Kura! This isn’t a large house. We only have a handyman and a gardener who takes care of the stables too. I don’t think either of them would care to tie your corset.”
Kura did not dignify this with a response and instead moped her way upstairs. Fleurette shook her head and turned to Gwyneira.
“Just what kind of ideas does the child have? She is clearly holding out for something better than us common folk. I’ve caught on to that. But you don’t really allow her a lady’s maid of her own?”
Gwyneira shrugged in resignation. “She puts a lot of value on her appearance. And Miss Witherspoon supports her in that.”
Fleurette rolled her eyes. “I’d fire this Miss Witherspoon first thing.”
As Gwyneira readied herself for a dispute with her daughter like the one she had been having with James for years, she warmed up more and more to Helen’s suggestion. Some time in England could only do Kura good! If she was still too young for the conservatory, she could probably find a girls’ school. Gwyneira thought of Kura’s reaction to uniforms and a strict schedule. Would Kura not hate her for the rest of her life?
William arrived punctually, and his second look at Kura left him just as awestruck as the day before. What was more, this time the girl was not wearing a simple riding outfit but an elegantly tailored dress, red with colorful flourishes. The luscious colors suited her, making her skin look even more radiant and creating a pleasing contrast to her luxurious black hair. She was wearing her hair parted down the middle; Kura had braided a few strands on each side of her face and tied the braids together at the back of her head. The simple hairstyle emphasized her classically beautiful features: her high cheekbones, enticing eyes, and generally exotic mystique. William Martyn could have fallen on his knees before so much beauty.
The rules of decorum dictated, however, that he look after Elaine first, since she had been assigned to him as a dining partner. Because she would already be cooking for so many anyway, Fleurette had begged Helen and her longtime friend Leonard McDunn, the police constable, to join them, so that she would have some of her own friends there. As the stocky, mustached Leonard led Helen very attentively to the table, William hurried to do likewise with Elaine. George, who had lost all interest in his beautiful cousin, was to be Kura’s dinner partner. As he adjusted her chair, William realized with delight that George had set her directly across from him.
“Have you habituated yourself to Queenstown yet, Miss Warden?” he asked when decorum finally permitted general table conversation.
Kura smiled. “Please, call me Kura.” Her voice transformed even the simplest sentence into the melody of a song all her own. Even Leonard McDunn looked up from his appetizer when the girl responded. “And, to answer your question, I’m accustomed to the expanse of the plains. The landscape here is lovely, but its vibrations are completely different.”
Gwyneira frowned.
Vibrations
? Elaine and George each stifled a giggle.
William beamed. “Oh, I know what you mean. Every landscape has its own melody. Sometimes, in my dreams, I hear Connemara sing.”
Elaine cast a confused glance at him.
“So you’re from Ireland, young man?” Leonard asked, clearly trying to move the conversation back to a more general plane. “What’s going to come out of this Home Rule Bill that everyone is talking about? And what is the situation in the country? You appear to have the greatest rabble-rousers under control, of course. The last I heard of the Fenians, they were calling for an invasion of Canada to set up Ireland anew over there. A harebrained scheme, if you ask me.”
William nodded. “I agree with you there, sir. Ireland is Ireland. You cannot rebuild it somewhere else.”
“Ireland has a musical range all its own,” Kura said. “Its melodies are melancholy, but display a stirring
Kura did not dignify this with a response and instead moped her way upstairs. Fleurette shook her head and turned to Gwyneira.
“Just what kind of ideas does the child have? She is clearly holding out for something better than us common folk. I’ve caught on to that. But you don’t really allow her a lady’s maid of her own?”
Gwyneira shrugged in resignation. “She puts a lot of value on her appearance. And Miss Witherspoon supports her in that.”
Fleurette rolled her eyes. “I’d fire this Miss Witherspoon first thing.”
As Gwyneira readied herself for a dispute with her daughter like the one she had been having with James for years, she warmed up more and more to Helen’s suggestion. Some time in England could only do Kura good! If she was still too young for the conservatory, she could probably find a girls’ school. Gwyneira thought of Kura’s reaction to uniforms and a strict schedule. Would Kura not hate her for the rest of her life?
William arrived punctually, and his second look at Kura left him just as awestruck as the day before. What was more, this time the girl was not wearing a simple riding outfit but an elegantly tailored dress, red with colorful flourishes. The luscious colors suited her, making her skin look even more radiant and creating a pleasing contrast to her luxurious black hair. She was wearing her hair parted down the middle; Kura had braided a few strands on each side of her face and tied the braids together at the back of her head. The simple hairstyle emphasized her classically beautiful features: her high cheekbones, enticing eyes, and generally exotic mystique. William Martyn could have fallen on his knees before so much beauty.
The rules of decorum dictated, however, that he look after Elaine first, since she had been assigned to him as a dining partner. Because she would already be cooking for so many anyway, Fleurette had begged Helen and her longtime friend Leonard McDunn, the police constable, to join them, so that she would have some of her own friends there. As the stocky, mustached Leonard led Helen very attentively to the table, William hurried to do likewise with Elaine. George, who had lost all interest in his beautiful cousin, was to be Kura’s dinner partner. As he adjusted her chair, William realized with delight that George had set her directly across from him.
“Have you habituated yourself to Queenstown yet, Miss Warden?” he asked when decorum finally permitted general table conversation.
Kura smiled. “Please, call me Kura.” Her voice transformed even the simplest sentence into the melody of a song all her own. Even Leonard McDunn looked up from his appetizer when the girl responded. “And, to answer your question, I’m accustomed to the expanse of the plains. The landscape here is lovely, but its vibrations are completely different.”
Gwyneira frowned.
Vibrations
? Elaine and George each stifled a giggle.
William beamed. “Oh, I know what you mean. Every landscape has its own melody. Sometimes, in my dreams, I hear Connemara sing.”
Elaine cast a confused glance at him.
“So you’re from Ireland, young man?” Leonard asked, clearly trying to move the conversation back to a more general plane. “What’s going to come out of this Home Rule Bill that everyone is talking about? And what is the situation in the country? You appear to have the greatest rabble-rousers under control, of course. The last I heard of the Fenians, they were calling for an invasion of Canada to set up Ireland anew over there. A harebrained scheme, if you ask me.”
William nodded. “I agree with you there, sir. Ireland is Ireland. You cannot rebuild it somewhere else.”
“Ireland has a musical range all its own,” Kura said. “Its melodies are melancholy, but display a stirring
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