The Solemn Bell(32)

The Bentley pulled to a stop.

Captain Neill shut off the engine. “Ready, my girl?”

No, she was definitely not ready for this, yet Angelica let him come around the car and help her out of the seat. Her shoes met gravel. It felt soft and pebbly, not sharp beneath her soles. Raked and even. He took her elbow and guided her in the direction of the front steps.

“Seven steps up,” he said, quietly. Together, they counted them. If there were servants or anybody else nearby, she couldn’t tell. Captain Neill did not verbally acknowledge anyone, but he also wouldn’t want her to feel embarrassed in front of observers. Even he had to know how awkward it was to be led around like an invalid.

At the top of the steps, he helped her through an open door. Once inside, her heels clicked on polished marble tiles. The entire foyer echoed with every footfall. His house must be very large.

He pulled her around an entryway table in the center of the space, careful not to let her crash into what she imagined to be a very costly piece of furniture. The room was cool, and smelled of lemon wax. When his hand left her elbow, she stilled.

“Your coat, Angelica.” He slipped it from her shoulders. The thick wool and high, furred collar had been almost like a layer of armor. Without it, she felt exposed and vulnerable.

She hoped she looked all right. Captain Neill had assured her she was beautiful, but he’d said that even when she wore threadbare, out-of-fashion frocks and long, ragged hair hanging halfway down her back.

Today, her dress hung in a straight, narrow silhouette—the style of the moment—in a color Magda had called ‘dusty blue’. Angelica did not want to look like she needed a good polishing, but everyone in the dress shop had said it was very becoming.

Captain Neill took her hat and gloves, but what he did with them, she did not know. Likely, he handed them over to a footman, who silently gawked at her. She was a fool to think there wouldn’t be servants stationed at every corner. A large house would need dozens of them.

He was at her side again, touching her elbow, and directing her through the entrance hall. Back home, Angelica could count footsteps or paces, and gauge by sound where things were. Everything echoed here, bouncing off the cold, hard, tidy furnishings. She was going to be perpetually lost, tripping on stairs and walking into walls. Ending up in rooms she had no idea how to get out of.

They left the foyer and made their way to a drawing room. It smelled like potpourri and maybe just a hint of dog urine. Her first footsteps met hardwood, creaking out their arrival. A dog barked and a chair shifted. Captain Neill dropped her arm.

A young woman’s voice exclaimed, “Brody!” The girl moved toward him, but abruptly stopped. “Oh…”

“M.R., this is Angelica Grey. Miss Grey is a very dear friend,” he said, carefully. “Angelica, this is my sister, Mary Rose.”

Angelica smiled. “How do you do?”

Mary Rose Neill said nothing. She might have put her hand out, or she might have pulled a face. Angelica had no idea, so she merely stood there stupidly.

After an awkward moment, Captain Neill put his hand to her elbow again. He guided her between a side table and what might have been a potted palm. His voice sounded strained as he whispered, “How should I introduce you?”

“I find it’s easier if people introduce themselves, so that I can come to know their voices.”

He pulled her back toward the room. Angelica hoped she wasn’t going to spend the entire week getting hauled around by her arm. Surely, it would tear from its socket.

The soles of her shoes touched the edge of a thick carpet. She’d have to remember not to trip over it, in future.

Captain Neill walked further into the room. “Marcus, meet Miss Grey.”

The corresponding voice was warm, friendly, and perhaps a bit amused at his brother’s discomfort. “How do you do, Miss Grey? I’m Marcus Neill, Brody’s brother.”

Angelica smiled. “How do you do, Mr. Neill?”

Before they had time to strike up a word of conversation, Captain Neill pulled her across the expanse of carpet to a space near the windows. The sunlight warmed Angelica’s face. She stood for a moment, hands at her side. Then, he cleared his throat and said, “Mother, I’d like to present Miss Grey.”

The woman was seated. The woman remained seated. She merely lifted her chin in Angelica’s direction. “Miss Grey.”

Angelica resisted the urge to curtsey. She imagined his mother to be a very beautiful woman with hair that had once been the color of his, only now flecked with grey in middle age. Her eyes would be hard, and her mouth would be firm, downturned in displeasure. Mrs. Neill was not impressed with Angelica Grey.

Captain Neill helped her to a seat on the sofa. It was springy, soft. Surely, it was comfortable, but Angelica sat rigid. She could not be at ease. Her mouth was dry, yet when Mrs. Neill offered tea, she declined. Her hands would shake too badly, and she’d make an idiot of herself by spilling it.

No one knew what to say to her. She didn’t know what to say to them.

Suddenly, the dog leapt into her lap.

“Oh, hullo doggie!” Thankful for a distraction, Angelica stroked its fluffy fur. It was small and fussy—a spoiled lapdog that leaned up to lick her mouth.

“Clarence, no!” Captain Neill swatted at it. “No, Clarence.”

She wiped her lips with her hand. “It’s all right. I like dogs. Yes-I-do, yes-I-do!” She stroked Clarence’s short, fuzzy, desperately panting muzzle. He went mad, squeaking and yipping, and rolling over in her lap for belly rubs.