Chapter Eighteen #3
She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He squeezed back, brief but earnest, and seemed a little steadier for it.
When she left his room, Serena found Ella waiting in the corridor.
“They’re almost here,” Ella said. “I saw a carriage on the drive from my window.”
Serena’s heart lurched. “Already? I thought they were not expected until this afternoon.”
“Apparently, they decided to arrive early.” Ella’s voice was carefully controlled, but Serena could see the tension in her shoulders, the wariness in her eyes. “Uncle Nate is in the entrance hall. He asked me to fetch you.”
“Thank you, Ella.” Serena smoothed her skirts, took a deep breath, and prepared herself for battle. “Let us go and greet our guests.”
They descended the stairs together, Ella walking beside Serena with the rigid posture of a soldier going to war. In the entrance hall, they found Nathaniel already waiting, dressed impeccably in a dark coat and pale waistcoat, his expression a careful mask of cordial welcome.
He caught Serena’s eye as she approached, and for just a moment—just a fraction of a second—the mask slipped. She saw the fear beneath, the determination, the love he was trying so hard to hide.
Then the moment passed, and he was Lord Greystone again, cool and composed and every inch the marquess.
“Miss Collard,” he said formally. “Thank you for joining us. I trust the children are prepared?”
“They are, my lord. Miss Ella has been very helpful in ensuring everyone is ready.”
“Excellent.” He turned to face the door as the sound of carriage wheels grew louder. “Then let us welcome our guests.”
The door swung open, and the Cranes swept into Greystone Hall.
Lady Crane was exactly as Serena had imagined her—tall, elegant, with sharp features and sharper eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
She wore a travelling dress of deep purple that somehow managed to convey both wealth and disapproval, and her mouth was set in a thin line that suggested a lifetime of finding things to criticise.
Sir Harold followed his wife like a shadow, a portly man with a florid face and the air of someone who was accustomed to agreeing with whatever his wife said.
He looked uncomfortable, Serena thought—as though he knew this visit was not merely social but did not entirely approve of what his wife had planned.
“Lord Greystone.” Lady Crane’s voice was cool and exquisitely modulated, devoid of warmth. “How obliging of you to receive us.”
“Lady Crane. Sir Harold.” Nathaniel inclined his head with punctilious courtesy. “Welcome to Greystone Hall. I trust your journey was not unpleasant?”
“The roads were passable.” Lady Crane’s gaze moved unhurriedly about the entrance hall, cataloguing each detail—the gleam of the marble floor, the placement of the flowers upon the side table, the immaculate livery of the footmen at attention.
“I see you have exerted yourself in anticipation of our arrival.”
“We are always prepared for guests, Lady Crane. Greystone Hall has long prided itself on its hospitality.”
Something flickered across her expression—amusement, perhaps, or disdain. “Indeed. I remember it well from my visits during Eleanor’s lifetime. She kept a very handsome house.”
The mention of Eleanor—the late marchioness—fell like a stone into still water. Serena saw Nathaniel’s jaw tighten almost imperceptibly before he answered.
“Eleanor was an excellent mistress of this household. I have done my utmost to maintain her standards.”
“Have you?” Lady Crane’s eyes swept over him, cool and appraising. “We shall see.”
Then her gaze settled upon Serena.
“And who might this be?”
The question was addressed to Nathaniel, yet Serena felt its weight settle squarely upon her. She straightened, lifted her chin, and met Lady Crane’s scrutiny without wavering.
“This is Miss Collard,” Nathaniel said. “The children’s governess. She has been with us several weeks and has proved invaluable to their education and general management.”
“Miss Collard.” Lady Crane lingered faintly on the name. “How very… young you appear.”
“I am four-and-twenty, my lady.”
“Indeed. And your qualifications?”
“I have served as a governess for four years. Prior to my engagement here, I was employed by Lady Ashworth of Bristol—who, I believe, is acquainted with Sir Harold’s family.”
It was a calculated gambit. Serena had done her research, had learned what she could about the Cranes’ connections, had armed herself with whatever weapons a governess could wield.
Lady Crane’s expression shifted—only a fraction, but enough. “You are acquainted with Lady Ashworth?”
“I was governess to her children for two years. She was kind enough to furnish me with a strong reference.”
“I see.” Lady Crane reassessed her openly now. “How… judicious of Lord Greystone to engage someone so well recommended.”
“I take the children’s education very seriously,” Nathaniel said smoothly. “It admits of no compromise.”
