CHAPTER NINE
Lucy jumped and looked up. The woman she had seen on her first day here was standing halfway to the breakfast table, her dark eyes glued to Lucy’s features.
She was heavily pregnant, the protrusion emphasised by the currently fashionable high waistline, and looked even grosser than when Lucy had seen her on the stairs.
Her hair was largely concealed beneath a turban-style cap that did nothing for the shape of her face, just now swollen with the added weight of her condition.
But what was visible matched Lucy’s own colouring.
All at once, a memory crashed into Lucy’s mind: Mrs Ankerville, commenting on the similarities of feature so obvious that she took Lucy and this stranger for sisters.
The shock took her breath away, and she was unable to utter a word, which most unfortunately allowed Lady Sarclet to get in first. “So she is still with you.”
Predictably, Dion rose to the bait. “Of course she is. Surely Corisande told you we went only to fetch Lucy’s trunks?”
Lady Sarclet came to the table, still fixing Lucy with an unloving eye. “I will take a cup of coffee with you, Dion, if there is some in the pot.”
Dion cast a frantic look at Lucy, rolling her eyes in the way she had. She reached for the coffee, nearly knocking over the pot in her agitation. “I’m not sure there is any left.”
Lady Sarclet pulled out a chair opposite Lucy and sat down. “Then send for some more. Why do you suppose you have servants in the place?”
Rising, Dion crossed to the bell-pull, throwing grimaces of warning and exasperation at Lucy behind the woman’s back. Far from comfortable herself, Lucy summoned her best deferential manner. “How do you do, Lady Sarclet?”
“You know who I am?”
The tone was cold, and a shiver of apprehension went through Lucy. There could be no doubt there was suspicion here. She wished Stefan had been within call. She had never felt more in need of rescue.
“Of course she knows who you are,” Dion cut in, saving Lucy from having to answer. “Though I should have presented you formally.”
Returning to the table, she made an elaborate gesture towards the intruder. “This is our cousin Paulina. Or rather, Lady Sarclet.”
“Superfluous, Dion.”
“And this,” pursued Dion, ignoring the interpolation, “is Lucy Graydene.”
“Which tells me nothing at all.”
Dion sat down. “Well, I can’t see that it is of any importance.”
“Why not?” Lady Sarclet’s eyes at last left Lucy’s face, turning to her cousin. “Is there some secret about this Miss Graydene you do not wish me to know about?”
This was so near the bone that Dion gasped, throwing a frantic glance at Lucy. Urgency fed Lucy’s imagination. “I am here to help Mrs Ankerville.”
Dion threw her a grateful look, but Lucy was instantly disconcerted by the intent glance which came her way from Lady Sarclet.
“Indeed? She said nothing of it to me the other day.”
“Well, you know how forgetful Corisande is. I dare say she had her mind full of troubadours. It was all she could think of when we returned.”
Lady Sarclet’s smile was thin. “You underestimate your mama, Dion.”
This was perfectly true, as Lucy had had occasion to observe. She began to feel her half-sister was a force to be reckoned with.
Dion was inclined to bristle. “I think I know Corisande better than you, Paulina.”
The dubious smile was replaced with a sour look. “Do we ever know our own parents? Of course I never knew my mother, for she died before I was of an age to remember her.”
“Yes, you poor thing,” uttered Dion, in a tone of sympathy Lucy at least recognised as spurious. “Such a pity your papa never married again.”
Lucy watched her half-sister’s mobile mouth turn to a sneer. “Not in my book. I never felt the lack of a mother. I liked being the mistress of this house, as I was from an early age.”
“Yes, and you never let us forget it, do you?” said Dion sweetly.
The dagger look she received was met with a limpid smile. Lucy almost laughed out, but for the churn of maggots in her stomach which kept her on tenterhooks. Where in the world was Stefan? Why must he go riding just when he was most needed?
The door opened precisely at that moment, but it was only the butler in answer to the bell.
“Oh, Hawkesbury,” uttered Dion, obviously glad of the interruption. “Would you be so kind as to bring more coffee for Lady Sarclet?” She looked at her cousin. “Is there anything else you would like, Paulina? We must not forget you are eating for two.”
With difficulty Lucy stifled a giggle, but Lady Sarclet waved a dismissive hand. “Coffee is all I require, I thank you. You may go, Hawkesbury.”
Dion’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she turned to the butler, but her tone was utterly charming. “Thank you, Hawkesbury.”
It did not appear to Lucy that her half-sister appreciated the irony of Dion’s action. It was plain she was unable to shake off the habit of being mistress of Pennington.
