slowly and rapped softly at the door. Several few moments passed before a middle-aged woman in a white mobcap answered the door.
Henrietta raised her chin and cleared her throat. “I have come to call upon Mrs. Mathieson. Is she at home?”
The servant stepped back eyeing her curiously. “Whom shall I say calls?”
“I beg your pardon. My name is Henrietta Houghton from Bishop’s Castle, Shropshire. Although I have not met Mrs. Mathieson, she and I have a mutual acquaintance in Lieutenant Julian Price.” The servant’s eyes flickered at the mention of Julian’s name. “Perhaps you have met him?”
“Aye,” she confessed. “I be acquainted with the gentleman.”
Henrietta forced a smile. “Would you please tell your mistress that I would very much appreciate a moment of her time.”
The servant hesitated before taking a step back and opening the door. “Please to come with me, Miss.” Henrietta followed the servant’s bustling gray skirts into a small drawing room furnished tastefully in pale brocades. “If ye’ll wait here, I will inquire of the missus if she be receiving.”
Henrietta perched nervously on the edge of the buff-colored settle, her gaze focused sightlessly on the ormolu mantel clock as the minutes ticked by. Her attention riveted to the door at the sound of approaching slippered feet.
Henrietta rose with a tentative smile. “Mrs. Mathieson?” The modestly dressed and graceful woman who greeted her was a far cry from the tawdry tart that Henrietta had imaged.
“Please call me Muriel.” She approached and took Henrietta’s hand.
Even in her plain day gown, Muriel Mathieseon was quite a beautiful woman, far more attractive than Henrietta. To her dismay, Henrietta’s fears of an unfavorable comparison with Julian’s mistress were suddenly magnified.
“I realize this is exceedingly awkward,” Henrietta began, “but I have some questions that only you can answer.”
“Questions?” Her dark brows rose. “About Julian?”
“Yes. Or more specifically, about you and and Julian.”
Her green eyes narrowed. “I see. You wish to know if your husband-to-be intends to be faithful to you.”
“Husband-to-be?” Henrietta repeated. “How do you know about our engagement?”
“Julian informed me.”
Henrietta’s stomach knotted. “So you have seen him recently?”
“I have. He came to call just last evening.”
“Last evening.” He’d called on his mistress the very day they’d become engaged? The knot tightened and rose higher to squeeze her chest. “I see,” Henrietta replied tightly. “Then it appears my question has been answered. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Mathieson.”
“Oh, my dear,” Muriel exclaimed. “Please don’t go! It was not at all what you think!”
Henrietta froze. “What do you mean?”
“Julian came to tell me of his forthcoming marriage . . . and to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye?” Henrietta repeated, feeling more like a parrot every passing moment.
“Yes. Given his upcoming marriage, he thought it best to end our . . . friendship. I could not agree more. Had he not already chosen to do so, rest assured that I would have.”
“You would have ended it?” Henrietta asked in surprise. Muriel Mathieson wasn’t at all the kind of woman she had imagined.
“Indeed,” Muriel affirmed. “I may be morally compromised in some respects, but I do not condone marital infidelity. I believe Julian’s actions indicate that he feels the same way. I don’t pretend to know anything about your relationship, but it appears he wishes to begin the marriage on the right footing.”
“That is most reasurring,” Henrietta said. “Thank you again for your time.”
“Please, Miss Houghton.” Murial touched her arm. “I’m certain Julian would be beside himself if he knew you had come here, but since you have, might I offer you some refreshment? Some tea, perhaps? I admit I have wondered many things about you.”
“ You wondered about
Henrietta raised her chin and cleared her throat. “I have come to call upon Mrs. Mathieson. Is she at home?”
The servant stepped back eyeing her curiously. “Whom shall I say calls?”
“I beg your pardon. My name is Henrietta Houghton from Bishop’s Castle, Shropshire. Although I have not met Mrs. Mathieson, she and I have a mutual acquaintance in Lieutenant Julian Price.” The servant’s eyes flickered at the mention of Julian’s name. “Perhaps you have met him?”
“Aye,” she confessed. “I be acquainted with the gentleman.”
Henrietta forced a smile. “Would you please tell your mistress that I would very much appreciate a moment of her time.”
The servant hesitated before taking a step back and opening the door. “Please to come with me, Miss.” Henrietta followed the servant’s bustling gray skirts into a small drawing room furnished tastefully in pale brocades. “If ye’ll wait here, I will inquire of the missus if she be receiving.”
Henrietta perched nervously on the edge of the buff-colored settle, her gaze focused sightlessly on the ormolu mantel clock as the minutes ticked by. Her attention riveted to the door at the sound of approaching slippered feet.
Henrietta rose with a tentative smile. “Mrs. Mathieson?” The modestly dressed and graceful woman who greeted her was a far cry from the tawdry tart that Henrietta had imaged.
“Please call me Muriel.” She approached and took Henrietta’s hand.
Even in her plain day gown, Muriel Mathieseon was quite a beautiful woman, far more attractive than Henrietta. To her dismay, Henrietta’s fears of an unfavorable comparison with Julian’s mistress were suddenly magnified.
“I realize this is exceedingly awkward,” Henrietta began, “but I have some questions that only you can answer.”
“Questions?” Her dark brows rose. “About Julian?”
“Yes. Or more specifically, about you and and Julian.”
Her green eyes narrowed. “I see. You wish to know if your husband-to-be intends to be faithful to you.”
“Husband-to-be?” Henrietta repeated. “How do you know about our engagement?”
“Julian informed me.”
Henrietta’s stomach knotted. “So you have seen him recently?”
“I have. He came to call just last evening.”
“Last evening.” He’d called on his mistress the very day they’d become engaged? The knot tightened and rose higher to squeeze her chest. “I see,” Henrietta replied tightly. “Then it appears my question has been answered. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Mathieson.”
“Oh, my dear,” Muriel exclaimed. “Please don’t go! It was not at all what you think!”
Henrietta froze. “What do you mean?”
“Julian came to tell me of his forthcoming marriage . . . and to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye?” Henrietta repeated, feeling more like a parrot every passing moment.
“Yes. Given his upcoming marriage, he thought it best to end our . . . friendship. I could not agree more. Had he not already chosen to do so, rest assured that I would have.”
“You would have ended it?” Henrietta asked in surprise. Muriel Mathieson wasn’t at all the kind of woman she had imagined.
“Indeed,” Muriel affirmed. “I may be morally compromised in some respects, but I do not condone marital infidelity. I believe Julian’s actions indicate that he feels the same way. I don’t pretend to know anything about your relationship, but it appears he wishes to begin the marriage on the right footing.”
“That is most reasurring,” Henrietta said. “Thank you again for your time.”
“Please, Miss Houghton.” Murial touched her arm. “I’m certain Julian would be beside himself if he knew you had come here, but since you have, might I offer you some refreshment? Some tea, perhaps? I admit I have wondered many things about you.”
“ You wondered about
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