Chapter 27

C HAPTER 27

It took three coaches to travel to Lord Evermore's estate. Privately Hester thought that they could have done with two, but the Squire insisted on packing up multiple guns, in case of hunting, and Doom had an entire trousseau that half filled the baggage coach by itself.

Hester rode in the first coach with Imogene and Cordelia. "For you cannot possibly restore the town house without me," said Imogene, in Doom's hearing. "I won't hear of it."

"I wouldn't think of trying," Hester assured her. She was prepared to defend this, if the Squire asked, but he didn't. Possibly he was pleased at the propriety of another chaperone for his new daughter-in-law. More likely he simply didn't think of it at all.

Hester had been dreading the long ride in close quarters with Doom, but the woman chose to ride alongside Richard and the Squire, on the tall white horse with its pale green eyes. Hester hadn't been this close to the creature before, but looking into its pale eyes, she could readily believe that it wasn't entirely canny.

Still, it was a long, bruising ride, even so. The coach was old and not as well sprung as it could be. Her knee ached and she stretched it out as best she could, but there were limits to what she could do without kicking one of her companions. I shouldn't complain. Poor Mary is riding in the servants' coach, and that's a regular bone-rattler. She'll need a hot poultice more than I will, by the time we get in. Imogene tucked her chin against her chest and fell asleep with an ease that Hester envied. Cordelia simply stared out the window, watching the landscape pass. She had a distracted look, as if there was something on her mind.

Hester snorted at her own thoughts. Yes, what could she possibly have on her mind, other than a fake engagement, a murder, and a sorceress for a mother?

Eventually the coach halted. Hester looked out the window but saw only dense trees.

"Ladies," said Richard, as the driver opened the door, "you'll want to ride for this last bit. The carriage lane is full of potholes, and we can't repair it until it dries out for the summer. Your luggage will be carried up by wagon."

Hester was relieved to see that the horses brought up included several patient-looking ponies. Mounting with her knee was always unpleasant, and the taller the beast the worse it got.

Richard helped her up and then did the same for Cordelia, on a similar pony. Doom looked slightly irked by his choice, but she had the sense not to complain.

The path for the horses snaked through the woods that circled Evermore's house. Even on an overcast day like today, it blazed with green, as the new growth of spring erupted around them. Water dripped between the leaves, and insects hummed through the air.

"It's like a jungle," said Cordelia wonderingly, looking around her. The path was lined with ferns, and the enormous leaves of catalpa blotted out the sun.

"My grandfather's head gardener was a genius," said Evermore. "We have spent the last two generations simply trying to keep up what he created. Fortunately, I am told he left detailed notes—ah, here we are. Evermore House, in all its glory."

Hester had visited any number of times, but the sudden revelation of Evermore House after the thick wood still delighted her. The junglelike wood suddenly broke into low, lush ferns, bordering a broad lawn that rolled downward, with the manor house squarely in the center. It was barely half the size of Chatham House, but built entirely of tan stone, with two round towers reflected in a small lake. Where the Squire's manor had multiple wings, Evermore House was all one piece and generations of descendants had, quite sensibly, avoided sticking on extra architectural bits. This had required the addition of a number of outbuildings, but preserved the overall impression that one had just encountered a fairy castle dropped into the middle of the countryside.

So far as Hester was concerned, however, the best feature of the property was even now emerging from the lake, waddling rapidly toward them and honking loudly.

"Geese, milord?" said Evangeline, trying to sound haughty and amused, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the large number of geese that immediately swarmed around Falada's feet, some of them hissing like serpents.

"I'm allergic to dogs," said Richard. "Nevertheless, I must have something to raise an alarm if prowlers come calling. And they lay quite impressive eggs."

"Historically geese are wards against misfortune and evil magic," said Hester mildly.

"No one believes that old wives' tale anymore, surely," said Evangeline sharply.

