'Yes,' he said. 'Yes, we do. Do you know, I've never before heard my grandfather sing. I remember once he told me his voice scared small children and dogs.'
Rosalind said nothing, but she still stared at the empty wing chair lying on its side on the carpet.
30
Nicholas took a bite of his roast pork, and chewed quickly. Dinner had been the last thing on his mind when Block had waylaid them coming out of the library. 'Now that you are in the country, my lord, it is country hours you must observe.' He bowed. 'It is now well after six o'clock, nearly seven as a matter of fact and Cook is anxious to present you with her pee-ss de resistance.'
What was a poor beleaguered very newly married man to do? Strangle Block, that's a good start.
After Rosalind met the cook, Mrs. Clopper, tall and bony, dressed all in white, not a single food stain to be seen, and a mustache that looked like a thin swatch of black satin, Block steered them into the massive dining room.
Nicholas had no fond memories of this airless, gloomy room, but the table was set for the two of them and candles were lit. 'After this, Block,' he said, 'we will have our meals in the breakfast room. This room is so dark a half dozen thieves could be hiding in the shadows. I don't wish to come armed to my dinner.'
Block bowed. 'As you wish, my lord. Ah, I will now fetch Cook's white soup. It is renowned. She never serves her soup first, as perhaps you may remember, my lord, but tonight, she believed…'
Rosalind wasn't listening, she was breathing in murky air and studying dark corners. A single twelve-branch of candles stood in the middle of the table and cast strange shadows on a large bowl of muddy-looking grapes. She said, 'If Grayson saw this table, he would say it was at least three coffins long.'
'At least,' he said and gave her hand a squeeze, all of her he could reach. He heard Block clear his throat yet again, and whispered, 'Eat as much as you want, Rosalind, for I plan enough activity to skinny you to the bone.'
She smiled at him, though he saw that her eyes were a bit dilated, perhaps her face a bit pale.
The two of them, if asked, would have said the dinner was quite delicious, but in truth, neither particularly noticed the succession of dishes brought out by Block.
'I am quite fond of fig pudding,' Rosalind said finally, and forked up a small bite.
'I believe that is an apple tart.'
'Oh, dear.'
'Figs, apples, it doesn't matter, keep eating. You will need your strength.'
She took another bite. 'I believe you are right, it is apple. Do you know, Nicholas, I wonder if your grandfather will visit us in your bedchamber.'
'Our bedchamber. If Grandfather comes to sing us a lullaby, we will listen, I suppose, then applaud and politely ask him to leave, else he will find himself shocked to his ghostly toes.'
'If I know the lullaby, I could sing it with him.' She gave him a look from beneath her lashes.
She felt the urgency in him, heard it in his voice even though he sounded light and amused. Despite her excitement, she knew this was uncharted territory. She had to admit to a bit of apprehension, a bloodless word, really, when she felt her innards jumping with excitement mixed with terror.
'Nicholas? about this lovemaking business.'
He came to full attention, his focus on her. 'Yes?'
She waved her hand around her. 'This is all very civilized, I mean, we're eating our apple tarts, but now I'm thinking about what you're going to do to me as soon as you get me into the bedchamber.'
He did indeed have plans, wonderful, detailed plans. 'Did you look at all the pictures in the book Aunt Sophie gave you?'
'I tried to thumb through it quickly, but neither aunt would give me a moment's peace. I think they were embarrassed and regretted immediately giving it to me, but I held on, let me tell you.'
'If you wish, when we are in our bedchamber, we can look at the pictures together. Should you like that?'
'Yes. Well, no. I don't think I could do that with you peering over my shoulder, your eyes on the same things mine are on. The couples don't have any clothes on, Nicholas. There is not a single petticoat to froth up and hide things.'
'And the gentlemen in the pictures? Are they unclothed as well?'
'I looked at as many as I could while Aunt Sophie was trying to gently tug it out of my arms. I think I managed to get a brief glimpse of a good half dozen before-to be on the safe side-I folded it beneath my chemises in my valise hoping they wouldn't filch it. The gentlemen'-she cleared her throat-'well, they looked very strange, not at all like the little boys at Brandon House.'
'Strange how?'
'The front of them, low on the front of them-they looked deformed, big and puffed out and, well, one could not help but think there was a tree trunk sticking out of their stomachs.'
Nicholas laughed. 'Sounds to me like the artist was a man with a grand view of himself, a man who wanted to impress, and that led to a good deal of exaggeration to carry home the point.'
She sat forward, her fingers locked together. 'What point? I didn't see a point. Now, I don't wish to speak of that book anymore. I don't wish to dive beneath this table to hide my mortified self. I don't like to think what could be under this bloody table when it is dark, and no feet are there in a row to keep strange creatures away.'
He merely smiled at her. 'Finish your fig pudding. Let's go to the library and request that Grandfather not pay us any bridal visits. Then, we will enjoy ourselves, Rosalind. I promise you everything will be fine. I am your husband and you will trust me.'
She chewed on that a moment, then said to his surprise, 'Nicholas, do you know why your grandfather's chair fell over when I sang my song?'
Oh, he'd thought about that all right. 'We will discuss it, tomorrow at noon, at the earliest.'
Block came into the dining room, carrying another branch of lit candles. The light haloed his face, making him look like a ruddy-cheeked devil. 'I fancied you might wish to have your port now, my lord.'
Was that irony in Block's voice? Nicholas folded his napkin and laid it beside his plate. 'No, thank you, Block. We are going upstairs now. Is the house quiet and secure?'
'Yes, my lord. May I say I thought it particularly sensitive of Mr. Pritchard not to dine with you this evening, what with this being your very first evening together at Wyverly Chase, er, and your very first evening together as a married couple?'
'No, Block, you may not say it.'
Rosalind choked back a laugh. 'Please thank Cook for the delicious meal, Block. My lord?'
Nicholas pulled back her chair and took her arm. 'Good night, Block. Ah, tell Mr. Pritchard to hire some additional staff. I can't imagine Cook was pleased to clean all the pots and pans by herself. I will personally speak to each of them, allay their ghostly concerns.'
'Very well, my lord, but I don't hold much hope of gaining an additional servant. There's talk in the village, you see, and people are remembering your grandfather and the fact that there was no body.'
'I assure you, Block, when Grandfather died, he left his earthly remains behind. After all, what use would he have for his corporeal self in the hereafter?'
'As to that, my lord, you were only a lad, and didn't know anything at all. I remember well what was said by He Who Should Know.'
'Who would that be?'
'The physician. You remember Dr. Blankenship, my lord, a fussy little man with wheat-colored hair and eyes so pale he could stare at you and you wouldn't know it? He evidently whispered to his sister that when he made his final visit, the old earl wasn't snug in his coffin, as he should have been. You, my lord, were, of course, already gone.'
