LITMIR.BIZ

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any answers tonight, she decided. Yet she was almost certain that she knew the answer, that it was right there in front of her; she simply could not see it.

      And as she turned, a soft knock sounded on her door. Evelyn went to her daughter, kissed her as she slept and pulled up a blanket. Then she crossed the room to the door.

      * * *

      LAURENT WAS WAITING for her in the hall, and he was stricken with worry. He was a slim, dark man with dark eyes, which widened upon seeing her. “Mon Dieu! I was beginning to think that you meant to ignore your guests. Everyone is wondering where you are, Comtesse, and they are preparing to leave!”

      “I fell asleep,” she said softly.

      “And you are exhausted, it is obvious. Still, you must greet everyone before they leave.” He shook his head. “Black is too severe, Comtesse, you should wear gray. I think I will burn that dress.”

      “You are not burning this dress, as it was very costly,” Evelyn said, ushering him out and closing the door gently. “When you see Bette, would you send her up to sit with Aimee?” They started down the hall. “I don’t want her to awaken, alone, with her father having just been buried.”

      “Bien sûr.” Laurent glanced worriedly at her. “You need to eat something, madame, before you fall down.”

      Evelyn halted on the landing above the stairs, very aware of the crowd awaiting her downstairs. Trepidation coursed through her. “I can’t eat. I did not expect such attendance at the funeral, Laurent. I am overcome by how many strangers came to pay their respects.”

      “Neither did I, Comtesse. But it is a good thing, non? If they did not come today to pay their respects, when would they come?” Evelyn smiled tightly and started down the stairs. Laurent followed. “Madame? There is something you must know.”

      “What is that?” she asked, over her shoulder, pausing as they reached the marble ground floor.

      “Lady Faraday and her daughter, Lady Harold, have been taking an inventory of this house. I actually saw them go into every room, ignoring the closed doors. I then saw them inspecting the draperies in the library, madame, and I was confused so I eavesdropped.”

      Evelyn could imagine what was coming next, as the draperies were very old and needed to be replaced. “Let me guess. They were determining the extent of my fall into poverty.”

      “They seem amused to find the draperies moth-eaten.” Laurent scowled. “I then heard them speaking, about your very unfortunate circumstances, and they were extremely pleased.”

      Evelyn felt a new tension arise. She did not want to recall her childhood now. “My aunt was never kindly disposed toward me, Laurent, and she was furious I made such a good match with Henri, when her daughter was far more eligible. She dared to say so, several times, directly to me—when I had nothing to do with Henri’s suit. I am not surprised that they inspected this house. Nor am I surprised that they are happy I am currently impoverished.” She shrugged. “The past is passed, and I intend to be a gracious hostess.”

      But Evelyn bit her lip, as memories of her childhood tried to rush up and engulf her. She suddenly recalled spending the day pressing her cousin Lucille’s gowns, her fingers burned from the hot iron, her stomach so empty it was aching. She couldn’t recall what mischief she had been accused of committing, but Lucille had habitually fabricated attacks upon her, causing her aunt to find some suitable punishment.

      She hadn’t seen her cousin, now married to a squire, since her wedding, and she hoped Lucille had matured, and had better things to do than amuse herself at Evelyn’s expense. But clearly, her aunt remained inclined against her. It was so petty.

      “Then you must remember that she is merely a gentlewoman, while you are the Comtesse D’Orsay,” Laurent said firmly.

      Evelyn did smile at him. But she had no intention of throwing her title in anyone’s face, especially not when her finances were so strained. She hesitated on the threshold of the salon, which was as threadbare as her bedroom. The walls were painted a pleasing yellow, and the wainscoting and woodwork were very fine, but only a striped gold-and-white sofa and two cream-colored chairs remained in the room, surrounding a lonely marble-topped table. And everyone she had seen at the funeral was now crowded into the room.

      Evelyn entered the salon and turned immediately to her closest guests. A big, bluff man with dark hair bowed awkwardly over her hand, his tiny wife at his side. Evelyn fought to identify him.

      “John Trim, my lady, of the Black Briar Inn. I saw your husband once or twice, when he was on the road to London and he stopped for a drink and eats. My wife baked you scones. And we have brought you some very fine Darjeeling tea.”

      “I am Mrs. Trim.” A tiny, dark-haired woman stepped forward. “Oh, you poor dear, I can’t imagine what you are going through! And your daughter is so pretty—just like you! She will love the scones, I am certain. The tea, of course, is for you.”

      Evelyn was speechless.

      “Come down to the inn when you can. We have some very fine teas, my lady, and you will enjoy them.” She was firm. “We take care of our own, we do.”

      Evelyn realized that this Cornishwoman considered her a neighbor, still, never mind that she had spent five years living in France, and that she had married a Frenchman. Now she regretted never stopping by the Black Briar Inn for tea since moving to Roselynd. If she had, she would know these good, kind people.

      And as she began greeting the villagers, she realized that everyone seemed genuinely sympathetic and that most of the women present had brought her pies, muffins, dried preserves or some other kind of edible gift. Evelyn was so moved. She knew she was going to become undone by all of the compassion her neighbors were evincing.

      The villagers finally drifted away, leaving for their homes. Evelyn now saw her aunt and uncle, as only her family remained in the room.

      Aunt Enid stood with her two daughters by the marble mantel above the fireplace. Enid Faraday was a stout woman in a beautiful gray-satin gown and pearls. Her eldest daughter, Lucille—the initiator of so many of Evelyn’s childhood woes—also wore pearls and an expensive and fashionable dark blue velvet gown. She was now pleasantly plump, but she was still a pretty blonde.

      Evelyn glanced at Annabelle, her other cousin, who remained unwed. She wore gray silk, had brownish-blond hair, and while once fat, she was now very slim and very pretty. Annabelle had always followed Lucille’s lead and had been very submissive to her mother. Evelyn wondered if she had learned how to think for herself. She certainly hoped so.

      Her aunt and cousins had seen her, as well. They all stared, brows raised.

      Evelyn managed a slight smile; none of her female relations smiled back.

      Evelyn turned to her uncle, who was approaching her. Robert Faraday was a tall, portly man with a rather distinguished air. Her father’s older brother, he had inherited the estate, while her father had taken his annual pension and gone gaming in Europe’s infamous brothels and halls. In appearance, Robert hadn’t changed.

      “I am terribly sorry for your loss, Evelyn,” Robert said gravely. He took both of her hands in his and kissed her on the cheek, surprising her. “I liked Henri, very much.”

      Evelyn knew he meant it. Robert had become friendly with her husband when he had first come to stay at Faraday Hall. When Henri wasn’t courting Evelyn, he and Robert had been hacking, hunting or taking brandy together in the library. He had attended the wedding in Paris, and unlike Enid, he had enjoyed himself extremely. But then, he had never shared his wife’s antipathy toward Evelyn. If anything, he had been somewhat absent and indifferent.

      “It is a damned shame,” her uncle continued. “I so liked the fellow and he has been good to you. I remember when he first laid eyes on you. His mouth dropped open and he turned as red as a beet.” Robert smiled. “By the time supper was over, you were strolling in the garden with him.”

      Evelyn smiled sadly. “It is a

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