"No, of course not, my dear," said the Squire hastily, shooting Hester a look.

"Merely an old story," agreed Richard pleasantly. "I suspect they may dislike your horse. I've never had a white horse here, now that I think of it. Perhaps they think he's a swan."

The white horse pawed the ground. The geese drew back to give him an inch or two, then immediately regrouped, hissing.

"They look very healthy," said Hester happily. "And that is a very fine gander there, and that one looks fit to grow up the same. Oh dear… no, that one over there needs to be culled, I expect. He's awfully short. Now how did you turn out like that, my lad?"

"You may take up all discussion of goose breeding with my master of fowl," said Richard.

"You have a master of fowl?" Doom sounded incredulous, then apparently caught herself and flashed Richard a smile. "Very sensible, of course. I can see they would require a dedicated… err… hand."

"He is mostly the second gardener," Richard admitted, "but as he is the primary keeper of the geese, we call him the master of fowl. Hester, I am not letting you get off that horse and take out that gander right now, so stop looking like that."

Hester harrumphed. Cordelia was clearly fighting back laughter. Imogene didn't even try to fight it back.

At the door of the manor, they slid off their horses—in Hester's case, a sturdy groom stepped forward to assist her, to her mild chagrin—and the doors of Evermore House opened before them.

Cordelia loved Evermore House immediately.

Despite its imposing appearance, the interior was very plain. The walls were covered with whitewash instead of wallpaper, and the floor was made of ancient oak planks, dark stained and rock-hard with age. Her bedroom lay in one of the towers and had a window seat that overlooked the grounds. The light from the window rippled off the coverlet in the way that only very expensive silk can ripple, but the rag rug on the floor was much like the one that had adorned the floor of Cordelia's bedroom in Little Haw, only cleaner and (apparently) rather newer.

This room doesn't make me feel like someone's poor relation, even though I am. Not that anyone at Chatham House ever tried to make me feel that way, but everything was so… so carelessly wealthy.

It reminded her of Penelope's lecture on style, and why she had refused to wear ruffles and saved a great deal of money and dignity in the process. This was a house that refused ruffles.

The bed had spindle posts, turned into elaborate knobbly pillars. Cordelia ran her hand up one, delighted by the way the shapes bulged out and tucked back in again.

"Don't rub the bed like that, dear, it looks vulgar." Her mother sailed in, looked around the room, and made a small huffing sound. "I see that you'll have your hands full redecorating this place. It looks like a convent."

"I rather like it," said Cordelia quietly.

"Don't be absurd. Evermore can afford not to live like a peasant. I'll be here to assist you, though, so you needn't worry." She went to the window seat and looked down. "The grounds, at least, are quite elegant, except for those wretched geese. I thought they were going to pursue him clear into the stables."

"Can they tell he's a familiar?"

"It seems likely. I can't say that I ever bothered spending much time among waterfowl, so perhaps they're all like that, though. Dreadful things. You'll have them turned into feather beds, naturally."

"Yes, Mother."

"Such a lot of work to be done. Still, we shall make a start on it as soon as I return." She sat down on the bed and patted the mattress beside her. Cordelia sat obediently.

Just get through the rest of the day. She's leaving in the morning. Leaving for weeks and weeks. You can get through today.

"Now," her mother said, "it is vital to remember, while I am gone, that you are still unmarried. Do you understand me? You must not allow anyone to place you in a compromising position and jeopardize your engagement."

"I'll be careful."

"That includes your fiancé."

Cordelia blinked at her, puzzled. How could her fiancé compromise her? He was already supposed to marry her, wasn't he?

Evangeline sighed. "Some men have a tendency to… ah… wish to anticipate the wedding. You must be on guard for such things! If word got out, it could damage your reputation terribly. Under no circumstances are you to allow yourself to be alone with Evermore, do you hear me? Go nowhere unless you have a suitable chaperone."

Her expression must have been suitably appalled, because her mother nodded, clearly satisfied. "I see you understand."

