A Porcelain Viscountess by Hazel Linwood
Chapter 7
When Phoebe woke, she sat bolt upright in bed, flicking her head back and forth about her chamber. She was half expecting her husband to be standing in the doorway, ready to take her home, probably grasping her wrist painfully all the way. Yet he wasn’t there, her fears had just been nightmares. Instead, all around her was the opulent chamber Hayward had given her.
The cream walls were made of paneled wood and decorated with landscape paintings of green hills and lakes. The ceiling of the room was lofted high above her head and swirled in white molded plaster. Around her, the furniture was just as cream or white, with the occasional accent of gold dappled throughout, on the bed curtains, on the rug before the mantelpiece fire and on a rococo-style settee placed in front of the window.
Phoebe jumped from the bed, unable to let go of her fear just yet and ran toward the settee. Kneeling on the cushioned seat, she peered out of the window. To the far right, she could just see the long, pebbled driveway, where she thought she might see Graham, marching down the drive to come and collect her, yet he wasn’t there.
Her eyes flitted to the view instead, looking over the grand pond that was surrounded by a renaissance style garden, with a fountain in the middle and great luscious borders of flowers.
“I feel I could wake from this dream at any moment,” she whispered to herself.
“Oh, I hope not,” Louisa’s voice disturbed her and made her flick her head round. The maid had just appeared through the door, carrying a fresh bowl of water. “Then I might have to wake up too.”
“Can you believe it, Louisa?” Phoebe said, jumping off the seat and rushing toward her. As Louisa placed the bowl down on a sideboard, Phoebe took hold of her maid’s hands and twirled her round in a circle. “I’m just so happy, so relieved that I don’t have to walk down those stairs this morning and be greeted by Graham’s face!”
“Any more of this, my Lady, and you’ll make me ill!” Louisa laughed, bringing the two of them to a stop.
“I’m sorry,” Phoebe said hurriedly with a giggle. “I’m just so excited.”
“Well, having a handsome duke greeting you in the morning might do that to any lady,” Louisa said with a conspiratorial whisper.
Phoebe froze above the bowl of water where she was splashing her face and turned back to Louisa.
“You noticed he was handsome too?” she asked, almost nervous with her words.
“How could I not?” Louisa said, hurrying toward the cupboard to pull out a gown for the day. “I have eyes.”
“True,” Phoebe sighed, looking back down at the bowl of water. “I suppose any woman would have to have a lot of problems with their eyesight not to see it.”
“Now you get to have breakfast with him. Lucky indeed!” Louisa laughed.
“Wait, Louisa,” Phoebe toweled off her face, feeling more and more discomforted. “I am indebted to Hayward, but that is it. I am already married, I could never…” she trailed off, waving a hand in the air to emphasize her point.
“I know, my Lady, I’m just having fun with you. Now, which one would you like to wear? The white or the blue?” Louisa held up two gowns, but Phoebe was distracted as she pointed to the blue one. She was thinking of Hayward’s good humor from the night before and his incredible kindness to do what he was doing for her. How was she ever supposed to repay his kindness? “Are you sure, my Lady?” Louisa’s question brought her back to the moment. “You like the white one more.”
“I do,” Phoebe confirmed, crossing the room toward Louisa, “but my bruises are still noticeable. The blue one will cover them up more.”
The mention of bruises seemed to take any smile out of the room. In perfect silence, they hurried to dress Phoebe, both lost in their own worlds for a minute. When it came to tying another ribbon around her throat to hide the bruises there, Phoebe paused for a time with the ribbon in her hand and stared at her reflection instead. It was still bright purple and blue, with Graham’s fingermarks clear across her skin.
“I only wish there was more I could do for you, my Lady,” Louisa’s voice made Phoebe snap her gaze away from the bruise, up to her maid.
“More? Louisa, you are my lifeline. Without you this last year, goodness knows what I could be like, probably very miserable indeed,” she said, smiling at the maid. “You have kept me sane through all of this.”
“I just wish I could repay your kindness to me,” Louisa said, helping to tie the ribbon.
“There is no repayment needed, remember that, my friend,” Phoebe said softly, remembering how she had first found Louisa, at the hands of a man as violent as Graham was. Phoebe was fortunate that she had been in a position to help Louisa at the time. “For the first time, I have real hope for the both of us.”
Phoebe connected their gazes in the reflection in the mirror, smiling at her maid. “We have a different future ahead of us now, Louisa. One where neither of us will need to fear waking up in the morning.”
* * *
Francis was already waiting at the breakfast table, having started his meal some time ago as he was an early riser when Lady Ridlington appeared. His gaze flicked up to her in the doorway where she stood there nervously, ringing her hands together for a minute.
“You are standing in my doorway like a mouse, Lady R-Isabella,” he cursed his near slip up, casting a gaze back to the butler who was just placing a fresh pot of tea on the table for him.
Lady Ridlington smiled up at him and took a step into the room.
“Forgive me, I guess I just…” she trailed off, looking nervously around, urging Francis to leave off his meal and give her his full attention. He hadn’t considered last night what else could be going on in Lady Ridlington’s home beyond the beatings, but the fact that she was approaching the breakfast table as though it were some sort of quandary made him worry.
Was her husband controlling, perhaps of where she sat at the table? Or maybe even of what she ate? He’d heard of such men.
Today, that changes.
“Please, sit wherever you like,” he said, standing to his feet and beckoning her further into the room. She offered a small smile and started walking toward the chair that sat at a right angle to him at the table. He duly helped slide out her chair and push it back in again. “Now, quite frankly my cook has prepared every meal under the sun for you this morning.”
