And Then She Fell(75)
Lord Arthur wasn’t happy, but he accepted that their plan was the only sure way forward.
Lady Louise was eager to support any move by Henrietta to repair to the safety of the country—to Somersham Place, perhaps—but was reluctantly persuaded by Henrietta, who most effectively capped her argument by reminding her mother that, aside from avoiding being murdered, she had an engagement ball coming up, and a wedding shortly thereafter.
Mary, also present, listened to the tale wide-eyed, then, in typical Mary fashion, swung the discussion to the subject of how best to organize everyone into doing what they needed to do.
While James would normally have found Mary’s bossy nature trying, in this case, he was grateful. She soon had her mother and father organized to spread the word; they’d decided to limit the information, at least in the first instance, to members of the family and the staff of the Upper Brook Street house. Between those two groups, along with Charlie Hastings, Barnaby, and Penelope, Henrietta could be sure of always having others about her. That she readily accepted the need for being so constantly guarded was balm to James’s soul.
He, of course, was designated as Henrietta’s most frequent guard, a role Mary glibly assigned to him and with which he had no argument at all. In that capacity, once luncheon was over and Lord Arthur left to hunt down his brothers and his nephews, Simon left to find Charlie and later speak with Portia, and Lady Louise and Mary set out for Somersham House to speak with Honoria and from there to spread the word, to keep Henrietta amused James suggested that he and she do something useful with their afternoon and visit his house in George Street. “You can take a look around and see what you might like to have changed.”
With very real gratitude, Henrietta agreed. Although James’s house was only a few blocks away, she bowed to his request and ordered the smaller town carriage, the one she usually commandeered, to be brought around.
As Hudson, and via him the rest of the staff, had already been informed of the need to keep her constantly guarded, she wasn’t surprised to discover not only Gibbs and the coachman on the box but also Jordan, one of the footmen, up on the step behind.
She merely nodded at the trio, all stern-faced and looking watchfully around, and allowed James to hand her up into the carriage.
The house in George Street was a surprise; she’d expected a narrow town house, but instead James led her up the steps of a substantial older house with wide windows on either side of a porticoed front door. The front door itself was painted to a high gloss, and the brass knocker gleamed; James opened the door with a latchkey and held it wide . . . stepping over the threshold, eyes widening, she looked around, drinking in the elegant sweep of the staircase, the detailed moldings around the doors and arches, the oak half-paneling, and the paintings—lush landscapes—that hung on the green-papered walls.
“My grandaunt Emily’s, but I rather like them.” Closing the door, James came to stand by Henrietta’s side. Head tipping, he tried to see the scene through her eyes. “The paintings have grown on me.”
“They suit the place.” She swiveled in a circle. “This has a nice feel, a nice sense of balance. Elegant, but not overdone.”
He smiled, then the door at the rear of the hall swung open and his butler, Fortescue, came through.
“Good afternoon, sir.” Fortescue saw Henrietta, and his ageing eyes lit.
James introduced Fortescue; his staff knew of his betrothal and were eager to meet the lady who would be their new mistress.
Somewhat rotund, but turned out in impeccable style, with a regal demeanor and an innate stately air, although well past his prime Fortescue had forgotten more about butlering than most butlers ever learned; his low bow was nicely judged. “Welcome to this house, miss. The rest of the staff and I look forward to serving you in whatever way we may.”
“Thank you, Fortescue.” Henrietta looked questioningly at James.
“I’m going to take Miss Cynster on a tour of the house, but I suspect, this time, we’ll restrict ourselves to the principal rooms.” Meeting Henrietta’s gaze, James reached out and twined his fingers with hers. “We’ll start with the reception rooms on the ground floor, and then head upstairs.” He looked at Fortescue. “Perhaps you would warn Mrs. Rollins—we’ll have tea in the drawing room when we come down.”
“Indeed, sir.” Fortescue bowed to them both, then walked back to the staff door.
Retaining his hold on her hand, James drew Henrietta to the double doors to the right of the hall. “Mrs. Rollins is the housekeeper. Like Fortescue, I inherited her. Indeed, other than my man, Trimble, all the staff date from Grandaunt Emily’s day.”