Bruce about.
“’Tis doing poorly, the shop,” Ian informed Bruce. “We should pull out.”
“We can’t pull out. At least twenty families in the village are dependent on that shop. We’ll have to find a way to make it work, and that’s that.” He rose suddenly, staring down at Conar. “If you’ve had time to finish, we’ll take our brandy in the office and continue there.”
Creeghan rose and bade Martise a good evening. Conar, Ian, and Peter did the same, leaving her and Elaina alone.
“Truly, I am so glad you have come, Martise!” Elaina told her.
The welcome was real. “Then I am glad, too,” Martise responded. She smiled. “Tell me, what are we to do now?”
“Well, I know that I, for one, am going to indulge in more sherry,” Elaina said, and rising, she went to the sideboard for the sherry bottle. She smiled, and poured the sherry into her wine glass. “Hogarth will bring us tea. Shall we have it by the fire?”
“Lovely,” Martise agreed. “Except that I’ve a better idea. Let’s have it in my room and we’ll steal the sherry bottle and have that, too.”
Elaina was delighted. When Hogarth came, Martise informed him that they would like the tea in her room. Hogarth seemed surprised at first, and then very glad that Elaina seemed so happy.
Up in her room, Martise did her best to draw Elaina out, but Elaina proved herself to be quite a Creeghan, subtly evading questions while asking Martise many of her own: what had the war been like, what had the South been like, there had been so much said, and so much romanticized. Martise tried to answer many things honestly, but when Elaina turned her questions to Africa, Martise found herself in trouble once again. She shifted the conversation back to Elaina.
“Why were you so distressed at dinner this evening? With your brother. When he seemed not to know that my husband was a Confederate—and definitely not a Yank.”
“Oh!” Elaina said. “Oh …” She rose, agitated. “It’s quite a long story, truly it is. And it’s late, really late. I hadn’t begun to realize just how late it had gotten. I’m quite exhausted. You must forgive me. I’ve had a wonderful night. I haven’t had a friend such as yourself in so long now … since Mary. Oh, I am sorry, I—”
“Elaina, you must not apologize each time her name is mentioned. I loved her dearly, but then I believe you did, too, and truly, you were the one most frequently with her at the end, so, you see, your loss is all the greater.”
“How very kind,” Elaina murmured. Impulsively, she hugged Martise, but before Martise could say another word, Elaina fled. “We’ll talk soon, sometime soon, I promise. Good night, now.”
And then she was gone.
Martise looked around the room, and it seemed as good a time as any to begin a thorough search of the place. The emerald had to be somewhere.
Deep in the armoire she found many of Mary’s belongings. She searched through the beautiful silks and velvets and brocades, and marveled at the lovely corsets and elegant bloomers that Mary had acquired after her marriage. And she suddenly found herself wondering about the relationship between the tall dark lord of Creeghan and her petite friend, and then she felt her cheeks burning and she touched them with her hands. She knew why Mary had fallen in love. She knew all too well.
And yet …
And yet, she told herself harshly, the emerald was not among Mary’s things.
She thought about calling Holly to help her disrobe for the night, but determined to struggle with her numerous hooks and tiny buttons herself. She laid her gown out carefully over the back of a chair, then wearily left her petticoats to lie where they fell. She breathed far more easily once she had untied her corset and stepped from her pantalettes, but then she shivered in the evening coolness and quickly slipped into her sheer white bed gown.
Beneath the covers, she discovered that she still shivered.
And when she closed
“’Tis doing poorly, the shop,” Ian informed Bruce. “We should pull out.”
“We can’t pull out. At least twenty families in the village are dependent on that shop. We’ll have to find a way to make it work, and that’s that.” He rose suddenly, staring down at Conar. “If you’ve had time to finish, we’ll take our brandy in the office and continue there.”
Creeghan rose and bade Martise a good evening. Conar, Ian, and Peter did the same, leaving her and Elaina alone.
“Truly, I am so glad you have come, Martise!” Elaina told her.
The welcome was real. “Then I am glad, too,” Martise responded. She smiled. “Tell me, what are we to do now?”
“Well, I know that I, for one, am going to indulge in more sherry,” Elaina said, and rising, she went to the sideboard for the sherry bottle. She smiled, and poured the sherry into her wine glass. “Hogarth will bring us tea. Shall we have it by the fire?”
“Lovely,” Martise agreed. “Except that I’ve a better idea. Let’s have it in my room and we’ll steal the sherry bottle and have that, too.”
Elaina was delighted. When Hogarth came, Martise informed him that they would like the tea in her room. Hogarth seemed surprised at first, and then very glad that Elaina seemed so happy.
Up in her room, Martise did her best to draw Elaina out, but Elaina proved herself to be quite a Creeghan, subtly evading questions while asking Martise many of her own: what had the war been like, what had the South been like, there had been so much said, and so much romanticized. Martise tried to answer many things honestly, but when Elaina turned her questions to Africa, Martise found herself in trouble once again. She shifted the conversation back to Elaina.
“Why were you so distressed at dinner this evening? With your brother. When he seemed not to know that my husband was a Confederate—and definitely not a Yank.”
“Oh!” Elaina said. “Oh …” She rose, agitated. “It’s quite a long story, truly it is. And it’s late, really late. I hadn’t begun to realize just how late it had gotten. I’m quite exhausted. You must forgive me. I’ve had a wonderful night. I haven’t had a friend such as yourself in so long now … since Mary. Oh, I am sorry, I—”
“Elaina, you must not apologize each time her name is mentioned. I loved her dearly, but then I believe you did, too, and truly, you were the one most frequently with her at the end, so, you see, your loss is all the greater.”
“How very kind,” Elaina murmured. Impulsively, she hugged Martise, but before Martise could say another word, Elaina fled. “We’ll talk soon, sometime soon, I promise. Good night, now.”
And then she was gone.
Martise looked around the room, and it seemed as good a time as any to begin a thorough search of the place. The emerald had to be somewhere.
Deep in the armoire she found many of Mary’s belongings. She searched through the beautiful silks and velvets and brocades, and marveled at the lovely corsets and elegant bloomers that Mary had acquired after her marriage. And she suddenly found herself wondering about the relationship between the tall dark lord of Creeghan and her petite friend, and then she felt her cheeks burning and she touched them with her hands. She knew why Mary had fallen in love. She knew all too well.
And yet …
And yet, she told herself harshly, the emerald was not among Mary’s things.
She thought about calling Holly to help her disrobe for the night, but determined to struggle with her numerous hooks and tiny buttons herself. She laid her gown out carefully over the back of a chair, then wearily left her petticoats to lie where they fell. She breathed far more easily once she had untied her corset and stepped from her pantalettes, but then she shivered in the evening coolness and quickly slipped into her sheer white bed gown.
Beneath the covers, she discovered that she still shivered.
And when she closed
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