Page 13 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

“You do not?”

Noelle frowned. “I’ve only seen him twice, but his face is so stern and his eyes so cold.”

“Ah. Well, he smiled when he came into the store, you see, so perhaps he looked different. He is a well set-up gentleman and pleasant...well, at least until he—how you say—ran into the back, um...” She clapped her hands together and made an explosive noise with her mouth. “Like this.”

“Exploded?”

“Oui. Just so.” Lisette nodded. “Then he was stern, as you say.” She pulled another face. In the store, she always adopted a solemn demeanor, wearing her dark hair in a conservative knot atop her head and dressing in rather somber clothes. But in private, Lisette had an expressive face and was prone to laughter and lively conversation.

Noelle glanced over at Gil and saw that he had turned toward them at the sounds Lisette made and was watching them with interest. He said, “Are you talking about Carlisle Thorne?”

“Ah, you recognized him!” Lisette laughed and lifted her chin, pulling her face into a haughty, frowning expression.

Gil laughed and hopped off the last three stairs in one bound, running over to them. He leaned against the table, examining the ribbons and various ornaments before them. “He smiled at me, though.” He turned his face up to his mother a little questioningly.

“Yes, of course. He likes you, I’m sure.”

“I liked the ducks. Can we go back?”

“Yes, we will one afternoon.” Noelle bent over and kissed the top of his head. “Now, run and get me some lavender ribbon, love, one thinner than this.”

The flow of customers picked up later in the afternoon, and Noelle returned to the showroom. Near the end of the day, a carriage pulled up in front, and a liveried footman jumped down to open the door for the woman inside. He hurried, too, to open the door of the shop, and for an instant Noelle thought he was about to announce the arrival of their customer in solemn tones.

The woman who entered paused and glanced curiously around the store. She was small, almost fragile in appearance, the look heightened by the full mourning in which she was dressed. Her face was softly pretty, with fine lines of age at the corners of her pale blue eyes and her mouth. Her dress and pelisse, though plain and black, were finely made, as was the elegant onyx mourning jewelry at her throat and ears. Clearly she was the type of important customer with whom Noelle always dealt.

“Welcome to our shop, madam.” Noelle stepped forward to greet her. There was something vaguely familiar about the woman, and Noelle cudgeled her mind, trying to remember if the lady was someone she should know. She hadn’t been in this shop before now, Noelle was certain of that, but perhaps she had seen her in Paris or earlier in her life, in Oxford. “May I help you?”

The woman, who had been staring intently at Lisette and the other clerk, now fixed her gaze on Noelle. “Yes, I, perhaps you can. I—I’d like to look at that hat.” She gestured toward the stand at the farthest end of the counter, a small chip straw hat that was at odds with both the woman’s age and her mourning.

“Of course.” Noelle smiled politely and walked with her to the other side of the room. There was something distinctly peculiar about this woman, and Noelle’s suspicions, always on the alert, were now fully aroused.

When they reached the jaunty little straw hat, the woman turned to her, her cheeks coloring. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I am here on false pretenses.”

In that instant, Noelle knew who the woman was and where she had seen not her, but a sketch of her, drawn six years ago by the woman’s son. “Lady Drewsbury.”

“Yes. Please...” The small woman took Noelle’s arm, as if she feared Noelle might walk away. “I don’t want to bother you or cause you any trouble.” She glanced toward Lisette and the other salesgirl, both watching curiously, then turned back to Noelle. “But I so much wish to talk to you. I can wait in my carriage and we can talk when you, uh, when you can.” It was clear she hadn’t the faintest idea what the rules of employment might be.

Noelle’s heart welled with pity for the woman. Adam had always spoken with love of his mother, never blaming her for the rift between him and his family, and whatever resentment Noelle might have felt for his mother for following her husband’s wishes melted now in the face of Lady Drewsbury’s obvious anxiety, hope, and sadness. Noelle thought of Gil and how she would feel if she had lost him.

“We can talk now if you wish.” Noelle glanced toward the back room, then faced Adam’s mother. “We can—would you—would you like to meet your grandson?”

CHAPTER FOUR

LADY DREWSBURY’S EYES filled with tears, yet her face shone with joy. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

Noelle ushered her past the others, sending Lisette a meaningful glance. Lisette nodded and motioned for the worker in the back to join them up front. Noelle led the older woman through the low door and down the single step into the workroom, filled with the daily clutter of decorating bonnets.

Noelle suspected that Lady Drewsbury had never entered this sort of room, but the woman didn’t even glance around. Her eyes went straight to Gil, who was kneeling on a stool, chalk in hand, drawing on a small board of slate. He looked up at their entrance and smiled, saying, “Maman,” and proceeded to spout French.

“English this time, love,” Noelle said. “I want you to meet someone.”

Gil hopped off his stool, his interested gaze on the older woman, and he came forward, wiping the chalk from his fingers on his trousers.

“Lady Drewsbury, I’d like you to meet my son, Gil. Gil, please, say hello to, um—” She hesitated, not sure how an aristocratic woman like the countess should be introduced to her grandson.

But Lady Adeline resolved the problem by squatting down to the boy’s level and saying, “Hello. I am your grandmother.”

“My grandmother!” He turned toward Noelle, wonder dawning on his face. “Ma bonne-maman?”