“Speaking of the children—” Lady Crane glanced about the hall. “Where are they? I had anticipated greeting them upon our arrival.”
“Ella is present.” Nathaniel gestured, and his niece stepped forward to execute a curtsy that was faultless in form and notably restrained in warmth. “Samuel and Rosie remain in the nursery. I thought it prudent to allow them time to settle before introductions.”
“Prudent?” Lady Crane’s tone sharpened. “I am their aunt, Lord Greystone—their mother’s sister. I should think they would welcome family.”
“I did not suggest otherwise,” he replied calmly. “Only that they might benefit from preparation. They will, of course, join us at dinner.”
Lady Crane appeared poised to object, but Sir Harold interjected mildly.
“That seems sensible, my dear. The journey was fatiguing, and I should value a period of rest. My constitution is no longer what it once was.”
Lady Crane cast him a look of faint irritation, then inclined her head. “Very well. We shall defer to your arrangements—for the present.”
The implication was unmistakable.
“Mrs McConnor will see you to your rooms,” Nathaniel said, as the housekeeper appeared with well-timed precision. “Dinner will be served at seven. I trust that will give you sufficient time to rest and refresh yourselves.”
“More than sufficient.” Lady Crane gathered her skirts and moved toward the stairs, then paused. “Oh—and Lord Greystone?”
“Yes, Lady Crane?”
“I should like to observe Miss Collard’s methods during our stay. A governess exerts considerable influence over her charges. I trust that influence has been… appropriate.”
The emphasis on that final word was deliberate. Calculated. A warning shot across the bow.
Nathaniel did not flinch. “Miss Collard’s influence has been exemplary. I am confident you will find the children’s progress most satisfactory.”
“We shall see,” Lady Crane repeated.
She ascended the stairs, Sir Harold following, leaving a chill behind her that had nothing to do with the grey morning light.
***
The moment the Cranes had disappeared, Nathaniel turned to Serena.
“Are you well?”
“I am quite so, my lord,” Serena replied evenly, mindful of listening ears. “Lady Crane is… formidable.”
“That is one description.” His mouth tightened. “I regret not having prepared you more thoroughly.”
“You prepared me well enough. I expected suspicion.” She smoothed her skirts. “The question is what she intends to do with it.”
Ella, who had stood silent throughout, spoke.
“She intends to watch. Everything.” Her tone was precise, almost detached. “That is what she did after the funeral. She questioned the servants. Examined the accounts. Consulted Papa’s solicitor. She was assembling a case then—and she is doing so now.”
Nathaniel looked at her, pride and sorrow mingling. “You observed all of that? You were nine.”
“I observe everything, Uncle Nate.” She met his gaze steadily. “She is not here to visit. She is here to find fault. And if she cannot find it, she will invent it.”
“She cannot simply fabricate accusations—” Serena began.
“Can she not?” Ella’s voice hardened. “She’s Lady Elspeth Crane.
Her husband is a baronet, her family has connections in Parliament, and she has spent two years telling anyone who would listen that Uncle Nate is unfit to raise us.
All she needs is a whisper of scandal, a hint of impropriety, and suddenly her accusations don’t seem so fabricated anymore. ”
The silence that followed was heavy.
“Then we offer her nothing,” Nathaniel said firmly. “We are irreproachable. In every respect.”
“For a fortnight?” Ella sounded unconvinced. “She will be watching constantly. One misstep—one moment of—” She stopped, her eyes flicking between them.
“We shall manage,” Nathaniel said. “Together.”
Ella studied him, then nodded. “Together. But be careful. Both of you.”
She departed, leaving Serena and Nathaniel alone.
“She knows,” Serena said quietly.
“She suspects.” Nathaniel’s voice was equally quiet. “Ella is observant, but she does not know anything for certain. And even if she did, she is loyal; she would never betray us.”
“And if Lady Crane sees what Ella has seen?”
“Then we deny it. We deny everything, Serena. We are employer and employee, nothing more. Whatever personal regard I might have for you is entirely appropriate given your excellent work with the children. There is nothing improper, nothing untoward, nothing that could possibly suggest anything inappropriate.”
The words were necessary. They still stung.
“Of course, my lord,” Serena replied coolly. “My conduct shall be beyond reproach.”
Nathaniel flinched—just perceptibly.
“Thank you, Miss Collard,” he said. “Your discretion is appreciated.”