The rebellion that had been growing in her since he’d proposed this plan seemed to be fading before they’d even reached her home. ‘But when we get you your inheritance, you can have the rose-covered cottage you told me about,’ he said, hoping she rallied. ‘You can return to London as a glamourous widow. You can even return for visits with your grandfather, should you wish to. But you needn’t stay.’
‘Of course,’ she said with a pitying smile. ‘How silly of me. My future will be bright and full of possibilities.’ She said nothing more, simply finished her breakfast and went down to the carriage.
A sarcastic Louisa Skeffington was not something he’d been prepared for. Over the years, he’d seen her shy, quietly happy and even a little piqued. But she’d never been as bitter as she was today. She stayed quiet for the rest of the trip, staring out the window at the passing scenery and speaking only when a question was put to her directly. But Thomas could feel her growing more tense the closer they got to her home.
It was something of a relief to know that he was not the one causing her this agitation. In fact, she did not seem to be noticing him at all. When they stopped to change horses, he reached over and clasped her hand. ‘It will be all right.’
She turned and met his gaze without flinching. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For trying.’ She looked away again and her hand slipped from his, leaving him feeling oddly disconcerted.
Several hours later, the carriage stopped before a large house of grey stone with a sweeping drive and a well-kept lawn. If Percy’s descriptions were accurate, there was a substantial garden behind it as well, and a hill that had a lovely view of the surrounding countryside.
It was not as large as the Bonham estate. Few things were. But it was a lovely place and he must remember that Tom Smith should be properly awed by his surroundings and respectful of a baron’s holdings.
He recalled that his namesake had received an inheritance from somewhere, as what good would he be to Louisa without one? Let Tom have a distant connection to a knight, then, with a fine home. He was not some provincial from the country without manners or name.
But there was no more time for elaboration. The game would begin as soon as his feet touched the ground. After a final smile to Louisa, he hopped down from the carriage and turned back, holding his hand out to guide his pretend lover safely out of the carriage.
Her fingers tightened on it as if gathering strength from him. Then, she raised her chin and allowed him to help her down and escort her up the steps to the house.
He glanced around him as they entered, noting the high ceilings and uncracked plaster painted buff and trimmed with white. Delicate tables and benches lined the walls and a wide staircase curved up towards the first-floor bedrooms.
He sensed Louisa watching him, as if waiting for an opinion.
‘It is very new,’ he said, at last.
How stupid of him. Most houses were new compared to what he was used to. The Bonham title had existed since the Battle of Hastings and the first manor had been built generations ago on the ruins of a castle. Tom Smith would know nothing of that, though.
He turned to Louisa, again and murmured, ‘It is a fine house. Very bright. And quiet.’ Strangely so. There were servants all around them, hurrying out to the carriage and coming in with bags and trunks. But their footsteps made no noise on the marble floor and when spoken to, they gave answers barely above a whisper.
‘Your grandfather must be very proud,’ he said in a normal tone of voice, only to have Louisa and Percy look at him, horrified.
When Louisa replied it was with a whisper that was even softer than her usual voice. ‘Grandfather prefers it to be quiet.’
Just then, one of the footmen carrying in the luggage dropped his end of a trunk and it hit the floor with a thud.
From somewhere above, there came a series of answering thumps, as if a cane was being pounded on a hardwood floor.
The footman cringed as if he felt the blows across his back and everyone turned to stare at him, frowning.
He shrugged an apology, picked up his end of the trunk again and followed his mate up the stairs, silent again.
Thomas looked up at the ceiling, imagining the man waiting above. He prided himself on his open mind and did not usually form an opinion of a person before meeting them. Making judgements too quickly was a weakness and often led to bigotry and unfairness.
That said, he did not need to meet Lord Skeffington to know that he did not like him. The fear on the faces of the peoplearound him, and the suspicious looks they gave each other, spoke volumes. The master of this house was a petty tyrant who was happiest when those nearest to him were most miserable.
It explained Louisa’s growing dread as they’d neared the place and the slightly frozen smile that Percy was now sporting. Thomas lowered his voice and asked, ‘Will your grandfather be coming down to welcome us? Or shall we not see him until supper?’
‘Neither, I should think,’ Louisa said in a voice so low he had to lean closer to hear it. ‘He seldom eats with the family. He is not well enough to come downstairs.’
‘I see,’ he said. But he did not. Percy had described his guardian as old, but not particularly frail.
‘But he will summon us when he is ready, I am sure,’ she said with a resigned smile.
She was clearly stealing herself for punishment of some sort. Was it physical or mental? It did not matter. He would find a way to end it. ‘I am looking forward to our interview,’ he said grimly, staring up at the ceiling again.
Several hours passed without any sign of his host. He’d been shown to a perfectly serviceable guest room. He’d changed from his travelling clothes into fresh linens and Mr Smith’s best coat to make himself ready. Then, he returned to the ground floor and hunted up Percy to get a tour of the house. The rooms he was shown were much as the foyer and bedroom had been, bright and immaculate to the point of sterility.
Perhaps it was just that he was unfamiliar with the place that made it feel so cold. When he walked through his own manor, even the rooms that were kept open for guests were filled with memories. The ornaments displayed told the story of his family and even the shabbiest of them filled him with pride.
