Page 48 of The Work of Art

As the coach advanced smoothly up the expansive drive, she could see even more how the countryside had grown up around the massive house. It was as wild and rustic as a wilderness garden, lending Heywood House an air of enchantment, as if it had been untouched by human hands for several generations, frozen in time under some magic spell.

Torches lit the way to the front entrance of the house, and as the coach slowed to a halt, a flurry of servants hurried out to meet them. In no time at all, a footman was opening the door and lowering the step. Behind him, William stood waiting to assist with the dogs.

During the course of the long journey, William had proven himself invaluable. He’d taken charge of the dogs at every stop; calming a snarling Basil, preventing Jasper and Dash from chasing after a postilion they’d taken a dislike to, and narrowly stopping Fox from biting the hand of a small child who had attempted to stroke his head. Now, he moved swiftly to apprehend the three larger dogs as they leapt from the carriage.

Arthur alighted after them, and then handed Philly down himself. “There will be a fire in the kitchen,” he said to William. “You might take them there.”

“Yes, do, William.” Philly settled Fox in the young footman’s arms. “Fox’s leg will be aching from the cold. It’s no wonder he’s been so cross.”

“I’ll look after them, ma’am,” William said. “You needn’t worry.”

Having seen to her dogs, Philly tucked her hand into Arthur’s proffered arm. He led her to the stone steps that flanked the arched entryway of Heywood House. Glancing up at him, she was startled to see an expression of pride on his face. Pride in her as his wife, she realized with amazement. She immediately resolved that she wouldn’t disappoint him.

They were met by Crofton, the elderly white-haired butler, and Mrs. Lamb, the severe-looking housekeeper, as well as a handful of other servants who had lined up to see their new mistress. The sight of Philly’s mismatched eyes invariably caused them to start, and many looked from her to their implacable master with unconcealed bewilderment. Despite their dismay, and her own shyness, Philly offered a kind word and a warm smile to each person who greeted her.

She received few smiles in return.

Her spirits sank a little at the lukewarm welcome.

“There’s a light meal if you’re hungry,” Mrs. Lamb said as she accompanied them into the house. “Cold meat and a little wine. The fire in your room has been lit, and I’ve seen to a thorough cleaning and fresh linens. Violet! Tend to the unpacking of Mrs. Heywood’s bags. Violet will be at your service until you engage a lady’s maid, Mrs. Heywood.”

A dark-haired girl with a pale, pinched face gave Philly a neat curtsey.

“I’ll not keep you from your duties long,” Philly told her. “I hope to engage a girl from the village by the end of the month.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Violet curtsied again before taking Philly’s valise from one of the footmen and disappearing back into the throng of servants.

“From the village, Mrs. Heywood?” Mrs. Lamb’s voice was as cold and unwelcoming as her expression. “You’ll never find a proper lady’s maid amongst the girls in Heycombe. They wouldn’t know the first thing about caring for fine clothes or arranging your hair.”

“I don’t mind inexperience, Mrs. Lamb. At Satterthwaite Court, I always trained my own lady’s maids from girls in the village.”

Mrs. Lamb looked skeptical, but held her tongue.

After the initial furor of their arrival, things calmed enough that Philly was able to speak once more with William about the care of her dogs. When she’d satisfied herself that all would go well with them for the night, she joined Arthur at the immense mahogany table in the dining room to have something to eat.

As she passed through the house, she saw that the interior was very much in the same classical style as the exterior. There were molded ceilings with gracefully ornamented plasterwork, and white-paneled walls spaced with Ionic pilasters. The carved marble fireplaces were enormous, rivaled in size only by some of the great landscape paintings that covered large expanses of the walls. And the furnishings, though obviously old and out of fashion, still retained a comfortable elegance with their faded silk damasks and well-worn velvets.

After they’d eaten, Arthur advised that she retire for the night. He’d seemed to be increasingly preoccupied since they sat down together. Philly assumed he must have some estate business to attend to before he could retire himself.

“Sleep well,” he said to her as Mrs. Lamb came to take her to her room.

“Goodnight.” Philly wanted to say more. To thank him, and tell him that she would be forever grateful—forever in his debt—for the service he had done her.

But such words would be inappropriate in front of the servants.

She followed Mrs. Lamb back into the main hall, and up the grand, sweeping staircase that curved to the floors above.

The housekeeper led the way down a dimly lit corridor. She stopped in front of a large paneled door and opened it for Philly to enter. “I’ll send up Violet. If you need anything more than she can provide, have her fetch me.”

Philly thanked the housekeeper and bid her goodnight. After shutting the door firmly behind her, she turned to look at her new bedroom. It was not as well lived in as the other parts of the house she’d seen. Indeed, she had a sense that this particular room had been shut up for a very long time. It was large and rather lonely, though the thick Aubusson carpets that covered the floor and the crackling fire in the hearth made everything seem cozier than it otherwise would have been.

She paced the length of the room, running her hand along the carved mahogany furniture and the faded blue damask hangings that surrounded the four-poster bed. There was a truly monstrous wardrobe, a cheval mirror with a tarnished plate, and a writing desk stocked with foolscap, quills, and ink. A paneled door led into a well-appointed dressing room and a second paneled door appeared to connect her bedroom with another.

Curious, Philly went to the connecting door and tested the doorknob. It turned easily in her hand. She was just opening it to take a peek inside when she realized exactly whose bedroom the connecting door must lead to.

She jerked her hand from the doorknob, a jolt of anxiety running through her as quick and sharp as a lightning strike.

Did Arthur know that the servants had placed her in the room adjoining his own? And why was the door unlocked?