Masquerade Secrets(25)

Her back straight, she waited in the carriage with a facade of poise and  patience, although she didn't feel either at the moment.

With a click, the door swung open, sunlight beaming into the gloomy  carriage, temporarily blinding her. Ignoring the bright spots in her  vision, she descended the carriage steps like a queen, careful not to  miss a step. But it wouldn't have mattered if she had. There was no one  outside to witness the disgrace.

Not a single person had turned out to greet her.

Flabbergasted, she could only stare at the entrance, completely  astounded by their lack of manners. They should have been expecting her.

But this was Scotland, she thought in distaste. Perhaps they were as uncivilized as others had claimed.

What was she to do? Walk up to the door and knock? It was appalling.

Gritting her teeth, her only thoughts were on entering the house, ordering a bath, and collapsing into bed.

Her soft, kid-slippered foot climbed the first step, completely white against the almost black stone.

Black.

The stark color decimated the glittering, fairytale white she had  envisioned. But as she slowly looked up, absorbing the dark, weathered  stone, and the small paned windows that looked like the slitting eyes of  an oppressive beast, she shuddered.

It was old, and it wasn't a stretch to imagine that it was standing  strong in its prime when William the Conqueror had arrived. But that was  eight hundred years ago.

And she was expected to live here? How barbaric.

Snatching up her skirts, she marched to the door, knocking briskly. A  twinge had her rubbing her gloved knuckles. The studded wood was  sturdier than it looked.

As the seconds passed, Victoria's patience began to wane.

Where were all the servants? Glancing over the vast estate, taking in  the manicured gardens and clean walkways, she knew that many hands had  labored to make it flourish. Yet not a single person was in sight.

With a faint groan, the door opened.

"Ah, Your Grace, I presume." The older gentleman opened the door wider in invitation. "Please come in. You've been expected."

"I've been expected?" Her spine straightened. "If I was expected, why was no one outside to greet me?"

The old man had the presumption to take a second look at her, his face  scrunching up as if he smelled something foul. "My deepest regrets, Your  Grace. The staff were otherwise occupied and could not be spared."

"Fine, then." It was useless to state her complaints to a servant. She  would have to wait to speak with the Dowager Countess or the Earl about  their lack of hospitality.

"Would you like to freshen up before you meet with the Dowager Countess?"

To have the meeting over with, allowing her to relax the rest of the  evening, sounded like heaven. But no matter how she had been received,  she could not go to the woman worn and covered in dirt from her travels.  "Yes, thank you."

"Follow me. I'll lead you to your room."

Stepping into the marbled foyer, she was surprised to see that it had  been recently renovated. The wood paneling gleamed with new polish, and  the floors sparkled in a way that was only possible with newly cut  stone. The palate was tasteful in an array of light, clean colors, so  different from the outside of the manor that it was hard to believe that  they were the same building.

The carefully-laid carpets were thick beneath her feet, silencing her  steps as she walked down the hall behind the slightly hunched servant.  She smelled flowers and wasn't surprised to see a combination of bottles  and vases, bursting with color, in different nooks along the hallway.  The manor seemed bright and orderly, but there was something eerie that  cast a shadow over its cheerfulness.

As they walked down another corridor, she felt her unease intensify. The  voices that normally carried in larger homes were absent.

If asked, she would wager that the butler and she were the only two  people in the house. But that couldn't be true. She would be meeting  with the Dowager Countess in a few minutes. Plus, with the repairs and  the carefully tended grounds, it was obvious that the estate employed an  extensive staff.         

     



 

"Where are the other servants?"

The man threw a look over his shoulder, telling her with his eyes to  mind her own business, but eventually he grated out, "They are attending  to their duties in other areas of the manor."

She didn't doubt his words, but it seemed so odd. She had never been on  an estate that didn't have at least a servant or two constantly  underfoot.

