"I have been reconciled to that status for several years," Eleanor said.
"How queer you are," the duchess snapped. "Well, I'll make it blunt, then. Lisette formed an unfortunate attachment to a gentleman."
"She never seemed very interested when we were girls," Anne observed.
"That could be due to the fact that she is unable to hold an interest in any subject for more than a day or two," Eleanor pointed out. "It's hard to imagine a man holding sway. She certainly never mentioned anything in her letters. Although to be fair, she has developed what seems to be a long-
term interest in helping orphaned children."
"I blame Beatrice," their mother said darkly. "I have done my duty by you girls. Neither of you would ever shame me by an illicit liaison." She shuddered.
"Was the gentleman ineligible?" Eleanor asked, thinking it best to draw her mother's attention quickly away from the putative chastity of her own daughters.
"I shall never reveal that," the duchess announced, taking on the tone of a martyr facing a hostile crowd. "I promised Beatrice that I would take the truth to my grave. But—" ^ She relented suddenly, lowering her voice, "I will tell you that the child—"
"Child!" Eleanor exclaimed. "You didn't say there'd been a child!"
"I said a catastrophe," her mother replied. "And believe me, in cases such as these, the words are one and the same. We shall speak no more of it. Look at this house! Beatrice would be horrified by the muddle. But I am not one to criticize; I understand the difficulty of keeping household help." It was certainly true that the duchess's acerbic comments had a tendency to drive said household help straight out of said household.
Finally the groom's repeated bangs on the door produced a response. A butler was trotting down the main steps, bowing slightly from the waist as he came, as if he wanted to get a head start on his salutations.
"Your Grace," he said, swinging into a deep bow like a marionette. "This is such a pleasure, such a pleasure. I'm afraid that the Duke of Gilner is not at home, but I shall send him a message."
"Absolutely not," Eleanor's mother declared with a wave of the hand. "I didn't come to see Gilner, but his daughter. This is nothing more than a pleasant little visit, a matter of a few days at the most.
Between friends."
Because the butler was still blinking at her rather than escorting them directly into the house, she said, "Lady Lisette is in residence, is she not?"
"Of course," he said, "but I'm afraid that Lady Marguerite is paying a visit to a relative. She'll be back tomorrow afternoon."
"Well, then, bring us to our chambers so that we can refresh ourselves after this journey," the duchess commanded. "It may be only a few hours from London, but you would not countenance the dust. At one point I thought I was sure to suffocate."
Eleanor was interested to see how distressed the butler appeared to be. He was literally wringing his hands. "Perhaps there are no free chambers?" she inquired.
He rushed into speech. Apparently, there were more than enough chambers, but in Lady Marguerite's absence—
Her mother lost her patience immediately and waved him quiet. "Eleanor, did I not instruct you to write a note announcing our visit?"
"I did, Mother. Perhaps Lady Lisette neglected to inform you?" Eleanor said, giving the butler a smile.
"Be kind enough to escort us to some chambers, my good man," the duchess said before he could answer. "I am not used to parrying words with a butler in the open air!"
The man tore back up the stairs as if the devil were behind him. Eleanor, Anne, and their mother followed, trailing a phalanx of groomsmen carrying their trunks, the sheer number of which belied the question of a visit of a mere day or two.
The moment they entered the house the source of the butler's distress became obvious. If the estate's grounds were somewhat disorganized, the entrance hall was a jumble.
The hall was designed in a graceful circle stretching to the second floor, which was encircled by a banister. But at the moment that banister was apparently serving as an impromptu place for dirty laundry. It was hung with sheets that swayed in the breeze of the open door.
"An odd way to manage your linens," the duchess said, turning in a stately circle and craning her neck. "I can't say I recommend it. And these sheets are disgracefully unclean. What is your name?"
"Popper, Your Grace," the butler said, looking miserable. "They're not laundry, Your Grace, but backdrops for the play."
"Those appear to be trees," Eleanor said, pointing to a sheet marked with blotches that might have represented a forest in a high wind.