Page 18 of Mistress of Misfortune

Why does no one else see what I do in Dredthorne Hall? Meredith realized she had said that out loud, and grimaced at her cousin. “I don’t understand why the villagers so dislike this house. I think it the loveliest of places.”

“No one can mistake your enthusiasm, my dear.” Lucetta sat down across for her and regarded her steadily. “You do know, however, that you should not have remained here alone with the colonel.”

“Yes, of course.” Meredith glanced at the window. “I would have walked home, Cousin, but for the storm. The colonel would not permit me leave.”

“I assumed as much. I only wish you had been driving by the parsonage, and then we might have avoided this entire situation.” She sighed. “Nevertheless, I believe with some slight alteration of the facts we can preserve your reputation. I will return with you to your home tomorrow. You will then tell your parents that we met on the road, and I came with you to Dredthorne to wait out the storm.”

“That is not the truth,” Meredith protested. “Nor should I wish to lie to my parents.”

“Do you wish to be ruined forever, or have the colonel forced to make an offer of marriage?” Lucetta demanded, her expression stern now. “If word of your escapade gets out, one of those two things will be the result.”

“My parents will tell no one,” Meredith insisted. “They know I would never behave improperly. Once I have explained about my injury and the colonel’s carriage being repaired, they will understand I could do nothing else.”

“What of your mother's friends, when she lets the truth slip to them? Or your father, when he comes here to demand that Thorne make an honest woman of you, as any man should?” Lucetta raised her brows. “What can be done about that? Would you repay Thorne’s kindness with the ruination of his character, or the loss of his freedom to choose a wife?”

“There is no reason for those things to be done.” Meredith wrapped her good arm over her sling. “I did nothing improper, Cousin. I was hurt, and the colonel helped me. That is the truth.”

“No one will care what actually occurred between you, my dear.” The older woman’s expression turned bitter. “Why do you think they call it keeping up appearances? Because everything is about how it appears. You have spent many hours alone in the company of a man you do not know. That is enough to ruin your name forever.”

“Very well.” Meredith stood up, unable to bear another moment of Lucetta’s harping on propriety. “I will not lie to my parents, but I will not dispute anything you say to them. Goodnight, Cousin.”

When she returned to her room Meredith was careful to first toe off her slippers before she walked across the slippery rug. One of the colonel's servants had lit the lamps and turned down the bed linens; all she had to do was remove her dress, and…

Meredith glanced down at her sling, and then tried to reach the buttons on the back of her gown with her good arm. She could not manage to free even one of them.

“Drat.” If only she dared utter some oaths. “Perhaps I will simply rip it off, and prance about in my underclothes.”

She sat down on the window seat and leaned her brow against the cold glass. Long ago she had learned to quell her temper, for to become angry over things she could not change served no purpose. Of course, she would not destroy the only dress she had to wear; she would return to her cousin's room to ask for her assistance. Or she might forego comfort and sleep in her gown, for she did not wish to speak to Lucetta again until her temper subsided.

How could she think that Papa would force the Colonel to offer for me?

Neither of Meredith’s parents ever spoke to her about the possibility of marriage. When she was younger her father had made it clear that she would not be presented at court or enjoy a season in the city. Both were too costly, and Lady Starling felt convinced that allowing her daughter to go to London would end in disaster or death. None of the eligible young men in the area had ever taken an interest in her; Meredith had trouble finding one willing even to dance with her at assemblies. Doubtless her parents assumed, as she did, that she would end a spinster.

While Meredith had always known she would never marry, she felt some curiosity about the intimate relationship between a husband and wife. She had tried twice to ask her mother about what happened after marriage. Both times Lady Starling had suffered an immediate onset of the headache that resulted in her retiring to her bedchamber.

The novels Meredith sometimes filched from her father's book room had provided only vague clues that involved the man coming to his wife’s room and sharing kisses and much embracing. After reading Desdemona's shocking death scene in Shakespeare's Othello, however, Meredith had resolved never to allow any man to enter her bedchamber in the night.

Should he come to her, Meredith thought Colonel Thorne would not attempt to strangle her. He would touch her with those clever hands of his, and gaze at her with his crystalline eyes, and then perhaps touch his lips to hers…and then she would surely swoon.

Disturbed by her own desires, Meredith went to the bed, and lay down on her side to avoid the discomfort of her gown’s buttons against her spine. Exhaustion suddenly swamped her, and she closed her eyes. She would rest for a moment, and then seek Lucetta’s assistance with her dress. Only for a moment…

An unsteady, heavy sound roused Meredith from a sound sleep. For a moment she thought she’d dreamt it, and then it came again. Gingerly she pushed herself up to look at the door. Had someone knocked? Was it morning? No, the window remained dark. “Hello?”

A muffled groan answered her.

Carefully she climbed off the bed and made her way to the door. When she opened it, she saw that no one stood outside. She leaned out to peruse the hall, but only shadows filled it. Then she heard the groaning again, more distant now, as if it came from the opposite side of the house. A particular loud thump made her flinch, and then everything fell silent.

“What are you doing?”

Meredith uttered a small cry as Lucetta came out of the darkness, her tall form wrapped in a pale coverlet. “Heavens, Cousin, you scared the wits out of me.”

“I am sorry for that.” The older woman’s dark hair hung in a long, thick braid that twitched as she glanced both ways down the hall. “Sounds from the wind tormenting a loose shutter woke me from my sleep.”

Was that what had caused the eerie noise? Meredith had thought the sound more like a voice of someone in torment. But she was being fanciful; she’d been half-asleep when she’d heard it.

“The same happened to me.” Meredith grimaced down at the wrinkled condition of her gown. “I must have fallen asleep before I could ask for your assistance with my buttons.”

“Come, then, and I will attend to them.” Lucetta urged her back into the room, closing the door firmly before she regarded the chair by the fireplace. “Perhaps I should sleep in here tonight.”

“I’m not a child for you to safeguard,” Meredith said, and immediately regretted the harsh protest when she saw pain in her cousin’s bleak expression. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to snap.”

“Why shouldn’t you? I’ve been treating you like a child all evening.” Her cousin went around her and began releasing her buttons. “It’s simply that…one should not wander in a strange house, particularly in the night. You may stumble across secrets that you never wished to find.”

Meredith suspected that Lucetta wasn’t referring to Dredthorne Hall now. The unsteadiness in her voice made all her own ire vanish. Once she had finished with the buttons she turned to face her. “If you truly want to stay, then of course you must. I will take the chair, and you the bed.”

“Nonsense. As you well reminded me, you are not a child.” The older woman helped her out of her gown and then forced a smile. “I will be just across the hall if you have need of me. Good-night, my dear.”

Something dreadful had happened to her cousin in London, Meredith suspected, to make her so fearful. But what could do that to a strong, purposeful woman like Lucetta?