She had just finished changing her clothes when a tap came at the door. She answered it to discover an elderly woman, whom she believed to be Lady Isadora’s personal maid.
‘Miss Travers,’ the woman said. ‘Her ladyship asks if you would be kind enough to visit her in her room this morning.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Am I right in thinking it is the room at the far end of the landing?’
‘Yes, miss, that’s right,’ the woman smiled at her. ‘I am Jean Phipps, and I’ve been with her ladyship since before she was married.’
‘Then you must know her very well,’ Elizabeth said. ‘May I come to you if there is anything I need to know concerning Lady Isadora’s preferences?’
‘Yes, miss, of course. I shall be only too pleased to help you if I can—but her ladyship is well looked after. It is young company she needs, if you ask me. It would have been Miss Jane’s eighteenth birthday this year and she has been brooding over it. With Miss Melanie being mistress of her own home, and a mother herself, it has left her ladyship at a loss.’
‘Yes, I can understand that,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Well, I am here now and I shall endeavour to take her mind from her unhappy thoughts.’
‘Oh, she seemed much more cheerful this morning,’ Jean Phipps said. ‘I do not doubt that she will throw off the megrims now that you are here and start to entertain once more.’
Elizabeth nodded to her. They had walked together to Lady Isadora’s rooms, and Miss Phipps indicated that she should go in, which she did, though her companion turned away. As she went into the little sitting room, her ladyship called to her to come through to the room directly behind it. She was sitting at an elegant little desk in her boudoir, a pen in her hand. She rested it on an exquisite French boulle tray, which was made with patterns of intricate silver and gold inlaid into tortoise-shell, and smiled at Elizabeth.
‘I trust it is not too early for you, my dear?’
‘Oh, no, I have been working in the library,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have made a start with the estate records, which should help Lord Cavendish to find what he needs more easily.’
‘You have been working?’ Lady Isadora looked surprised and then slightly put out. ‘My son is a slave driver. I did not ask you to come here to work yourself to death, Elizabeth dearest.’
‘No, no, I shall not,’ Elizabeth told her with a smile. ‘You must know that I have been accustomed to being busy, and I enjoyed myself. Books are so fascinating, are they not?’
‘Are they?’ Lady Isadora looked so doubtful that Elizabeth laughed.
‘Yes, I assure you that they are for me—and you have such a treasure house here at Cavendish.’
‘Do we?’ Lady Isadora wrinkled her brow. ‘I know Cavendish spent a lot of time visiting sales of old books and was quite excited when he found something special, but it was not an interest we shared—though I believe Daniel has similar tastes.’ She nodded her head. ‘Well, I shall not stop you if it pleases you, Elizabeth—as long as you do not tire yourself.’
‘I shall not, ma’am, and I shall not desert you for the task. It is my habit to rise early and I may easily spend an hour or so in the library in the mornings before breakfast—though Lord Cavendish has asked me to ride with him tomorrow at eight.’
‘The fresh air and exercise will be good for you,’ Lady Isadora said, looking pleased. ‘Now, my dear, do you think you could find your way to the vicarage? I should like you to take a note for me. I wish to ask the Reverend Bell to dine with us tomorrow evening. I can send one of the servants, of course, but I thought you might like to become acquainted with the vicar and perhaps discuss the flowers for the church.’
‘Yes, I should very much like to do that,’ Elizabeth said, ‘but is there anything I may do for you before I go?’
‘Oh, no, I shall not come down for another two hours or so,’ Lady Isadora said, waving her hand vaguely. ‘Please feel free to consider the mornings your own, Elizabeth.’
Elizabeth thanked her, for it was much as she had expected. She took the note Lady Isadora had given her and went out. As she walked along the landing she met Amy, who told her that she had taken a pot of tea and some bread, butter and honey to her room.
‘I wasn’t sure if you would want breakfast downstairs, miss. Her ladyship has just a pot of chocolate and some biscuits in bed at about half past nine…’
‘As you have no doubt discovered, I am always up much earlier. But I do not wish to cause more work for the household—something in my room at about this time would be agreeable, unless you are setting the breakfast room for his lordship? I could just as easily take mine downstairs.’
‘Yes, miss. While his lordship is here we set breakfast at about nine o’clock, when he comes in from his ride.’
‘Then shall we say that I will breakfast downstairs when there are guests or his lordship is in residence, and in my room at other times?’
‘Yes, miss.’ Amy looked pleased. ‘That’s thoughtful of you, though it would be no trouble to do whatever you want.’
‘I shall have my breakfast before I leave,’ Elizabeth said. ‘But then I intend to walk to the vicarage—could you tell me the easiest way to get there?’
‘Yes, of course, miss. It is close to the church, and that is just across the meadow behind the house. That’s the quickest way when it’s dry as it is now. Though in the winter it is best to follow the road to the village, but that is the long way round and you would do better to go in the carriage.’
Elizabeth thanked her. They parted and she went to her room, drinking a cup of tea and eating two of the delicious freshly baked soft rolls with butter and honey.
Within half an hour she was wearing her pelisse and bonnet and heading for the meadow, which was at the back of the house. It was a pleasant morning, the sun peeping out from behind a few fluffy clouds, and the grass perfectly dry beneath her sensible black boots. She could hear a lark singing and looked up to see it perched in the branches of an oak tree at the edge of the meadow. She had a feeling of content, of being at home, for she had often performed such chores for her mother, and it was almost as if the grief of the past months had never been.
As she reached the church, she saw a tall, thin, black-gowned man leaving, and guessed that he was probably the person she had come to see. He was wearing a flat, wide-brimmed hat, which he doffed as she addressed him, to reveal hair that was sandy red.
‘Reverend Bell?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘I have come from Lady Isadora with a note.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he said holding his hat to his breast. He had serious grey eyes and a gentle face. ‘You will be Miss Travers, I make no doubt. Her ladyship has spoken of you to me. I am pleased to meet you.’ He put his hat back on and offered to shake hands with her, a faint colour in his cheeks. ‘It was good of you to walk all the way down here.’
‘It is not so very far. At home the church was much further from the house, but I often walked there on fine days,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Besides, I wanted to meet you, sir. Lady Isadora tells me you are in need of flowers for the church.’
‘I should be grateful if we could have some for next Sunday,’ he said. ‘We are having a special service for one of my oldest parishioners who has lately recovered from a severe illness, and it