Anne Herries - An Improper Companion

‘I shall press your gowns and you might like me to do your hair for you, miss—in the evenings when her ladyship entertains.’

‘Yes, perhaps.’ Elizabeth frowned—she had not expected to be assigned her own maid nor that her employer would give the kind of dinners that required her to need the services of a maid. However, she had brought all her best gowns with her so she would not disgrace her employer. ‘Could you both come back a little later, if you please? I should like to be alone for a moment.’

‘Yes, Miss Travers, of course. Come along, Mary. I will show you where we eat…’

Elizabeth washed her hands and made herself comfortable. She glanced at herself in the pretty dressing mirror, which was in the shape of a shield and in keeping with the rest of the furniture in the room. The furnishings were after the style of Mr Adam, she thought, and had obviously been replaced quite recently. It was an elegant, comfortable room and seemed to be one of the best guest bedchambers. That puzzled her a little, for she had not been sure what to expect.

Her cheeks grew warm again as she recalled the mockery in the Earl of Cavendish’s voice as he had spoken to his mother about her. So they had expected her to be a country mouse, had they? Elizabeth felt a pang of chagrin—she did not take kindly to the idea that she was an object of pity. It was true that her circumstances were altered, but she was still the daughter of a gentleman and she did not need—would not accept—charity. She had thought that Lady Isadora would be a kind employer, but she had expected to earn her keep and the dress allowance her employer had offered.

But what had the earl been hinting at when he spoke of a sacrificial lamb? Perhaps she had misunderstood him? After some thought, she decided that he must surely have been speaking on another matter, which had nothing to do with her at all.

She must not jump to conclusions that might be false, Elizabeth decided as she left the room and went back down the stairs to the parlour on the first floor. She felt a little tentative lest the earl should still be with his mother, but when she tapped at the door and was invited to enter, she soon discovered that Lady Isadora was alone.

‘Ah, there you are, my dear,’ she said, smiling at Elizabeth. ‘You have been very quick. I am sure it would take me much longer.’

‘I did not wish to keep you waiting, Lady Isadora.’

‘No, no, you must not be so formal when we are alone. Please call me by my name, Elizabeth.’

‘That would not be fitting for I hardly know you and must show respect. May I call you ma’am?’

‘Yes, of course, if you wish. But once you are settled here you may feel it easier to call me Isadora or Dora, as my friends do, Elizabeth. I know it must all seem very strange to you at first, but I live very simply here most of the time. Of course, it will be different when we visit Brighton in the summer—and perhaps Bath later in the year, for my health you know. I seldom go up to London—I find it too tiring.’

Elizabeth had imagined her employer to be a semi-invalid, but had begun to realise her mistake. Whatever her illness had been, it was obviously not serious enough to render her unfit for company.

‘Mama found London very tiring also. I think that is why we did not often visit. Papa went up on business a few times a year…’ Her words faltered. It was during one of his business trips that Sir Edwin had ruined himself and his family.

‘Yes, that sorry business was all very sad,’ Lady Isadora said, guessing what had brought that look of pain to her eyes, ‘but you must try to put it behind you now, my dear. You are too young to waste your life in regret. You have come here to be my companion, and I am truly in need of it at the moment, Elizabeth. We both have cause for grief, but we shall find ways to enjoy ourselves. Now that you are here I shall go visiting again…at least I shall in a few days, when I feel better.’ She gave a delicate cough and dabbed her lips with a lavender-scented kerchief. ‘But come and sit with me, Elizabeth. I was about to ask you if you would tell me about yourself before we were interrupted…’

Elizabeth blushed. ‘Does Lord Cavendish often visit you, ma’am?’

‘Hardly at all.’ His mother dismissed her son’s devotion with a wave of her hand. ‘You need not bother your head about him, Elizabeth. Cavendish has his own life and will not interfere with us. We shall live very quietly, entertaining just a few of my old friends…’

Elizabeth was relieved—she was not to know that her employer was sometimes economical with the truth and inclined to paint the picture in her mind rather than reality.

‘Mama and I have lived quietly this past year or so since…’ Elizabeth lifted her head. ‘And of course since she passed away I have been only in the company of Lord and Lady Wentworth.’

‘Ah, yes, it was so kind of Lady Wentworth to spare you to me. I dare say she wished to keep you with her, did she not? Her letter to me was most complimentary, Elizabeth.’

‘Oh, I did not know that she had written…’ Elizabeth was surprised and a little annoyed that her friend had gone so far. ‘Lady Wentworth was a good neighbour and friend to Mama these past twenty years. She wished me to make my home with her, but I could not accept charity. I had made up my mind to seek a position and your letter was most welcome. I hope that I shall be of some real service to you, ma’am.’

‘Well, certainly you will. I am sorely in need of someone to keep me from falling into a fit of the sullens.’ Lady Isadora smiled, hardly looking in need of any such assistance. ‘It was my dear Jane’s birthday just last week and I have felt a trifle off-colour ever since.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Elizabeth said, understanding perfectly that the occasion of her lost child’s birthday must have affected her. ‘Mama and I found Christmas very hard to bear—Papa loved entertaining all his friends and we always had wonderful celebrations at that time.’

‘You understand how I feel as no one else can,’ Lady Isadora said. ‘But we must not be sad, dearest Elizabeth. We shall make plans to entertain our friends—for my friends will all approve of you and so they will become your friends too.’

‘Yes, of course. I shall be happy to help you entertain them, ma’am. You must tell me what my duties are and I shall endeavour to please.’

‘Duties…’ Lady Isadora bit back the words that might have given her away; she thought of Elizabeth as a welcome guest, but did not want her to feel that she was being offered charity. ‘Well, I like to embroider now and then and my silks are for ever tangled. Also I am constantly leaving things behind and need someone to fetch them for me—and when I am feeling lazy I like to lie on my sofa and listen to a pleasant voice reading from one of Cavendish’s books. He has an extensive library, which you must feel free to use as you please—but most of all I need someone to talk to, Elizabeth.’

Elizabeth did not think that her duties sounded very onerous, but she would possibly find others for herself. She had noticed that some of the flowers in the various rooms were falling and had not been renewed for a day or so.

‘I enjoy arranging flowers, if you would like me to do that for you,’ she suggested tentatively.

‘Oh, yes, that is another little task I find too tiring,’ Lady Isadora lied. ‘And the Vicar is always asking me for flowers for the church—you might like to assist him in various ways. He is such a pleasant young man—too young to be alone. His wife died in childbed last year, you know, and the baby with her. It was such a shame, for he doted on her.’

‘That was a tragedy,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I am so sorry to hear of it.’