AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Oh, thank you—Leon.’ Elinor reached for the toast, suddenly finding herself incapable of any more of this and terrified of meeting Theo’s mocking gaze. ‘I will come and find you when Mama no longer requires me, shall I?’
To her relief the others began to trickle into the room. Julie sat next to Leon, sending Elinor a cool, warning glance as though she had overheard her exchange with him. Laure and Antoinette fluttered in and sat down either side of Theo, exclaiming over the changes to the dramatic colouring of his bruises and managing to sound as though he had been injured in the course of some knightly endeavour. Elinor wondered about engaging him in conversation and then wickedly decided to leave him to deal with them as best he could.
His tactics appeared to be to treat them both as though they were about fifteen and he an indulgent and elderly uncle, an approach that won him an approving nod from his aunt when Lady James appeared.
The Traceys announced their intention of riding out and persuaded Monsieur Castelnau, and, to Elinor’s surprise, Ana, to join them. Julie, she noticed, waited until Leon’s refusal before refusing herself. She’s in love with him, Elinor thought. Poor soul, he sees only his mother’s companion. And companions, as she knew all too well, were so often invisible. But Julie was striking, with a slim dark elegance that matched the count’s, and she hardly seemed lacking in self-confidence. They would make a handsome couple.
She waited for her mother to finish, sipping a third cup of coffee and crumbling a roll while she attempted to engage her hostess in conversation. The countess seemed heavy-eyed and strained. No doubt, Elinor thought compassionately, she was finding sleep hard to come by. Her husband had died in mysterious circumstances only a little while ago, after all. In fact, it was odd that she chose to entertain at all—perhaps she did so only at her son’s insistence. Her gaze rested thoughtfully on Leon. He did not have the air of a man whose father had only recently died so tragically—had he and the previous count been on bad terms?
Lady James did not keep her waiting long. ‘Come, Elinor, we have work to do.’ Elinor turned to smile her thanks at Monsieur Castelnau, who had pulled back her chair for her, and blinked in sudden confusion. Who was that woman? Then she saw it was herself reflected in a long glass. She stared. Yes, of course it was her, only…
‘I will just fetch my sketching things, Mama,’ she said, leaving her mother to ask the countess about the key to the chapel.
Jeanie was folding clothes in her room and looked up with a smile as Elinor came in. ‘Jeanie, do I look different?’
It was a bizarre question, but the maid did not seem to find it odd. ‘But yes, Miss Elinor. You’ve got colour in your cheeks and your hair makes your face so much softer and you are wearing those pretty colours now.’
She stared at the mirror. She looked younger, or at least she looked her proper age and not years older as she sometimes felt. And if not pretty exactly—she did not have that sort of face—she might honestly claim to look quite attractive. She knew she had looked nice last evening, but then she had been wearing her lovely new gown and the jewels. But now…‘How odd. I suppose I have been getting more fresh air, and the new gowns and hairstyle, of course.’
‘All those,’ Jeanie agreed, coming to look over her shoulder. ‘But its being in love that does it. Works every time.’
Elinor stared at her
and Jeanie smiled back into the mirror, apparently unaware that she had said anything to shock her mistress. It took several attempts to make her voice work. ‘Jeanie, I am not in love.’ That did not seem emphatic enough. ‘Not at all. Not with anyone.’
The girl actually winked! ‘Of course, if you say so, Miss Elinor. You can rely on me not saying anything to her ladyship, we don’t want to worry her, do we, not with all the things she’s thinking about, what with her books and everything. It’s ever so convenient over here, isn’t it? Not like London. You can go around with him, just as you please.’
‘Over here?’ Elinor said faintly. ‘Oh, yes. Very convenient.’
‘And he’s a lovely gentleman, isn’t he? Not what you’d call handsome, not like the count. But what I’d call manly. And he’s got lovely hands—’ She broke off, looking thoughtful. ‘Yes, miss, you definitely won’t be disappointed in him for a husband.’
‘Jeanie.’ Elinor pulled herself together and spoke clearly, slowly and firmly, desperately ignoring the image of how Theo would not be a disappointment as a husband. ‘I am not in love with Mr Ravenhurst. He is my cousin and my friend, that is all. There is nothing to keep secret from my mother.’ And may I not be struck down for lying! she thought. Lying about there being nothing to keep secret, she amended. There was no secret about her feelings for Theo. It was ludicrous to think she was in love with him. That was not a rational emotion for her to have. And she was a rational female. Very rational, if unable to control the stirrings of physical desire. Nothing more than a kiss…that was no reason to fall in love.
‘Yes, Miss Elinor.’ Jeanie, not the slightest bit chastened, returned to her folding while Elinor, considerably flustered, snatched up her satchel and a folded copy of the plan and fled.
I am not in love with him, I can’t be. ‘Here I am, Mama—goodness, those stairs are steep! What would you like me to do?’ I desire him. That is a perfectly natural physical reaction over which I have no control. But I can control my actions and my thoughts. ‘Check the capitals for similarities with the basilica? Yes, of course.’ Falling in love is intellectual, surely? I do not want to fall in love, therefore I cannot. I have not. ‘This one, Mama, and that one there. I think they might be by the same hand.’
Falling in love turns your brain upside down. Look at Cousin Bel when she fell in love. Distracted, poor thing. I am perfectly in command of my emotions. I am perfectly normal.
‘Elinor! What are you doing standing there, gazing into space? You have been looking like a moonstruck noddy for a good two minutes.’
‘Sorry, Mama. I was trying to recall the basilica columns in detail.’ Focus, think. She was terrified, she realised. Terrified by the emotions she did not understand, terrified that perhaps Jeanie was right, that she was in love with Theo. Because if she was, it was hopeless and it would hurt. It would hurt terribly and she had schooled herself to live life calmly, not expecting anything and never being disappointed. That way nothing wounded her any more, nothing was going to leave her raw and vulnerable and exposed. But this was going to, because it was quite hopeless, he had said so.
‘Do you want me to draw, Mama?’ she asked, praying the answer would be no. Her hands were shaking. ‘Because I thought I would check for masons’ marks, see if any match the ones in the basilica.’
‘An excellent idea,’ Lady James approved, beginning to pace out distances between columns. There, she could pull herself together and function after all. Elinor began to scan the walls closely, noting the cryptic signs the medieval masons had scratched on each block so their work could be identified and they would be paid correctly each day. It needed careful study and it meant she could check the walls for any sign of a hiding place as she went.
By the end of the morning her notebook was full of marks, her head was spinning and every inch of wall had been looked at. There was nothing in the least suspicious to suggest a secret.
A footman arrived with the message that luncheon was served, earning a frown from Lady James and a sigh of thankfulness from Elinor. ‘Mama, can you manage without me this afternoon? I have such a headache. I could collate the marks against the ones for the basilica later if you like.’
‘Very well. Come along, I suppose we must eat.’
Elinor wrestled with her problem throughout luncheon before she came up with a solution. She was seeing too much of Theo, and under circumstances that were so intense, it was no wonder she was becoming—she sought for a word—engrossed with him. All that was needed was contact with another man.
And there was an admirable candidate to hand. ‘Miss Elinor?’ The count was waiting to see if she was still hoping for a tour of the cellars. Yes, he would do perfectly. He was attractive enough to be diverting, sophisticated enough not to mistake her intentions or feelings.
‘Leon.’ She smiled back. ‘I am relying upon you for some thoroughly spine-chilling stories.’
