Never Doubt I Love by Patricia Veryan

Julia told her kindly to spend the first few days exploring the great house and identifying the servants. At some time each day, she was summoned to brush the cats or take one or other of the dogs for a walk, or to talk to Lady Julia while she rested in the afternoon. The frail lady was unfailingly kind and gentle. She betrayed a flattering interest in Zoe’s childhood and in her life at Travisford which sounded, she said wistfully, so jolly compared to her own rigidly controlled youth. “I have never climbed a tree in all my days,” she sighed. “Never played rounders with other girls and boys; never galloped a pony over country meadows, or gone for long walks with a beloved brother and his friends. Mama and Papa were very strict, you see, and they moved in such select circles that Clara and I were always obliged to be models of propriety.”
    The picture of such a restricted way of life appalled Zoe, although she could not but wonder that anyone would judge Lady Buttershaw to be a “model of propriety.” She saw that formidable grande dame seldom during these early days, for Lady Buttershaw seemed always to be rushing off to some function or other, usually with Hackham, her personal footman, in attendance. On the few occasions that they met, Lady Buttershaw would have many suggestions for the improvement of Zoe’s dress and deportment. She also showed an interest in life at Travisford, but her remarks were invariably disparaging, and she lost no opportunity to criticize Mr. Grainger and his son, both of whom she felt had been remiss in failing to ensure that Zoe be properly instructed and given a London Season. Zoe found herself constantly obliged to defend her father and to regale the lady with accounts of Travis’ scholarly achievements and of her sure belief that honours must attend his diplomatic career. This became rather tiresome. Fortunately, however, her ladyship’s voice was exercised the instant she crossed the threshold. Zoe noticed that when those piercing tones were heard, the passages would quickly empty of all the servants who dared escape, and she lost no time in following their example.
    The promised rides with Lady Julia had not as yet materialized, but Zoe kept busily occupied. The house was a regular museum of artifacts, all having to do with England’s history, and the large part the family Yerville appeared to have played in it. She spent her free time in wandering about the mansion, and wrote long letters home and to her brother, telling of her discoveries.
    After the first excruciating evening spent dining with and being “educated” by Lady Buttershaw, she was not sorry to be left to take her meals alone. But the breakfast parlour was large and silent, the butler waited on her with quiet efficiency, and she found solitude to be, after all, not much of an improvement over Lady Buttershaw’s trumpeted monologues.
    Following an excellent meal on her fourth evening at Yerville Hall, she wandered into the book room. It was vast and chilly, with no fire on the hearth. The room was not pitch dark, for the moon was up and painting the rug with its silver rays, but there was no sign of the lackey who should have come to light candles for her.
    She crossed to the window and looked out. The street was bright with the glow of the flambeaux that blazed on each side of the entrance. The square was deserted, and the little garden at the centre looked dark and mysterious. A coach came rattling up the street, and stopped outside. The footman sprang down and threw open the door, and three gentlemen alighted. They were laughing and talking cheerily, and Zoe watched them, envying their good-fellowship as they started up the steps. She could tell when the front doors were opened, for the increased light shone across the pavement and cobblestones, and deepened the shadows in the central garden. How differently things appeared at night time; one of those shadows might