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Shadows of Haven appeared in the mulish tilt of Jacinda’s jaw.
“My welcome has been anything but poor, Jacinda. There is nothing here that soap and hard work can’t fix.” This house must be put to rights, if for no one else but Jacinda. “I’ll admit, I’m not known to be especially good at tidying up and such—”
Betts gave a quiet snort.
“But I promise you, Jacinda, we’ll have everything put to rights. And you must be patient.” She squeezed her arm. “Haven told me what to expect. All the things that must be done,” she lied. “I’m not the least surprised. I assumed it would be much worse.”
Jacinda nodded, looking relieved.
Theodosia’s Enormous Endeavor.
She tried to view the room as the artist she was, envisioning it as a blank canvas upon which she must create. It made things simpler, looking at each room and Greenbriar as nothing more than the barest outline of a sketch. The stroke of the brush, the hues and shading. All must come later.
“I do wish my sister were here. She’s clever with fabrics and how things must go together.” Theo might not share Romy’s creativity at designs, but shewasgood at color. Light. Shadows.
This is nothing but a very large painting.
“Granby’s duchess,” Jacinda said. “Ambrose told me.”
“Yes,” Theo said, surprised Haven had told Jacinda about her sister. “Romy has quite an eye for fabrics and such. But we’ll muddle through without her.”
Jacinda’s room, the last on Theo’s tour, was closer to the front of the house. It was the only compliment Theo could give the spot where Haven’s sister slept. The wallpaper covering the walls was so ancient it had yellowed, the pattern unrecognizable. A stack of books served as the missing leg of what was once a finely carved table. Another armoire, this one in fairly decent shape, sat open against one wall, allowing her to see the near emptiness inside. The bed at least looked comfortable, unlike the one residing in the room Theo had just left. This mattress appeared free of lumps, but the faded blue coverlet was torn. Books were stacked everywhere, most in worse shape than the room.
The first place Theo meant to take Jacinda, after the dressmakers, was a bookstore.
Propped against the mantel of the fireplace was a portrait of a woman with hair the same color as Jacinda’s. It was the only painting Theo had seen in the entire house. She guessed, by the resemblance to Jacinda and Haven, the woman was their mother.
“She’s lovely,” Theo said, admiring the portrait.
Jacinda’s cane thumped softly behind her. “My mother,” she replied. “Matilda. Ambrose says I favor her. I wasn’t very old when she died. Childbirth. A fever took her and the babe.”
And then Haven’s father had slowly fallen into despair. Drink. Gambling. Taking his family with him. Theo regarded the painting of the auburn-haired woman with soft hazel eyes, seeing Haven’s rough attractiveness in her feminine features.
“I’m so sorry, Jacinda.”
“It was some time ago.” She gave a shrug. “I wish I remembered more about her. That’s what bothers me the most.” A stricken look entered her delicate features as she tapped the cane on the floor. “Ambrose is older, so he tells me stories, but it isn’t the same. Father never recovered from her death. His heart was broken. Ambrose and I weren’t enough for him.” Stark sadness bled through her words. “Then he died too.” Despite his leaving her impoverished, Jacinda had loved her father. Theo could hear it in her voice.
“I lost my own father,” she said, taking Jacinda’s hand. “I miss him very much.”
“The Duke of Averell. Uncle Erasmus told me about him when Ambrose said you were marrying. He said your brother looks remarkably like him, considering.”
Theo’s brow wrinkled at the odd comment. “Considering what?”
Jacinda shrugged again. “I’ve no idea. My uncle doesn’t often make sense. Besides the drink, he’s slightly addled. Something he and Mr. Henderson have in common.” She gave a small laugh. “You’ll see when you make his acquaintance.”
“Erasmus lived in France, didn’t he?” She wondered how Erasmus had seen the late Duke of Averell and either of his sons. Maybe the first time he returned to Greenbriar? When Haven was a child?
“He did. But he ran out of money, which Ambrose says he was bound to do because he hasn’t a mind for such things.”
“What sort of things?”
“Running an estate. Managing servants. Ledger books. Tenants. All the things a lord must do. At least according to my brother. Ambrose likens him to an oversized infant that one must care for.” She giggled. “Albeit one who smells of spirits.”
Yes, that sounded like something Haven would say.
“I was shocked when my uncle appeared. I didn’t even know I had an uncle, let alone one who looked like my father. But I was glad he came to Greenbriar. He’d heard Ambrose was dead and came to console my father. He was trembling something terrible from his journey. My father and Erasmus argued. Drank a lot. I’m grateful he was here when my father died, though my uncle is a bit of a handful at times. It’s the drink and his nervous condition.”
“Haven wasn’t here, was he?” The story fascinated Theo because it sounded like one of her novels. She shook her head. Twin brothers consumed by their love of spirits wasn’t exactly something anyone would wish to read about.