With an ominous creak, he pushed open a thickly wooded door. "This will  be your room for the duration of your stay. I hope you find it to your  satisfaction." Stepping back, he allowed her to enter the room first.

Her mouth fell open, but she immediately shut it. If she had been unsure  of the recent remodel to the first floor, she wasn't now. Her  furnishings, while appearing sturdy, were several styles outdated and  had surely seen better days. Faded by too much sunlight, and a bit  frayed on the edges, one of the chairs adjacent to the fireplace was so  melancholy that she took a step in retreat. "This is unacceptable.  Surely there is an updated room that I may stay in." She looked to the  servant for confirmation. "I'm sure there has been some mistake."

The man's lips thinned into a flat line. "There has been no mistake,  Your Grace. This is the room the Earl had made ready for you.  Unfortunately, while the house is undergoing renovations, the guest wing  has not yet been seen to. It isn't often that the Earl has visitors."

"I see. Well apparently this is another item I will have to take up with the Earl."

The man didn't blink. "A servant will bring up your trunks shortly. Use  the bell pull next to the fireplace and a maid will be sent to lead you  to the Dowager Countess." Without even a by-your-leave, the man turned  and stalked off.

Apparently, the servants were given too much rein at Lynfield Hall. That  type of behavior would never be accepted elsewhere. The Earl and  Dowager Countess must be completely ignorant of their servants' conduct.

Moving to the wash stand, she tried to pour water into the receptacle before cursing.

Empty.

She replaced the pitcher with a look of distaste, realizing that the  manor wasn't as properly staffed as she had first thought. If the  servants couldn't manage the basic needs of a single guest, she  shuddered to think of what else they neglected.

Good Lord, at this point she might even have to heat her own water. The thought filled her with horror.

"Never. I'll hire my own servant if needs be." She may be required to  comfort the older woman, but she would never stoop to the position of a  maid.

Inspecting herself in the mirror, she tidied her hair, smoothing the strands that had escaped the confines of her pins.

A knock sounded at the door. "Come in," she called out.

A servant hauled one of her trunks to the foot of the bed. He didn't  bother with words, just narrowed his eyes at her before leaving.  Apparently, the servants had decided to dislike her.

Oh well, she shrugged, it wasn't the first time. As long as they did  their duty and served her well, she didn't need their civility.

She rang the bell before reaching into her trunk, pulling out a dress to  inspect it for wrinkles. While it wasn't perfect, it would have to do.

Another knock.

"Would you like me to escort you to her ladyship, Your Grace?" a petite red-headed maid asked, curtsying with the question.

"Not yet." Victoria motioned her into the room before turning to reveal  the long row of buttons down the back of her dress. "I need your help  changing."

"I am not a lady's maid, Your Grace."

Victoria arched a brow at the woman. While not hostile, the maid was  definitely ambivalent about assisting her. It was a minor relief to know  that servant gossip spread as quickly here as it did in London.

"Are you capable of unbuttoning this?"

The girl blushed. "Yes, Your Grace," she said before moving forward to  give her aid. When done fastening up the, thankfully fewer, buttons on  the fresh gown, the woman backed away to hover near the door.

With a last pinch to her cheeks, Victoria turned from the mirror. "Please take me to Her Ladyship."

With a quick bob, the woman turned and fled the room, setting a pace  that allowed Victoria to follow, but just barely. Pausing at a door  several hallways away, the girl knocked quietly, waiting for an  invitation inside. It took several seconds, but a woman's soft voice  called out for them to enter.

The room, decorated in pastels and curvy, delicate furniture, must have  been a high priority on the refurbishing schedule. No man could ever  truly be comfortable in such a place.

"Lady Victoria." The servant girl gave one last curtsy before fleeing as if a monster chased at her heels.         

     



 

"You may be seated." The older woman's voice was scratchy, almost as though she hadn't used it in years.

Moving to sit in a chair across from the lady, Victoria noted the  woman's black crepe dress and the lack of jewelry which would have  softened her attire.