she said. Very fortunate it was that the shaken footman had encountered Grimsley; she had more opinions than the butler and housekeeper combined. “Her ladyship’s abigail. Herself sent me to fetch you.” She walked down the hallway and up the stair, leaving Tabby to keep up as best she could. So brisk was Grimsley’s pace that Tabby was breathless when the abigail stopped outside a door. “ Herself is within,” she said, and stepped back a pace.
Tabby stared at the closed door and then at Grimsley. The abigail looked wooden, a task to which her harsh features were suited admirably. Tabby took a deep breath, turned the door handle and walked into the room, taking a somewhat unchristian pleasure in closing the door in Grimsley’s face.
The room was in shadow, the draperies drawn. Tabby paused just inside the doorway while her eyes adjusted to the dim light. All was quiet except for the ticking of an ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. Tabby wondered if the abigail had led her to the wrong room.
Lady Grey had the advantage; her own eyes were accustomed to the gloom. She stared at the intruder, who stood so very far away that her features were indistinct. From this distance, she didn’t look the sort of female who—who would wear that absurd hat. At least she’d had sufficient sensibility to adapt a more subdued fashion for her visit here. A pity her sensibility hadn’t been sufficiently exquisite to keep her away altogether! Augusta rose abruptly from the daybed upon which she had been resting and flung open the drapes.
As sunlight
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