Read Online Mist of Midnight by Sandra Byrd - Free Book Online Page A

closet acquaintances will call.”
    I did not have any close acquaintances, though I yearned for some, even one. “Shall I need calling cards as well?”
    He nodded. “Michelene can assist with that.” I noted the unusually iron tone when he spoke her name as she approached from the stairway. They looked at one another with something short of disgust. There had been something amiss when she was here the last time, I was becoming certain of it. But a servant without discretion is soon a servant without a situation, so I could not expect Captain Whitfield’s staff to tell tales.
    â€œWhat day would you like to be ‘at home’?” he asked.
    I shrugged helplessly. Was one day better than another? “Monday?”
    â€œThursday would be an excellent choice.”
    â€œThursday then.”
    â€œAnd,” he continued, “there is a sliding passage in the sitting room.” We walked to the room together and he showed me. “I will announce each visitor before she comes, and if you choose to be not ‘at home’ just then, you may slip through this passage into the breakfast room and disappear without causing distress.”
    I smiled. “Thank you, Landreth. You are invaluable. I shall thank Captain Whitfield when he returns for allowing you to continue to assist me.” He didn’t smile, but his cheeks pinked. It was enough, for now.
    â€œCaptain Whitfield will return on Thursday next, miss.”
    â€œVery good.” I walked back into the hallway and saw Michelene standing very near the large new salver. She dipped her hand into it, which was rather bold, and pulled out a card.
    â€œSomeone has already been by?” I asked.
    Landreth nodded and Michelene brought the card to me. “Miss Delia Dainley.” Miss Dainley’s card was subtly embossed. I looked up and noticed a look pass between Michelene and Landreth.
    â€œWhat is it?” I asked.
    Michelene spoke. “There exists at least one coddled young Englishwoman who is not afraid of Hussars. Miss Dainley.”

CHAPTER FIVE

    T he next Thursday, after a small and leisurely lunch, Michelene helped me prepare for Miss Dainley’s call. Several other women had also left cards, so I might expect one or two others to drop by as well. “It’s very kind of them to call upon me so quickly after my arrival,” I said with both nerves and enthusiasm.
    Michelene continued to twist and wrap my hair around the back of my head, tying it off, and pulling some free into long curls. “Perhaps they want to see you quickly, wondering how long you’ll be here.”
    I frowned at her. “What a thing to say! I plan to be here a good long while.”
    â€œ Oui ,” she replied. “But I think that the woman claiming to be Miss Ravenshaw, who was here earlier, she believed so as well.”
    Had she meant I would be found out as a pretender? Or—my face cooled—that I’d be dead, like the first woman?
    I reflected upon that for a moment. “What was she like?”
    â€œOh, I do not speak of the dead,” she said, even though she had. She quickly crossed herself. “But I will say that she was beautiful and well cared for. Even after I came to serve as lady’s maid,she kept her Indian maid close. They were like sisters, non ? She did not like to be separated from her.”
    â€œDid you speak to her—the maid, I mean?” I asked. I was as curious about that woman, almost, as I was about the imposter.
    â€œThe maid did not speak English, nor French,” she replied. “So we could not talk.”
    â€œWhat language did they speak?” I asked. This truly surprised me.
    She shrugged. “It sounded heathen. You might ask Captain Whitfield. He seemed quite taken with her.” She pulled some of my hair to the front and ran over it with an iron she’d heated in the fireplace grill.
    â€œTaken with the maid?”
    She