Elinor looked past her at the hallway. The servants were busy wrapping black cloth around the portraits and windows, a singularly odd procedure. “I need to see my sister,” she said. “Could you take me to her?”
The young maid hesitated. “His lordship said you were to keep to your room and not wander…. ”
“If you take me directly to my sister I wouldn’t be wandering,” she said reasonably. “And if you won’t take me there I’ll find her on my own. ”
The maid looked doubtful, but she nodded. “Would you like to dress first, mademoiselle?”
“I have no clothes. ”
“I’ve filled your closet, mademoiselle. His lordship’s orders. ”
And now she was going to have to be grateful to the King of Hell for the clothes on her back. The alternative was not acceptable, not at this moment, but the last time a man had provided clothes for her had been six years ago, and the memory still had the capacity to make her ill.
“I’ll see my sister first, thank you…?”
“Jeanne-Louise,” the girl offered. “As you wish, mademoiselle. If you will come this way. ” She started toward the stairs, and Elinor pulled back.
“My sister’s room isn’t near mine?”
“No, mademoiselle. ”
That seemed extremely odd.
She could feel the servants’ eyes on her as she followed Jeanne-Louise up the winding stairs. Even with the bandages her feet were painful, but she was determined not to limp, not with so many people watching her. The marble staircase was hard and cold beneath her feet, and she gritted her teeth and climbed. Why would Lydia have been put on a different floor entirely? It made no sense.
They reached the next flight, and then Jeanne-Louise turned right, heading into another wing of the huge building. Elinor was having a hard time keeping up with her, but kept on. At that point she would have walked over coals to see her sister. In fact, it probably would have been less painful.
This wing of the house was older, smaller, the ceilings lower. The maid stopped in front of a door and knocked, then pushed it open, and Elinor quickly took stock of her surroundings.
It was a small salon off an even smaller bedroom. Pretty and comfortable, it was a far cry from the opulence of her own bedroom, which at this point seemed half a mile away. Why in the world had he separated them? And why the disparity in their rooms?
Lydia was sitting by a window, dressed in dove-gray, and she turned at the sound of the door.
“Oh, Elinor,” she cried, and rushed to her, flinging her arms around her and bursting into tears. Elinor rocked back for a moment from the strength of her, and then hugged her tightly, murmuring soft, comforting words.
After a moment she nudged her toward the sofa, afraid her feet wouldn’t hold her anymore, sinking down on it with gratitude. She glanced back at Jeanne-Louise, but she’d closed the door behind her. So much for finding her way back, though in truth, there was no reason for her to return to the gilded green room she’d woken up in. She’d left nothing behind.
It was a long time before Lydia’s tears shuddered to a halt. Elinor had already discovered a fine lawn handkerchief in the pocket of her dressing gown, and she gently dabbed at Lydia’s face. “You know, dearest, you’re the only person I know who can cry for an hour and still look absolutely radiant,” she said fondly.
“Oh, blast that,” Lydia said forcibly, and Elinor managed her own weak chuckle. “What are we going to do, Nell?”
Author: Anne Stuart
For a moment Elinor closed her eyes as the enormity of their situation washed over her. And then she pulled herself together. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll see to everything. I have a plan. ”
“You do?” Lydia said hopefully.
“I do,” she said, hoping to God that Lydia wasn’t going to ask for details. She’d come up with something soon enough, even though right now her mind was a total blank. “Have you seen the doctor today?”
“Etienne keeps asking for me,” she said, and there was no missing the reluctance in her voice. “I’ve pretended to be asleep. ”
The panic she’d squashed down began to rumble in the pit of her stomach. She’d forgotten Lydia’s look of dislike. “You did?” she said carefully. “I thought you liked Etienne. ”
Lydia managed a weak smile. “Oh, I do. I like him very much. But I know what he wants, and I cannot give him the answer he’s looking for. Not yet. ”
“What does he want, sweetheart?” she asked gently, trying to keep the despair from her voice. If Lydia hated the thought of Etienne then that was the end of it.
“To marry me,” Lydia said, making it sound like a death sentence.