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"Your husband wanted you to sleep. He said you had not been sleeping well." Danielle's mouth quirked into a naughty smile. "Is this true, Madame? Have you been kept awake nights?"
"Yes, I. . ." She let her hands fall to her lap, let her anger fall away with them. It had been considerate, she supposed, to let her sleep through. She certainly had been kept awake nights—five nights in all. First, the two dreamy, endless nights in her cottage. Then they'd made good use of three inns along the way. Perhaps he could be forgiven his thoughtlessness. He had meant to be helpful.
All right. She would not ruin her first full day at Westmore with a petty argument.
"Is breakfast still being served below?"
"Non. The commoners have taken themselves off to their work."
"Danielle!"
"Well, it is terrible, is it not? Everyone gathers together to eat the same meal! Lucky for you that many of them breakfast in their homes in the village. I would stay out of there for luncheon if I were you."
"I believe they call it dinner here. And I have eaten many a dinner with laborers, if you'll remember."
"Pah. For you, working was an adventure. These people will be here night and day."
Alex slipped from the bed, turning over Danielle's words. Was that true, that working had been no more than an adventure for her? She had felt she'd contributed something but, of course, she was too small to be effective at the manual labor. So even if she had improved her brother's holdings, her physical work had been no more than a lark, really. Perhaps she'd been deluding herself to think she'd been useful at Somerhart.
But here at Westmore . . . Here she could make a real difference. There was so much to be done, and she would start on it today.
"I will take my breakfast in the great hall, even if it is empty. It will provide me with inspiration."
"Inspiration to do what, Madame? Turn into a bat?"
"Danielle!" Her reprimand was ruined by the muffling effect of her chemise as the maid pulled it over her head. "This is our home now. I will not have you insulting it."
She raised her eyebrows in a French expression of disgust, but she held her tongue as she efficiently fastened up Alexandra's corset.
"Yes, there is much that needs improvement, but that will come in time. There are surely little things that can be added to make things more cozy for the winter. Then in the spring, we can build at least three good rooms into that space, that should not prove too expensive, though I do hope Collin will let me invest in some windows."
"But why?"
Alex cocked her head. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Why would you want to bother with all these improvements?"
"What?" The bodice of her gown blinded her for a moment. She came up sputtering. "Collin's home is a fine place, Danielle, but I can admit that it needs some work. I would not like to live year after year hidden away from the
sun. What?"
Danielle continued to stare, nose a crinkle of confusion.
"Did the roads jar your brain, Danielle?"
"I don't understand, Madame. Bridey says the new house will be ready next year. Why would you go to all the bother of fixing this one up? It doesn't seem worth it."
"What new house?" Before the words had even left her mouth, Alex felt a terrible foreboding, a sense of some deception. She remembered Fergus's questioning look and the shake of Collin's head.
Danielle's face had blanked in shock. She licked her lips. "The new house being built. Over the hill. It's lovely, they say." Her voice faded away.
"Oh, yes," Alex mumbled over the ragged beat of her heart. "That new house. Of course."
"Madame . . ." Her face was no longer blank; it had twisted to pained pity.
"Fasten the bodice, please."
Her eyes avoided Alex's as her fingers worked on the bodice, hands trembling against the soft wool gown. Or perhaps that was Alex's vision, jumping and twitching with rage.
