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Chapter 3
Aunt Joan was dozing on the seat just across from Lucy. The journey from London had taken them two days, and it had been an exhausting trip. They had taken a coach from London to the small village of Shere, where the viscount had had his very own barouche-landau meet them for the last leg of the journey. Aunt Joan had been vastly excited to have her first ride in the sleek black carriage—with a perfectly-matched pair, no less!
She had completely exhausted herself, and had been asleep for the past hour while Lucy watched the green fields and rolling hills of the countryside pass by outside of the window.
The carriage was just pulling into the long drive, which led to the viscount’s estate. She gasped at the sight before her.
“Aunt Joan!” Lucy said. “Look.”
Aunt Joan shook off her sleep, then peered eagerly out the window. “Oh! It’s so beautiful, is it not?”
The viscount’s manor was a grand four-storey sandstone building, with many windows that glittered in the sun. There was a lake in front of the house, which was nestled into the countryside like a jewel. In the fields that surrounded it grazed fine, sleek horses, their tails swishing lazily back and forth. They were majestic animals, in shades of brown and black.
“I haven’t been here in nearly ten years,” Aunt Joan said, sadly. Lucy smiled at her aunt. She knew that she missed her friend greatly.
Lucy felt incredibly nervous, her stomach twisting in ways that she’d never known that it could. She was dressed in a simple grey frock, a black Spencer jacket, and a straw bonnet with a black ribbon, tied in a neat bow underneath her chin. She glanced down at her hands, folded in her lap. Her kid gloves were getting worn at the fingertips.
Someone will notice, she thought wryly.I hope they don’t hold it against me. Lucy was fully prepared to not be liked.After all, why get my hopes up?
When the carriage stopped in front of the house, a tall older gentleman and a young lady were waiting to greet them, along with the members of the household staff. They both had the same black hair and blue eyes.
This must be the viscount and his daughter.
The gentleman walked to the carriage, offering his hand to Aunt Joan, just as one of the footmen opened the door to let both women out.
“Miss Wilds,” he said, “it’s so kind of you to come all this way.”
“Lord Thornbridge!” Aunt Joan exclaimed. “Thank you for your invitation. This is my niece, Miss Lucy Wilds.”
The viscount held out his hand to help Lucy down. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.
“Thank you, My Lord,” she murmured.
“This is my daughter, Miss Dinah Sweet,” he said, and the women all curtsied to each other.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Miss Sweet said. “Unfortunately, my brothers are not at home, but they will be soon.”
“Come,” Lord Thornbridge urged them. “We will get you both settled in your rooms, and then, perhaps, my daughter can show you around the house.”
“I would love to see the gardens,” Lucy murmured.
“Then you must,” Miss Sweet said, smiling. Lucy smiled back at her. Miss Sweet seemed very kind, though Lucy suspected that they hadn’t much in common. She was relieved that Aunt Joan would be there, to act as a buffer. Aunt Joan could always be depended upon to get along with everyone else—and to keep up a steady stream of polite conversation.
***
Lucy had unpacked her trunk, putting all of her dresses into the large hardwood armoire that stood in her room. She and Aunt Joan had been offered the use of Miss Sweet’s lady’s maid, but they had declined. Neither of them was used to being waited upon.
“Aunt Joan?” Lucy called out. She knocked on the door which joined her room to her aunt’s.
“Come in, Lucy.”
Lucy opened the door, peering into her aunt’s room. It was the same as her own—decorated with a lush silk wallpaper in a deep royal blue, with a dark mahogany bed and matching armoire. A mustard-coloured duvet covered the bed, and an oil painting of a woodland scene hung over the fireplace.
“Are you going to accompany me to the gardens with Miss Sweet?” Lucy asked.
“I think I may take a nap,” Aunt Joan said. She did look tired after their long journey, but Lucy didn’t want to go alone. Her aunt usually kept up a long stream of discussion, allowing Lucy to fade into the background.
“Please, Aunt Joan,” Lucy said. “I’ll have nothing to talk to her about.”
