It is for the lovely Clémence.
That was what Nathan had meant—he had seen her name. She read on, the fragile object trembling in her hand.
Her destiny is wonderful, but rare.
It surpasses all her hopes.
A stout heart, a quick mind,
Virtue, courage and a handsome form.
Her lover is blessed with them all.
She has won the fivefold prize.
He had not translated it, she had to believe him. He would not be so cruel. He had bought the pretty thing for her simply because of her name upon it, never guessing the irony. Clémence’s promised lover was everything Nathan was in her mind, everything she loved him for.
She closed the fan until all she was holding was the slender length of it between its polished brown guard sticks. Her hands closed on it, tightened. It would break so easily, just like her heart.
After a long while she laid it down and drew a silk handkerchief from her reticule, wrapped the fan in it with care and slid open the drawer beneath the dressing-table mirror. It fitted as though it had been made for it, just as Nathan had been made for her. Clemence slid the drawer shut, consigning it to darkness.
When both Eliza and a housemaid with the tea tray arrived she was standing by the window looking out over the sweeping lawns that ran down to a lake. Several couples were strolling in the sunlight, a boy was throwing a ball to a tall man and two nursemaids followed on behind, their arms full of squirming bundles.
She turned, eyes dry and aching, and smiled at Eliza. ‘I expect those are some of my cousins down there. What a lot of people to get to know.’
‘A good thing, a big family,’ Eliza observed, hands folded primly in front of her crisp white apron. The minute the other maid had gone she threw up her hands, dignity forgotten. ‘This place is huge, Miss Clemence! A palace! The King’s House on Jamaica is nothing to this—and the staff. My knees are knocking, they’re so grand, believe me. And they stare so.’
‘They are not used to seeing many people of colour,’ Clemence explained. ‘They do not mean any harm by it and you will all soon become accustomed to each other. How is Street getting on?’
‘That butler, Mr Andrewes, has taken him off to find him what he says are suitable clothes. And poor old One-Eye is chained up in the stables, though Fred says he’ll look after him.’
‘You are one of the upper servants here,’ Clemence warned her. ‘But I am a very junior member of the family and you will take my precedence. Do you understand? I am sure the housekeeper will explain how to go on.’
‘Yes, Miss Clemence. I’ll unpack your things.’ She turned to the trunk, but Clemence heard her murmur, ‘An upper servant! Me!’
Clemence had not realised how tensely she had been awaiting her aunt’s questions until the tap on the door brought her to her feet.
‘Are you rested, my dear?’
‘Yes, Aunt Amelia. This is a very lovely room, thank you.’
‘You must thank Jessica, your cousin Standon’s wife, as she is your hostess. But that can wait until dinner time. If you can spare your maid now, perhaps we should talk.’
It was quite plainly an order, however pleasantly put. ‘Yes, Aunt Amelia. Eliza, you may leave us now.’ She sat down, hands folded, trying to remember her deportment lessons.
Her aunt regarded her steadily. ‘Can you tell me what has happened, from the time your papa died? Is that possible without distressing you too much?’
‘Yes, I can do that, ma’am.’ Clemence took a deep breath and began, in as orderly and dispassionate manner as she could, to set out what had happened to her ever since the news of the loss of Raven Duchess had reached them and her world had fallen apart. She told the older woman everything except the intimate passages with Nathan—those she could hardly bear to think of, let alone speak about.
There was silence when she reached the end of her narrative, then the duchess gave a little sigh. ‘That is a terrible story. You have been very brave, my dear. Now, are you quite certain that nothing has occurred that you have been unable to tell me of?’
Her meaning was quite clear to Clemence. She felt the colour mounting in her cheeks, but she said quite steadily, ‘Did you not believe Captain Stanier?’
‘Yes, I did. No, I mean was there anything that happened that you were not able to confide in him?’
‘No.’ Clemence was beyond feeling shy about discussing this. ‘Cousin Lewis found me too scrawny to attract him unless he absolutely had to bed me and no one on the ship knew my sex.’
‘Good. Then that is one less thing to worry about,’ her aunt said briskly. Clemence relaxed, forgetting she was facing an experienced questioner. ‘Are you in love with him?’ the duchess asked casually.