Parting the Veil by Paulette Kennedy
CHAPTER 27
Dressed in worn linen dungarees, Eliza hefted a length of MacCulloch tartan over her shoulder, pins bristling from the cushion on her wrist. Shirley held the tail of the fabric as Eliza climbed the ladder to reach the ballroom’s crown molding. There she gathered the satin in billowing puffs, pinning the bunting to the trim. She dropped the remaining lengths of green-and-red plaid and left them to pool on the freshly waxed floor.
The preparations for their ghillies ball had gone swimmingly. The guest list had been made, the menu was in its final stages of planning, and they’d ordered a magnificent three-tiered cake from the best bakery in the county. Polly and Sarah had shown up that afternoon to help, and Eliza had put them to work on the invitations. Polly was addressing each placard with her immaculate penmanship, then handing them off to Sarah, who sealed each envelope with red wax. They sat in the corner of the ballroom at a narrow table, talking in quiet whispers as Shirley and Eliza bustled about.
“His lordship will be right pleased with you for going to all the effort, mum,” Shirley said, poking branches of spiny thistle and purple heather into a vase. “It’s a noble thing to open a great house to guests. Reflects well on your station.”
“I certainly hope he’ll be pleased,” Eliza said, climbing down from the ladder to survey her work. She’d learned not to predict her husband’s reactions to anything. “It’s a bit of a coming-out party for us both.”
Polly looked up from her writing. “You’ve got the house looking grand again. It needed a woman’s touch.”
“Shirley deserves most of the credit, if I’m to be honest.” At this, Shirley clucked and shook her head. “You know,” Eliza continued, “it’s funny when I think about it, but I believe I fell in love with the house before I fell in love with Malcolm. Living here is a bit like opening up a present every day.”
“Don’t the ghosts bother you?” asked Polly.
Eliza feigned ignorance. “Ghosts?”
“Sarah and I have been visiting your Freddie. He won’t tell us what happened, but rumors are flying about town that he was injured by an evil spirit. There’s been rumors about ghosts for years, though.”
“Oh, you know how people like to talk.” Eliza laughed dryly. “How is Freddie? I’ve been so involved with planning this party I haven’t been round to see him.”
“He’s recovering well. Clarence says he’ll be out of hospital soon.”
“Oh, that’s fantastic news!”
“It’s mostly thanks to your sister. The hospital is much improved for having her.”
“Polly’s often enough about the ward to know,” Sarah said, winking. “Isn’t that right, Miss Whitby?”
Eliza caught on, her eyes widening in surprise. “Polly! Have you taken a shine to the Irish boy, after all?”
Polly shifted in her seat, a red stain creeping up her fair bosom to her chin. “Well. He’s very charming.”
“And handsome,” Sarah prodded.
Polly’s face grew scarlet as a poppy. “Well, at any rate, one must move on.” She rested her pen on the table and flexed her fingers. “Speaking of moving on, I’m quite relieved to see Lord and Lady Eastleigh aren’t on your guest list.”
Eliza laughed, picking up a dustcloth and running it around the frame of Ada’s portrait, its corners carved with acorns. “If I never see Una and Charles again, it will be too soon.”
“Do you know? They bought another townhome in London,” Polly said. “In Hyde Park. Now they have two. Una must have come with a healthy dowry.”
“I daresay bought is a generous term,” Eliza scoffed. Stolen would be more apropos. The forfeited townhouse was still a sore subject under their eaves. “You know as well as I that he only married Una to spite Malcolm.”
“Well. Enough about that,” Sarah said, clearing her throat. “Do you have a tiara to wear to the ball, Eliza? If not, you can wear one of mine. I have a lovely emerald one that would look ravishing with your hair.”
The doorbell chimed from downstairs. “I wonder who that could be?” Eliza said. “We aren’t expecting visitors.”
“I’ll go see who it is,” Sarah said, standing and stretching her arms behind her head. “I could do with a smoke by the by.”
A few minutes later, she returned, her eyebrows drawn together. “I’m so sorry. Turner just got your husband from the library. I’m not sure what’s going on, but he had an official telegram in hand. From the look on Malcolm’s face, it seemed urgent.”
Eliza went into the hall and caught the sound of Turner’s wavering tenor on the steps. She hovered near the doorway of the ballroom, listening.
“What’ll we do then, sir? Shall we send her ladyship with you?”
“As we’ve lost the townhome, she’ll need to stay on to manage things here in my absence, Turner. Just mind the south wing stays locked.”
She swept onto the landing and into their view. “What’s going on, Malcolm?”
Malcolm’s head jerked toward her in surprise. His mouth flinched, then settled into a taut line. “The Boer army is on the move. We’ve been given an ultimatum by their president, Paul Kruger, to remove our troops from the Transvaal border. It’s likely we will not comply with his demands.” He offered the telegram to Eliza. “It’s likely it will result in conflict.”
She scanned the brief message. “We’re going to war?”
“It very much looks like it,” Malcolm answered. “I’ll need to report to Parliament. I’ll leave for London first thing tomorrow.”
“But, our ball . . .”
Malcolm’s jaw clenched in irritation. “Will have to wait, darling. I’m so sorry.”
Alongside her disappointment, a thought needled in the back of Eliza’s consciousness. The south wing. “Will I be left alone, then, to manage the house?”
“Turner and Duncan will remain here with you, but yes. For a time. I have every confidence I can rely on you to maintain the household. I’ve no doubt it will flourish under your care.”
Eliza sucked in a breath to fight the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Though it may be a challenge, husband, I will endeavor to do my best.”