“I’ve never seen such a display,” she said, her eyes wide as she looked around the table that was full of dishes.
“Apparently my cook was rather dismayed I did not inform her of my guest in advance. Without knowing what you like, she has taken a guess, and promptly made every breakfast I think I have ever had,” Francis said, chuckling as he returned to his chair. He was somewhat relieved when the butler left the room, promising to come back soon with some more milk.
Lady Ridlington’s eyes perused the different dishes for a minute.
“Would it be all right if I had a little bit of everything?” she asked him, looking at him expectantly.
“You need not ask me, you know,” he said, shaking his head. “You can merely help yourself to anything you want.”
“I can?” she asked, looking more startled than when he had said the night before he would help her after all.
“Goodness knows what kind of house your husband was running,” he whispered to her, just in case there were any servants standing beyond the door. “Please, eat anything you like.”
Her smile grew even greater. Just as the night before, Francis felt that lurch in his stomach at seeing that smile.
That is not a good thing! She is married. Any liking for the lady would be…well, it would be complicated to say the least.
Trying to dispel the power her smiles had over him, he pulled his newspaper toward him on the table and tried to be interested in the latest news stories. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he could see exactly what she helped herself to. She cut tiny slices of plum cake and pound cake, then there was fresh bread and butter too. There were also new peaches and grapes that she added to her plate, until it was rather full. Seeing her smile as she tucked in, he once more tried to focus on the newspaper.
After a few minutes of silence, Francis began to feel the awkwardness of the room. He barely needed to glance Lady Ridlington’s way to see she was feeling a little uncomfortable too, wriggling in her seat. They were two strangers thrust together in an unusual situation; it was hardly surprising they weren’t clear on how to talk to each other.
Francis’ memory slipped back to the dance the night before and how easy it had been to talk with her then. He wanted that back, and there was no reason he couldn’t have it. Just as long as he kept his infatuation with seeing her smile at bay.
“Well, I’m guessing you feel as odd as I do about this situation,” Francis decided the best way to tackle the situation was to confront it. Lady Ridlington looked up from her pound cake with her eyes wide.
“You could say that,” she said with humor. “It is all a little strange to be here.”
“I suppose it is. Is there any way I can make you feel more at ease about it?”
“The pound cake is accomplishing that very well for you. It’s delicious!” she said as she dug her fork back in. He laughed warmly at her words. With that, the awkwardness in the room was gone.
“Well, for now we do not know how long you will be here, so I suggest we treat it as a chance for you to enjoy yourself. Completely. With no inhibitions whatsoever,” he said with cheer, watching as she sat back in her chair, clearly marveling at the idea.
“I thought you said last night you were off to Egypt soon. I wouldn’t wish to outstay my welcome,” she said hurriedly, glancing back to the door to look for any servants that might disturb them.
“Not yet,” he assured her. “And I will not go whilst you are still in need of help, my Lady.” His words came out deeper than he had meant them, but the response was delightful indeed. Her cheeks began to blush warmly, lighting up those pretty features of hers. “So, back to the matter at hand.”
“What matter?” she asked, taking another bite of her cake.
“I will not have you sad here whilst you are my guest. I wish you to be happy, to enjoy yourself! What would you like to do today?” he asked, watching as she reached for the teacup on the table. Her hand shook slightly as she did so, making him frown a little. “I have made you nervous again,” he said, pointing at her hand. She promptly placed her teacup down and hid her hand under the table. “Why did I make you nervous?”
“It’s just…” she paused, clearly thinking through her words. “I don’t very often have a choice in what I do.”
“That is about to change,” he said firmly, gesturing to the table. “For starters, you can stay here and eat as much as you like, but Cook does a fabulous dinner in the evenings, so I warn you not to fill up too much.” His jest made her laugh softly. “As for what you do today, you can do anything at all that you wish to do. Anything! Say the word.”
She paused and looked up to the ceiling, evidently debating her options for a moment. After a minute, she lowered her gaze and picked up her teacup once more.
“Before I married, I used to go riding a lot,” she said softly. “Every day, in fact.”
“Why did you stop?” Francis asked.
“My husband didn’t think it was a suitable hobby for a young lady,” she said, not lifting her gaze to his.
“That’s absurd!” Francis laughed. He could see his response had surprised her as her gaze darted up to his. “He really said such a thing?” She nodded in answer. “When I was travelling, I went through Spain, where they are known for their impressive horse skills. I saw a travelling circus where their horse riders perform acrobatics on the horses.”
“Truly?” she asked, turning more to him in her chair as her lips parted in wonder. “What was that like?”
“Awe-inspiring,” he chose the word carefully. “Frightening too, I spent most of the time terrified that one of the acrobats would have an accident at any moment, then it was all the more thrilling when they pulled off their trick. My point is, every single one of those acrobats was a lady. I have never seen a gentlemen ride as well as they did. I would quite happily argue with your husband on his opinion of horse riding.”
Lady Ridlington smiled as though she were trying to hold back a laugh.
“I used to ride every day when I was younger,” she went on. “If you have a stable here, I would be grateful to borrow a horse, just to ride around the estate. I promise not to go beyond.”
“Of course, you may,” he said. “I’ll come with you.” He wasn’t sure what had prompted him to make the declaration, but it surprised him as much as it clearly surprised Lady Ridlington who sat straighter in her chair.
Why did I say I would come? Perhaps I wish to torture myself with more of Lady Ridlington’s sweet smiles? This should be interesting.
