What, indeed? She shook her head and managed a feeble smile of gratitude. She understood how Marie Antoinette must have felt when they moved her to the tower. Things were not going according to plan.
3
Crawling Through the Eye of the Needle
Lady Elizabeth felt like an orphaned waif sent to stay with wealthy relatives. She stood beside Robert in the white-marble entry of Lady Alameda’s enormous London manor house. It was breathtaking. Four towering Doric columns vaulted up several stories to a domed glass ceiling containing six oval windows, each adorned by paintings of naked cherubim. The walls were oyster white, simple, clean, understated elegance. A subtle plaster relief of Orpheus and the nine muses graced the wall opposite the staircase, and Grecian water bearers climbed the walls beside the marble stairs. As footmen unloaded their trunks and baggage, Elizabeth tried to appear staid and unintimidated.
“Extraordinary house.” Robert gawked like a bumpkin. “Most generous of you, Lady Alameda, to invite us to stay. Can’t tell you enough what a boon this will be.”
Their hosts, Lord St. Evert and his aunt, smiled patiently at them. The lady inclined her head. “You must think of Alison Hall as your home for the season.”
Lord St. Evert clapped Robert on the shoulder. “You are most welcome. Glad of the company.”
Elizabeth noted that, apparently, Lord St. Evert did not feel the necessity to extend his warm welcome to her. What did it matter? He was nothing more than an overly large, overly ripe leprechaun anyway, what with that absurd waspish coat and apple-green silk pantaloons which, although they were both green, did not complement one another at all, the coat being a bottle-green stripe. Making the entire outfit even more ridiculous, he wore a vivid blue waistcoat. All he needed to look a complete fop was to pouf out his overly long hair. Elizabeth sniffed and caught Lady Alameda scrutinizing her.
“You are twins, are you not?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
“How odd.” Lady Alameda tapped her cheek. “You don’t look at all alike.”
Surprised, she and Robert turned to one another, assessing the validity of her comment. Elizabeth saw in her brother the same black hair reflected in her mirror everyday, the same china-blue eyes, and a slightly larger image of her own nose, complete with the annoying bump in the middle marring its straight line. They were similar in almost every respect.
Robert nodded genially. “Oh, I see what she means. I am a full inch taller. I suppose that’s what comes of being male and female. When we were babes, no one could tell us apart. The tale goes that Papa threatened to paint our names on our foreheads. Naturally, now that we are older, there are bound to be differences.”
“You seem nothing alike to me. Hardly twins. Opposites, I should say. Rather like a guileless puppy” —she gestured loosely toward Robert—“and a... Valen, what is the name of that night-hunting creature? Is it a marmot?”
Elizabeth sucked in her breath. She didn’t know what a marmot was, but she felt certain it was an insult, no two ways about it. Obviously, the lady must have taken her into dislike. Elizabeth had no idea how to respond.
Lord St. Evert glanced briefly at Elizabeth and shook his head as if warning her not to say anything. “My dear aunt, surely you cannot mean a marmot? We have no marmots in England. They prefer the mountain climes. Cold-blooded, you see.”
Most definitely an insult.
He continued. “I saw one or two in the mountains of Europe. They look something like a hedgehog crossed with a badger.” He smiled genially at Elizabeth. “Lady Elizabeth is far too noble a creature for such a comparison.”
His elucidation failed to assuage Elizabeth’s injured emotions, and she couldn’t help thinking he had put several double meanings into his description.
“A hedgehog? Really?” Lady Alameda refused to let the matter lie. “I wouldn’t have thought it. Marmot. The very name sounds so sleek and dangerous, a predator to be reckoned with.” She winked at Elizabeth. “Not a mean, waddling badger, surely?”
Elizabeth could not tell if she was being gammoned or if her character was being roasted and served up on a platter. Either way, she heartily wished to be somewhere else.
Robert nudged her. “Tell you what, Izzie. I’ll trade you my puppy for your marmot. I’d much rather be thought sleek and dangerous.”
With a wry grin, Lord St. Evert tilted his head, watching her expectantly.
She took a deep breath as she struggled to find an effective rejoinder. When she could not, she gave up. “I will make you a bargain, Robert. You may keep your drooling puppy and take my waddling little hedgehog as well. I shan’t be requiring either.”
“Well done.” Lady Alameda smiled at her. “Still, I think it is too bad that a paltry creature bears such an interesting name, is it not? Perhaps, in the dark of night, the wily marmot doesn’t waddle at all. Perhaps it leaps out of trees and falls upon unsuspecting rabbits, ripping them to shreds with its pointed teeth.” The countess smiled cheerily at them, as if discussing the merits of a fine piece of lace rather than the violent and bloody demise of a hare. “It’s possible. After all, one cannot always judge by appearances.”
The very idea was so preposterous that Elizabeth shook her head to clear it. Leaping hedgehogs, indeed. Egad! She and Robert had moved in with a bedlamite.
Lord St. Evert flicked some lint off of his green-and-white striped sleeve. “I believe you’ll find that marmots would rather dine on grubs than unsuspecting bunnies.”
“Oh, Valen, do use a little imagination.” Lady Alameda waved away his skepticism. “Entertain possibilities. Consider what might be.” She directed their gazes to the ceiling with her spiraling palm. “It is so much more fun than always staring through the peephole at what is.” Her reverie drew to an abrupt halt, and she clapped her hands together. “Now come! Let me
