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Elizabeth looked down, absently noticing that the card was made of the finest, most expensive of papers.
Mrs. Blake Ravenscroft
“I assume she’s the wife of the man we met yesterday?” Susan asked.
“Yes. Her name is Caroline.” Elizabeth ran her hand through her hair, which she hadn’t even managed to pin up yet. “She’s a very nice person, but truly, I’m not up to visitors just now, and—”
“Pardon,” Susan interrupted, “but I don’t think she’ll leave.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I believe her exact words were, ‘I imagine she doesn’t want visitors, but I’m happy to wait until she feels otherwise.’ Then she sat down, pulled out a book—”
“Dear God, it wasn’t HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS, was it?”
“No, it was black, actually, and I think it must have been some sort of journal because she started to write in it. But as I was saying,” Susan added, “then she looked up at me and said, ‘You needn’t worry. I can entertain myself.’”
“She said that?”
Susan nodded and shrugged. “So I’m not worrying. She seems perfectly happy to scribble in her book. I did put a pot of tea on, though, just for good manners.”
“She’s really not going to leave, is she?”
Susan shook her head. “She seems a most stubborn woman. I don’t think she’s going to leave until she sees you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she brought a change of clothing.”
“I suppose I had better dress my hair and go down,” Elizabeth said with a sigh.
Susan reached over to Elizabeth’s small vanity table and picked up a hairbrush. “I’ll help you.”
Elizabeth assumed this was a ploy to get information out of her; Susan had never offered to dress her hair before. But the bristly brush felt so nice on her scalp, Elizabeth decided just to go along with it. It was a rare moment indeed when someone waited upon her.
Elizabeth counted the swipes the brush made through her hair before Susan started asking questions. One swipe, two swipes, three swipes, four—ah, she paused slightly before the fifth, she must be getting ready for something.…
“Does Mrs. Ravenscroft’s visit have anything to do with the events of last night?” Susan asked.
Five swipes. Elizabeth was impressed. She’d never thought Susan would last past three.
Susan pulled the brush through Elizabeth’s hair again. “Lizzie? Did you hear me?”
“I’m sure I don’t know the reason for Mrs. Ravenscroft’s visit,” Elizabeth lied.
“Hmmph.”
“Ow!”
“Sorry.”
“Give me that!” Elizabeth snatched the brush away from her sister. “And the hairpins, too. I don’t trust you with any sharp objects.”
Susan stepped back, crossed her arms, and frowned.
“It’s difficult to concentrate with you glowering at me like that,” Elizabeth muttered.
“Good.”
“Susan Mary Hotchkiss!”
“Don’t talk to me like you’re my mother.”
