Read Online A Woman's Estate by Roberta Gellis - Free Book Online Page B

appeared this very
morning. Victor and Daphne had breakfasted in the nursery quarters under Mrs.
Franklin’s severe but sympathetic eye, then had gone outside. Some of the
benefit was owing to the fact that the sun was shining and the children could
explore the grounds, but Abigail was in an especially good humor because she
had not personally had to attend to their washing and dressing.
    Then, to her pleasure, she discovered that only Griselda was
at the table. Hilda never came down, preferring breakfast in bed, but Eustace
was usually there. Not that Abigail objected to Eustace’s company. Whatever had
oppressed him at dinner that first day seemed to have disappeared, and she
generally found him most useful in dealing with his mother. Today, however, she
wanted to talk to Griselda alone because it seemed to her that the girl was
almost as frightened of her brother as of her mother.
    Of course, Griselda seemed equally frightened of her .
As it was, the moment she came in, Griselda jumped to her feet, clumsily
overturning her cup of tea. “I am sorry I startled you,” Abigail said with a
smile, although Griselda’s ineffectual fluttering dabs at the wet spot on the
cloth with a napkin made her want to grit her teeth.
    “A dreadful mess,” Griselda gasped. “I am so clumsy. So
sorry. I will fetch a maid to—”
    “The bell is on the table,” Abigail remarked. “If you ring,
the servant will come. Do sit down, Griselda. No, not there,” she added,
ignoring the hunted looks her sister-in-law was casting around the room. “That
seat may be wet. Come to this side of the table and sit near me.”
    With a last terrified glance at the door, which, no doubt,
meant safety to her, Griselda did as she was told. Abigail was pleased to avoid
further argument because she was eager to explain to Griselda how she wished to
divide the duties of the household, but she would gladly have traded both delay
and expostulation for an absence of or even a reduction in Griselda’s
nervousness. Abigail studied the girl for a moment, surprised at how pretty she
was. She had the straight nose and well-formed lips of the Lyddens in a
delicate, feminine mold, but her eyes were a soft gray rather than the sharp,
bright blue that Victor had inherited from Francis. Her skin was clear, if
slightly sallow—no, perhaps that was owing to the unsuitable color of her
gown—her hair a light golden brown. Abigail wondered why she had not noticed
before—and then Griselda made a nervous gesture and hunched her rather broad
shoulders in a self-effacing way, which Abigail suddenly realized distracted
her attention from Griselda’s more attractive features.
    “I thought—” Abigail began, only to have Griselda spring to
her feet again.
    “The tea is cold,” she cried. “I will order fresh tea for
you.”
    “You have already rung for—ah, here she is now,” Abigail said
with relief. “Betty, please put a cloth under where the tea was spilled, so the
wet does not mar the table until it is free to be cleared. I caused a slight
accident. And bring my coffee and some fresh tea for Miss Lydden.” As soon as
the maid went out, she hurried on before Griselda could find another reason to
flee. “There is no reason why you should carry the entire burden of the
housekeeping. At the same time, I realize you would be bored to death with
nothing to do—as would I.”
    At this point, Abigail took the chance of pausing to allow
Griselda to speak if she wished, since it would now be openly rude if she tried
to run away. But Griselda had slid farther back in her chair, no longer
perching on the extreme edge, and she was staring at Abigail in wide-eyed
amazement.
    “You said you spilled the tea,” she whispered.
    “No,” Abigail contradicted smilingly. “I seldom lie—only
when it is absolutely necessary. I said I caused the accident—and that
was true. I startled you.”
    Griselda dropped her eyes. “You are very kind,” she said in
a stifled voice.