“Your aunt is right,” Logan said. “She’s been all about-end with it, but can I convince her to stay elsewhere and let me deal with it?” He gave the old lady a fond look. “Stubborn as a mule she is and always has been.”
“Quite right,” Aunt Dottie said. “And I have no intention of changing.”
Lily smiled. Her brother, Cal, strongly disapproved of Logan’s informal manner toward their aunt, but Aunt Dottie insisted that she and Logan had known each other since she was fifteen, and to pretend otherwise was ridiculous. Nothing would convince her that a groom turned butler should not be treated as an old friend.
“Now go, Lily dearest, go. The longer you are here, the more chance of you catching the horrid thing.” Her aunt made shooing motions at her, then clapped her hands to her cheeks in sudden realization. “Oh! But where will you go? And why isn’t your husband with you? You haven’t lost him, have you?”
Lily laughed. “No, Aunt Dottie, Edward’s away on business, and don’t worry, I’ll spend the night at York House.” It was the finest of Bath’s hotels. “I’m a married woman now, you know, and have a great deal more freedom.”
“That’s all right then, dear. I suppose you’ll have to go back to London tomorrow—such an inconvenience. I could wring the neck of that wretched butcher’s boy. Give my love to everyone when you see them again. Now go, go. Flee and be healthy!”
Lily climbed back into the traveling chaise. Walton, the coachman, opened the little communication hatch in the roof of the carriage. “Where to now, ma’am?”
Lily thought for a minute. She didn’t want to go back to London. She didn’t want to live at the Pulteney without Edward, and staying with her family was out of the question while they still disapproved of Edward. Then an idea came to her. “You know where Shields, Lord Galbraith’s estate, is, don’t you, Walton?”
“Aye, in Hereford,” he said cautiously.
“Good. We’ll go there tomorrow, then.” Edward’s grandfather had issued her an open invitation, after all.
Besides, how could she resist an opportunity to learn more about her husband’s childhood home, the estate he had not visited in more than ten years, and for which he refused to take responsibility?
Chapter Nineteen
Teach me to feel another’s woe,
To hide the fault I see,
That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.
—ALEXANDER POPE, “THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER”
Somehow Lily had expected Shields to be sinister-looking, or grim, run-down and depressing, but as the carriage bowled up the tree-lined driveway, she saw that, on the contrary, everything looked to be in apple-pie order.
Shields was an ancient house, built in gray stone in the Gothic manner, but far from being sinister, it looked beautiful, open and welcoming, with gleaming many-paned Gothic windows. Crimson roses rambled over the gray stone, and the garden around the house was a riot of colorful spring flowers.
The setting too was lovely. To one side rolling fields of crops stretched green and gold to the horizon, and away behind the house, she could see the forest Edward had mentioned so long ago, one of the few things she knew about his childhood and his home. It looked ancient, the trees huge and gnarled, their branches spread magnificently, a thousand shades of green, shady and mysterious. A wonderful playground for an imaginative boy.
As the carriage pulled up, grooms ran up to tend the horses, and an elderly butler came carefully down the steps.
“May I help you, madam?” he said politely.
For a moment Lily didn’t know what to say. She’d come all this way unannounced, if not uninvited. “I’m Mrs. Galbraith,” she said. “Mrs. Edward Galbraith.”
His face lit up. “Mr. Edward’s wife,” he breathed. “We didn’t know, I mean, welcome, Mrs. Galbraith, welcome. Is, er . . .” He peered behind her, and she knew who he was hoping to see.
“I’ve come alone,” she said gently. “My husband isn’t with me.”
“Oh.” He made a valiant effort to hide his disappointment, mustered a bright smile and led her into the house. “Lord Galbraith will be delighted to see you, Mrs. Galbraith. He’s in the library. I am Fenchurch, the butler. Would you care to refresh yourself before I take you to him?”
She didn’t need to use the necessary but decided it would be politic to wash and tidy herself, so the butler could warn Lord Galbraith of his unexpected visitor and give the old man a few minutes to recover from the surprise—and perhaps his disappointment that she’d come alone—before he had to receive her.
She washed in a guest room, then came downstairs.
“My dear, dear girl.” Edward’s grandfather came toward her, wreathed in smiles. She was about to curtsey—she hadn’t given thought to how she should greet him—but he said quickly, “None of that formal nonsense, young Lily, you’re my granddaughter now and I’ll have a hug and a kiss from you, thank you very much.” He gave her a warm hug and grinned delightedly when she stood on tiptoe to kiss his leathery old cheek.
His likeness to Edward was uncanny. Lily felt as though she knew him, even though they’d only met a couple of times.
“Now, come into the warm, my dear child. Fenchurch will bring you tea and cakes—or would you prefer a glass of wine?” He escorted her into the library, a large room lined from floor to ceiling with shelves, filled with leather-bound tomes of every imaginable size. She’d never seen so many books in her life. A fire burned brightly in the hearth, making it very cozy.
“Now, sit ye down, child, and tell me what that silly chub of a grandson of mine has done to drive you all the way down here.