"I… think… so?"

"Good. It is only three weeks. And that is the only thing that you need to worry about." She rose to her feet, patting Cordelia's head absently, like a dog. Cordelia was surprised at the flash of rage she felt, but she squelched it immediately. Just get through today.

"Don't fret," her mother said cheerfully. "You'll be fine without me. It's not that long. And of course you won't be alone."

"Of course, Lady Hester and Lady Strauss will be here…"

"Those two!" Evangeline rolled her eyes. "Useless, both of them. No, I mean that I'm leaving you Falada."

Get through breakfast, Hester told herself. Get through breakfast and they'll go off on the honeymoon. You just have to get through breakfast without going across the table and throttling Doom or beating your brother around the head and shoulders while screaming "Don't you see what's going on!?"

But of course he didn't see. Samuel was the one person at the table who had no idea what was going on, which was probably why he seemed oblivious to any tensions taking place over the poached eggs.

"Such wholesome food," Evangeline said. "Lord Evermore, your cook has done wonders."

"Err… yes…" Richard said, looking over at the sideboard, which contained eggs, toast, bacon, and fresh asparagus, none of which had required any great culinary inspiration to prepare.

"And it is so charming to see the estate that my dear Cordelia will be mistress of! I am so sorry that we must rush off so quickly."

"Well, I am certain that when you return, Cordelia herself will be able to give you a tour," said Richard, while Cordelia turned a dull crimson and stared at her toast.

Imogene started to say something, but Hester had been watching her like a hawk and poked her smartly in the shin as soon as her mouth opened. Imogene turned it into a cough.

"You didn't have to smack me with your cane," she muttered, once the dreadful breakfast had come to a close and Evangeline had gone to make certain that all her trunks had been brought down.

"I absolutely did. I recognized that look."

"What look?"

"The I'm-about-to-say-something-extremely-clever look."

Her friend scowled, but didn't argue. "It was clever."

"Yes, and this is not the time to be clever, or have you forgotten what we're dealing with?"

Imogene muttered something else, but sufficiently under her breath that Hester didn't catch it.

"Everything in order?" asked the Squire, glancing at his pocket watch as Doom came traipsing down the stairs.

"Perfectly. Thank you so for your hospitality, Lord Evermore." She turned to Cordelia. "Come give me a kiss and mind your manners while I am gone."

"Yes, Mother," said Cordelia, kissing her dutifully on the cheek. The girl turned to the Squire. "I hope to see you back soon, sir."

"Mmm? Oh, yes, yes, quite." Samuel patted her arm in a distracted fashion. "Back before you know it."

Hester was surprised by a sudden rush of affection for her brother. Loud, satisfied, and oblivious as he often was, she loved him very much, and she was sending him off with the proverbial viper in his bosom. And other, rather lower bits, if we're being honest. Dammit, Samuel. She won't kill you, it would be foolish to kill you, both she and Cordelia would have to go into mourning for a year and she wants Cordelia safely married off first, but I still feel like I'm abandoning you.

She hugged him tightly. "Here now, old girl," he said, looking surprised. "Only going to be gone a few weeks. Not like we're sailing to the old country, or dropping off the face of the earth."

"I know," she said, stepping back. "Just… err… be happy."

"Happiest man in the world," he assured her, glancing at his watch again. "Blast, is everything ready? Why do these things take so long…?"

The carriage was announced to be ready and waiting at the edge of the estate. Cordelia and Hester stood on the step and waved as the Squire and his doom rode away, down the road and into the gap in the trees.

Long after the last sign had vanished, Hester leaned on the doorframe. "Well," she said, and exhaled. "They're gone."

Cordelia wiped at her eyes. "I don't know why I'm crying," she said. "I'm relieved, really."

"That's probably why you're crying. Come on." Hester turned. "Let's go take a look at this library of Richard's, and see what we can see."