Devil's Daughter (The Ravenels #5)(13)

“I’m so delighted to have you here,” Kathleen said, taking Phoebe’s hands in her small ones. “How was the journey?”

“Splendid,” Phoebe said. “Justin found the train ride very exciting, and the baby seemed to enjoy the swaying.”

“If you like, I’ll show your nanny and the children up to the nursery. Perhaps you’ll want to have a look?”

“Yes, but must you leave all your guests? We could have a housemaid show us the way.”

“They can do without me for a few minutes. I’ll explain the layout of the house as we go. It’s a labyrinth. Everyone gets lost the first day or two. We have to send out search expeditions every few hours to collect the stragglers.”

In most grand households, children, nursemaids and nannies were usually relegated to the servants’ stairs in the back, but Kathleen insisted they use the central staircase during their stay. “The nursery is much easier to reach this way,” she said as they ascended.

Phoebe carried Stephen, while Justin held Nanny’s hand and pulled her along like a small, determined tugboat towing a freighter. At each landing, Phoebe caught glimpses of rooms through wide-open doorways, some with fireplaces large enough to stand in.

For all its size, the house had a friendly, cozy feeling. The walls were covered with antique French and Italian tapestry hangings, and oil paintings in heavy gilded frames. She saw signs of the manor’s venerable age: exposed joists sagging a little here or there, scarred places on the oak floors, thin patches on the Aubusson carpeting. But there were notes of luxury everywhere: jewel-toned Venetian-glass lampshades, Chinese porcelain vases and tea jars, sideboards holding heavy silver trays of liquor in glittering decanters. The air smelled like old books, fresh flowers, and the agreeable whiff of furniture polish.

When they reached the nursery, Phoebe saw that a footman had already conveyed her children’s carriage box of clothes and supplies upstairs. The spacious room was filled with charming child-sized furniture, including a table and chairs and an upholstered settee. Two children napped on small cots, while Kathleen’s son Matthew slept soundly in his crib. A pair of white-aproned nursemaids came forward to meet Nanny Bracegirdle, smiling and whispering as they introduced themselves.

Kathleen showed Phoebe to an empty crib lined with soft embroidered bedding. “This is for Stephen,” she whispered.

“It’s perfect. If I were just a bit smaller, I might try to curl up in there myself.”

Kathleen smiled. “Why don’t I show you to your room, and you can nap in a proper bed?”

“That sounds like heaven.” Phoebe kissed and nuzzled Stephen’s warm, silky head before giving him to the nanny. She went to Justin, who was investigating a set of shelves filled with toys and books. He had taken interest in a toy theater with changeable backdrops and a box of painted cutout characters. “Will you like staying here, darling?” she asked softly, kneeling beside him.

“Oh, yes.”

“Nanny will be here with you. Tell her or one of the nursemaids if you want me, and I’ll come.”

“Yes, Mama.” Since he didn’t like giving kisses in front of strangers, Justin surreptitiously pressed his lips to the tip of his forefinger and held it out. Phoebe did the same and touched her fingertip to his. They exchanged a smile after the secret ritual. For an instant, the crescent shapes of his eyes and the little crinkle of his nose reminded her of Henry. But the wisp of memory didn’t come with the expected twinge of pain, only a trace of wistful fondness.

Phoebe left the nursery with Kathleen, and they went back down to the second floor.

“I remember how it felt to come out of mourning after losing my first husband,” Kathleen said. “For me, it was like leaving a dark room and going into the glare of daylight. Everything seemed too loud and fast.”

“Yes, that’s exactly how it feels.”

“Do whatever you like here, just as you would at home. You mustn’t feel obliged to take part in any activities that don’t appeal to you. We want very much for you to be comfortable and happy.”

“I’m sure I will be.”

They went down a second-floor hallway and reached a bedroom where Ernestine, her lady’s maid, was in the process of unpacking her trunks and boxes.

“I hope this room will do,” Katherine said. “It’s small, but it has its own dressing room and washroom, and a view of the formal gardens.”

“It’s lovely.” Phoebe looked over the room with pleasure. The walls were covered in French paper featuring a delicate vine pattern, with a fresh coat of white paint covering the trim and panel work.

“I’ll leave you, then, while you settle things to your liking. At six o’clock, we meet in the drawing room for sherry. Dinner is at eight. Formal dress, but after the newlyweds leave tomorrow, we’ll be easy and casual.”

After Kathleen had left, Phoebe watched Ernestine unearthing stacks of carefully folded linens and neat little parcels from an open trunk. Every pair of shoes had its own little plain-woven drawstring bag, and every pair of gloves had been tucked into a narrow pasteboard box.

“Ernestine,” she said, “you’re a marvel of organization.”

“Thank you, milady. It’s been so long since we’ve gone away from Heron’s Point, I’d almost forgotten how to pack.” Still kneeling by the trunk, the slim, dark-haired young woman looked up at her with a box of trimmings in hand, which had been removed from hats and caps to prevent them from being crushed. “Shall I air out your ecru dress while you nap?”