Ravenwood(27)

“My apologies, miss. I’ve come to help you get ready for dinner.”

“Oh?” Elinore asked, looking down at what she was wearing. It was clearly not hers, not fitting her at all, but it was clean and tidy.

“Mr. Hayter indicated at lunch you should wear some of the late Mrs. Vollmond’s things.” Mrs. Davenport glanced at the clock. “I should have come sooner, but I was caught up in my duties. If you come with me now, we’ll have you ready for dinner.”

“All right.” Elinore glanced back at the chair. The book she’d been reading had slipped between the cushion and the armrest. It would surely not be noticed. She hoped.

Mrs. Davenport kept up a light stream of conversation as they made their way back up the stairs. She asked after Elinore’s day, asked how Elinore got along with Alice, asked if there was anything Elinore needed. Elinore had never felt so much the centre of attention in her life and she said as much in reply.

“You probably don’t want to hear the natterings on of an old woman,” Mrs. Davenport said.

“I hope you don’t think that’s what I meant,” Elinore said in quick reply, worried the housekeeper had taken offense. “I’m quite flattered and very touched by the care you’ve shown me in the short time I’ve been here. I was quite nervous on the journey over and had a dreadful night with the accident, but you’ve been very kind and friendly to me. I appreciate it more than I can say.”

Elinore thought Mrs. Davenport blushed, looking quite pleased at Elinore’s words. “Thank you, miss.”

“I thank you in return, Mrs. Davenport.”

Just outside the door to her chamber, Mrs. Davenport paused. “I’m not sure you’ll be thanking me in a moment, dear. We’ve got to get you into one of Mrs. Vollmond’s gowns.”

Elinore had all of three seconds to be confused before Mrs. Davenport opened the door and showed Elinore the elaborate red gown she’d laid out on the bed.

“Oh, dear.”

Evidently, her aunt had been quite slender of waist - more so than Elinore would have guessed from the portrait downstairs.

“We’d best get to it.”

Forty minutes later, Elinore was slightly breathless as she stood in front of the mirror and saw her reflection in the dramatic red gown. She wished she could her difficulty breathing was from the shock of seeing how fine she looked but truth be told, she scarcely had room to breath and had to manage with quick, short breaths.

“You’re more robust than the late Mrs. Vollmond. Heartier constitution. She was always a slip of a thing.”

“Are you sure this is necessary?” Elinore asked. She didn’t want to waste all the effort that had gone into getting her into the corset and the layered gown, but it was dreadfully tight. She had to stand ramrod straight, raising even her neck slightly and still it felt like the seams may burst at any moment. Mrs. Davenport assured her everything she was wearing was well-made and would survive the night.

“Mr. Hayter wishes you to dress for dinner. We must always abide by Mr. Hayter’s wishes.”

Watching the housekeeper was like watching a little church mouse scurry about trying not to be heard. She flitted to the vanity and came back with some pins, securing sections of Elinore’s hair that were not in the least bit loose. She brushed her hands down the deep red fabric, smoothing imaginary lines and divesting it of unseen lint. When a clock chime rang in the hall, Mrs. Davenport straightened, her eyes catching Elinore’s in the mirror.

“All right. To dinner.”

Walking in the corset was intricate - Elinore’s entire upper body was forced into sway with her hips, giving her a rolling gait that felt much more graceful than she was sure it looked. Good heavens, how was she going to sit down in this contraption? It would likely cut her in half. She said a silent prayer to her late aunt, asking for her assistance in not becoming mortally wounded by her clothing that night. Mrs. Davenport appeared to become more and more anxious as they approached the dining room and Elinore wondered what on earth could possibly await her behind the door. Finally, they arrived, Mrs. Davenport taking a moment to check Elinore’s appearance once more.

“There you are, dear. I’m sure you look fine.”

Elinore wanted to ask what she meant, but before she could, the housekeeper was opening the door and motioning Elinore to walk through.

Hayter sat alone at the head of the table, looking up at her expectantly as she came in. Elinore’s eyes quickly scanned the table and saw only one other place setting. Hayter smiled at her entrance, his teeth gleaming slightly in the candlelight. It seemed for a moment that his eyes flashed a strange amber color; it must have surely been only a trick of the light.

“Dear Elinore. Good evening.” He stood and bowed.

She bobbed her head slightly. “Good evening, Uncle.” She hesitated by the door and saw his lips thin slightly at her address.

He gestured for her to come forward, pulling her chair out and waiting for her to sit. Rubbing her fingers together nervously, she stepped forward. The walk to the chair seemed interminably long, as though she was walking down a long, thin corridor. She reached her seat and ducked her head slightly, sitting down and gathering her skirt about her.

Hayter pushed her chair in toward the table and then his hand came to rest on her shoulder. She stilled like an animal in the wild, fighting the urge to flinch or curve her body away from his touch. His fingers were solid and firm as they rested on her collar-bone.