The departure of the butler seemed a signal for Lady Sarclet to resume her catechism on Lucy’s presence in the house. “When I saw you, Miss Graydene, I assumed you were here to take up a post.”
Lucy met her gaze steadily. “I was, in a sense, as I have said. Mrs Ankerville heard of my bereavement and very kindly invited me to stay here.”
“For a visit, or to make your home here?”
Dion jumped in. “That is yet in question.”
But Lucy would not let this pass. “No question, Dion. It is quite decided. I am here for a short while only.”
The woman eyed her openly, and Lucy willed herself to remain calm under the creature’s critical gaze.
“For how long precisely?”
Lucy’s temper began to fray. Was it her fault she was thrust into this predicament? “As short a time as possible, if I have any say in the matter.”
The woman’s dark brows rose, and Lucy regretted her curt tone. “You are decidedly outspoken for a woman in your situation.”
Dion’s gasp of outrage was heard by Lucy only dimly, for her own was gall in her breast. “My situation? I had not supposed you knew anything of my situation, Lady Sarclet.”
The woman was unmoved. If anything, her mouth curved into the sneer Lucy had earlier seen. “You are indigent, so much is plain. Else you would have no need of my cousin Corisande’s charity.”
“Who said it was charity?” returned Lucy, forgetful of the dangers of this conversation.
“If it was not, why should not your own people succour you?” Before Lucy could counter this, she added, “Because you have no people, is that not so?”
“Of course she has people,” cried Dion, jumping in. “She has us. We are her people.”
“Dion!”
Too late Dion realised what she had said. Her hand went to her mouth. Lady Sarclet’s cheeks were flying two spots of colour and her eyes blazed.
“I knew it! I knew it! You have come back to haunt me!”
Dismayed, Lucy could only stare at the woman. How much did she know? How could she know?
Paulina’s voice came low and hard, shaking now as she pushed her bulk up from the chair. “I thought I had rid myself of you once and for all when I destroyed that letter. How dare you come here? How dare you rise up like a spectre from his past? The brute … the lascivious brute! My own father!”
Dion was on her feet. “Paulina, for goodness’ sake!”
With a snarl, the woman turned on her. “Don’t talk to me!
You should have turned her out on the instant.
Letting her into my life, how could you?
” She stabbed a quivering finger towards Lucy, her features a con tortion of hatred.
“You are not my sister. I will not own you. I will not have you for my sister. He was my father. Mine alone! Go away … get out of my house! I hate you, I hate you!”
She ended on a screech as Lucy sat battered and horrified. Dion looked utterly stunned.
For a moment Lady Sarclet’s violent stare held. And then her features sank into horror. She gasped out a croaking cry and clutched her protruding belly. Then she half collapsed over the table, her hands going out to break her fall.
Realisation brought Lucy out of her stupor. “The baby! She is going into labour!”
Dion screamed, clutching at the table. But Lucy was up, skating around to the woman’s side. “This is no time to panic, Dion,” she rapped out. “Run for the bell-pull!” By now her arm was about her half-sister, but Dion had not moved. Lucy sharpened her tone. “Now, Dion. This instant!”
Dion jumped, and then she flew across the room, tugging at the bell-pull with unnecessary violence. In a moment, she was back again, wringing her hands and jumping from foot to foot in an agony of indecision. “What shall we do? What shall we do?”
Lucy had lowered Paulina back into the chair, and was engaged in holding her head up and encouraging her to breathe.
She looked up with impatience and immediately realised Dion’s inexperience was sending her into panic.
Lucy summoned every ounce of natural authority. “Be quiet, Dion, and listen carefully.”
The command had an effect. Dion ceased shifting from foot to foot and fixed fearful eyes on Lucy’s face.
“We need the nearest bedchamber prepared at once. Give order for it the instant the servant comes, do you understand?”
Dion nodded, the fright lessening a little in her eyes. Lady Sarclet’s groans were increasing in volume, and Lucy had to raise her voice to be heard.
“Lady Sarclet’s maid should be sent for. She is probably waiting in the hall. Ask Mrs Lovedown to come immediately to me here, for there is a lot to do.”
By this time, Hawkesbury had appeared, bearing a tray with fresh coffee on it. Dion flew to obey Lucy’s commands, running up to him at once. “Never mind the coffee, Hawkesbury. We have more important matters on hand.”
Satisfied, Lucy gave her attention to her half-sister. “We will have you in bed directly. Pray be calm.”
The woman’s eyes were cloudy with pain as she opened them. But she recognised Lucy and made a half-hearted attempt to push her away. “You. I don’t want you near me!”