Caught in a Cornish Scandal by Eleanor Webster (best books for 20 year olds TXT) 📕

‘I...’ Mrs Lansdowne, briefly put down the teapot. ‘Yes, of course, we always enjoy company. That would be very pleasant.’

‘Thank you,’ Frances said.

‘We are so very happy to help,’ Millie said. ‘Truly.’

‘But you will be very cramped. We live quite simply, being in mourning. Perhaps we could clean out the nursery,’ Mrs Lansdowne suggested. ‘Flora, could you—’

‘Please, that isn’t necessary,’ Sam said, noting his sister’s increased agitation, the movement of her hands as they twisted nervously within the fabric of her gown.

‘I insist. It will cheer me up. I have been lachrymose lately. It is a nice enough room, quite large with a bay window facing the sea so that one can see it in the distance. I will have the servants clean it out immediately.’

‘No, please—’ Frances tapped her foot. She worked her mouth as though chewing words she seemed unable to say. Fear flickered across her face as her gaze darted jerkily. Sam was so strongly reminded of a cornered animal that he half feared she would bolt from the room.

Just as he was wondering how he could possibly intervene in the domestic arrangements of another family, Millie spoke in her competent manner.

‘It is a lovely idea, Mother, but we no longer have servants, only Flora, and she has not yet mastered the art of duplication. Moreover, much of the furniture has been removed. Mrs Ludlow, would you mind most awfully if we leave the nursery closed? Perhaps Noah could sleep in your bedchamber or with your nursemaid?’

‘With me,’ Frances said quickly. ‘That would be much preferred.’

‘Really?’ Mrs Lansdowne said. ‘How unusual. I was an absolutely doting mother, as my girls can attest, but I was quite glad to hand them over to the nursemaid. I have a sensitive disposition and suffer greatly from my nerves, you see.’

‘Indeed, but having a guest will be a tonic. It will be lovely to have you to stay,’ Lillian Lansdowne said, smiling at Frances. ‘Mother and I always love talking about fashion or London.’

‘I have not been to London for a while,’ Frances said, softly.

‘No matter, we have not either.’

Sam had not really noticed Millie’s younger sister previously. He saw now that she was beautiful, the type of beauty that portrait painters would like: blue eyed, blonde-haired and with that vaunted English skin. He could see why Harwood would be interested, although he also hated the thought. She had a classical beauty, combined with a fresh-faced innocence, of a type not usually found among concubines or harlots.

Millie was quite different from her sister. Her hair was dark and even now had an untamed quality with several strands falling free. Her skin was also pale, but her eyes were a deeper blue. The effect, therefore, was not that of a China doll, but rather that of the mystic. Despite the demure dress, there was still something different about her. It was as though she was privy to a cosmic secret which allowed her to view society’s conventions, the trappings of this life, with an amused indifference.

These musing were interrupted by the unpleasant recognition that everyone appeared to be looking at him, as though expecting some response.

‘Er...pardon? So sorry, my thoughts must have wandered,’ he said.

This comment produced a rather disconcerting smirk from the younger sister and a disapproving glower from the servant who, as far as he knew, he had never wronged.

‘I was merely asking,’ Mrs Lansdowne said, ‘how you and my daughter are acquainted?’

‘Ah...well...we met...’ Sam paused and was again relieved when Millie swiftly intervened as his mind seemed to be working in a slow, pedestrian manner.

‘Mrs Ludlow and I have met at church and she promised to introduce us to her brother.’

‘Really? I do not recall you going often to church, dear,’ Mrs Lansdowne said.

‘It was when you were not feeling quite yourself.’

‘Yes, my nerves. I was better when we lived in London. I do not like the sea, you know,’ Mrs Lansdowne acknowledged to the company in general.

‘I hate the sea!’ Frances said suddenly. The fierce words jarred through the room. Her voice was too loud and her hands too tightly clenched in her lap.

There was a momentary pause and everyone felt a certain relief when Noah broke it with a wail of hunger, requiring a sudden bustle of movement. Frances immediately picked him from the bassinet, holding him and rocking him while Millie stood, stepping to the door.

‘Mrs Ludlow, let me show you upstairs so you can make yourself comfortable.’

‘Thank you.’ Frances stepped towards the door. Noah’s sobs had lessened as, still rocking him against her, she followed Millie out of the room.

This resulted in a general exodus. Millie’s sister picked up the bassinet, following the other women out of the room, and Sam went outside to organise Banks and the nursemaid to unload Frances’s few belongings while Millie took Frances and Noah upstairs.

As Millie led Frances to her bedchamber, she had the feeling that she needed to tiptoe as though any loud noise might startle her companion.

She stopped at the door of the east bedchamber, pushing it open. ‘I hope you will be comfortable. There is a small sitting area where the nursemaid could sleep if you would like.’

‘Noah must sleep with me. We cannot be apart,’ Frances said in an anxious rush of words, her hands wrapped about the infant as though fearing someone might physically remove him from her.

‘Of course, Lil is just behind us with his bassinet. We are happy to change anything you need to accommodate you.’

‘Thank you. And—and you will not allow visitors?’ Frances asked.

‘We do not get many visitors,’ Millie said. ‘And we will ensure you are not disturbed.’

‘Thank you,’ Frances repeated.

They entered the bedchamber, and Millie was glad to see that Flora had already lit the fire so that, although bereft of paintings or rugs, the room was not without welcome. The curtains were a pretty blue, matching the bedspread, and Flora had also provided hot water and towels, a cot for the