Anne Perry - The Face of a Stranger

Hester absorbed this thought in silence, turning it over in her mind. Absently she pulled her feet out of the basin at last and began to dry them on the towel.

Callandra stood up. "You will join us in the withdrawing room for tea? It is usually very good as I remember; there is nothing wrong with your appetite. Then later we shall discuss what possibilities there are for you to exercise your talents. There is so much to be done; great reforms arc long overdue in all manner of things, and your experience and your emotion should not go to waste."

"Thank you." Hester suddenly felt much better. Her feet were refreshed and clean, she was extremely hungry, and although the future was a mist with no form to it as yet, it had in half an hour grown from gray to a new brightness. "I most certainly shall."

Callandra looked at Hester's hair. "I shall send you my maid. Her name is Effie, and she is better than my appearance would lead you to believe." And with that she went cheerfully out of the door, humming to herself in a rich contralto voice, and Hester could hear her rather firm tread along the landing.

Afternoon tea was taken by the ladies alone. Rosamond appeared from the boudoir, a sitting room especially for female members of the household, where she had been writing letters. Fabia presided, although of course there was the parlor maid to pass the cups and the sandwiches of cucumber, hothouse grown, and later the crumpets and cakes.

The conversation was extremely civilized to the point of being almost meaningless for any exchange of opinion or emotion. They spoke of fashion, what color and what line flattered whom, what might be the season's special feature, would it be a lower waist, or perhaps a greater use of lace, or indeed more or different buttons? Would hats be larger or smaller? Was it good taste to wear green, and did it really become anyone; was it not inclined to make one sallow? A good complexion was so important!

What soap was best for retaining the blush of youth? Were Dr. So-and-so's pills really helpful for female complaints? Mrs. Wellings had it that they were little less than miraculous! But then Mrs. Wellings was much given to exaggeration. She would do anything short of standing on her head in order to attract attention.

Frequently Hester caught Callandra's eyes, and had to look away in case she should giggle and betray an unseemly and very discourteous levity. She might be taken for mocking her hostess, which would be unforgivable- and true.

Dinner was a quite different affair. Effie turned out to be a very agreeable country girl with a cloud of naturally wavy auburn hair many a mistress would have swapped her dowry for and a quick and garrulous tongue. She had hardly been in the room five minutes, whisking through clothes, pinning here, flouncing there, rearranging everything with a skill that left Hester breathless, before she had recounted the amazing news that the police had been at the hall, about the poor major's death up in London, twice now. They had sent two men, one a very grim creature, with a dark visage and manner grand enough to frighten the children, who had spoken with the mistress and taken tea in the withdrawing room as if he thought himself quite the gentleman.

The other, however, was as charming as you could wish, and so terribly elegant-although what a clergyman's son was doing in such an occupation no one could imagine! Such a personable young man should have done something decent, like taking the cloth himself, or tutoring boys of good family, or any other respectable calling.

“But there you are!'' she said, seizing the hairbrush and beginning on Hester's hair with determination. "Some of the nicest people do the oddest things, I always say. But Cook took a proper fancy to him. Oh dear!" She looked at the back of Hester's head critically. "You really shouldn't wear your hair like that, ma'am; if you don't mind me saying." She brushed swiftly, piled, stuck pins and looked again. "There now-very fine hair you have, when it's done right. You should have a word with your maid at home, miss-she's not doing right by you-if you'll excuse me saying so. I hope that gives satisfaction?"

"Oh indeed!" Hester assured her with amazement. "You are quite excellent."

Effie colored with pleasure. "Lady Callandra says I talk too much," she essayed modestly.

Hester smiled. "Definitely," she agreed. "So do I. Thank you for your help-please tell Lady Callandra I am very grateful."

“Yes ma'am.'' And with a half-curtsy Effie grabbed her pincushion and flew out of the door, forgetting to close it behind her, and Hester heard her feet along the passage.

She really looked very striking; the rather severe style she had worn for convenience since embarking on her nursing career had been dramatically softened and filled out. Her gown had been masterfully adapted to be less modest and considerably fuller over a borrowed petticoat, unknown to its owner, and thus height was turned from a disadvantage into a considerable asset. Now that it was time she swept down the main staircase feeling very pleased with herself indeed.

Both Lovel and Menard Grey were at home for the evening, and she was introduced to them in the withdrawing room before going in to the dining room and being seated at the long, highly polished table, which was set for six but could easily have accommodated twelve. There were two joins in it where additional leaves could be inserted so it might have sat twenty-four.

Hester's eye swept over it quickly and noticed the crisp linen napkins, all embroidered with the family crest, the gleaming silver similarly adorned, the cruet sets, the crystal goblets reflecting the myriad lights of the chandelier, a tower of glass like a miniature iceberg alight. There were flowers from the conservatory and from the garden, skillfully arranged in three flat vases up the center of the table, and the whole glittered and gleamed like a display of art.

This time the conversation was centered on the estate, and matters of more political interest. Apparently Lovel had been in the nearest market town all day discussing some matter of land, and Menard had been to one of the tenant farms regarding the sale of a breeding ram, and of course the beginning of harvest.

The meal was served efficiently by the footmen and parlor maid and no one paid them the slightest attention.

They were halfway through the remove, a roast saddle of mutton, when Menard, a handsome man in his early thirties, finally addressed Hester directly. He had similar dark brown hair to his elder brother, and a ruddy complexion from much time spent in the open. He rode to hounds with great pleasure, and considerable daring, and shot pheasant in season. He smiled from enjoyment, but seldom from perception of wit.

"How agreeable of you to come and visit Aunt Callan-dra, Miss Latterly. I hope you will be able to stay with us for a while?"

"Thank you, Mr. Grey," she said graciously. "That is very kind of you. It is a quite beautiful place, and I am sure I shall enjoy myself.''

“Have you known Aunt Callandra long?'' He was making polite conversation and she knew precisely the pattern it would take.

"Some five or six years. She has given me excellent advice from time to time."

Lady Fabia frowned. The pairing of Callandra and good advice was obviously foreign to her. "Indeed?" she murmured disbelievingly. "With regard to what, pray?"

"What I should do with my time and abilities," Hester replied.

Rosamond looked puzzled. "Do?" she said quietly. "I don't think I understand." She looked at Lovel, then at her mother-in-law. Her fair face and remarkable brown eyes were full of interest and confusion.

"It is necessary that I provide for myself, Lady Shel-burne," Hester explained with a smile. Suddenly Callan-dra's words about happiness came back to her with a force of meaning.