Read Online The Light in the Darkness by Ellen Fisher - Free Book Online
Authors: Ellen Fisher
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shapeless.
Jennifer gave her an apologetic look. “I am not pretty, mistress.” She smiled shyly, and added, “Not th’ way ye are.”
If any other woman so lovely had made that statement, Catherine would have dismissed it as false modesty. But it was apparent that Jennifer had meant it quite honestly. Evidently the girl had no self-regard whatsoever. Catherine wondered idly what such beauty paired with such astonishing lack of guile and vanity might do to the heart of an unsuspecting man.
A man such as Edward Greyson.
Struck by the thought, she considered for the first time the possibility that Grey’s heart, frozen into ice on the day of Diana’s death, could be melted. What if Grey only needed a companion, a young, lovely girl to lift him out of the misery in which he had been mired for seven long years? After all, Grey was only thirty. Like Jennifer, like Catherine herself, like all humans everywhere, he must sometimes long for love and happiness.
Perhaps, Catherine mused, she could use the girl to turn the tables on Grey once again. Twice now he had dared to supplant her as mistress of Greyhaven, the first time withan arrogant, haughty woman who had despised her, the second time with an utterly unworthy child. She had resented the intrusion both times, for she and Grey had been close since childhood, and she despised having to share him. But she loved him unreservedly despite his infuriating ways. Catherine looked down at the frightened child.
A plan began to form in her mind. Perhaps she could mold this girl into something other than a credit to the Greyson name. Perhaps, using Jennifer’s beauty as a weapon, they could bring Grey out of his morass of self-pity. She was devoted to her brother, despite the arguments they seemed to have constantly nowadays, and she was willing to try anything, anything at all, that might bring him happiness.
Of course, given a choice, she would not have brought the girl here. No matter how bad the girl’s circumstances had been, they could hardly have been as miserable as life with a drunken stranger would be. But now that Jennifer was here, Catherine could see no reason not to use her startling beauty to tempt Grey into living again.
It didn’t matter, she thought, whether or not the girl had the intelligence of a peahen. Diana had hardly been capable of adding two and two, yet Grey had adored her. Catherine knew from observation that men did not insist on intelligence in a beautiful woman. If only the girl could lose her timidity and be taught to flirt, to smile, to flutter her eyelashes …
Her plan fully formed, Catherine smiled as she considered Jennifer, who was still staring at her reflection, trying to see her own beauty. The girl, she thought, might turn out to be a blessing in disguise, after all.
Dinner was as dreadful as Jennifer had feared. Her husband sat at the opposite end of the mahogany gateleg table, glowering at her, quite obviously almost too drunk to stand, yet Catherine made small talk as calmly as though this were an everyday occurrence. Perhaps, Jenniferthought fearfully, it was. Perhaps she would have to face Grey, drunken and angry and bitter, across the dinner table every night for the rest of her life.
To take her mind off that disturbing thought, she looked around at her surroundings. The dining room was as opulently furnished as the rest of the house. The shining surface of the table was covered with a white linen tablecloth, and over it hung a brass chandelier. The flickering light from the candles illuminated the fine Chelsea porcelain, beautifully painted with flowers, birds, and butterflies. A portrait of a hawk-nosed man in a powdered wig, whom Jennifer assumed was Grey’s father due to the unmistakably strong resemblance, hung over the fireplace. The gentleman depicted in the painting wore a dour expression that seemed common in this household.
Near the fireplace stood a marble-topped serving table. On it stood several silver
Jennifer gave her an apologetic look. “I am not pretty, mistress.” She smiled shyly, and added, “Not th’ way ye are.”
If any other woman so lovely had made that statement, Catherine would have dismissed it as false modesty. But it was apparent that Jennifer had meant it quite honestly. Evidently the girl had no self-regard whatsoever. Catherine wondered idly what such beauty paired with such astonishing lack of guile and vanity might do to the heart of an unsuspecting man.
A man such as Edward Greyson.
Struck by the thought, she considered for the first time the possibility that Grey’s heart, frozen into ice on the day of Diana’s death, could be melted. What if Grey only needed a companion, a young, lovely girl to lift him out of the misery in which he had been mired for seven long years? After all, Grey was only thirty. Like Jennifer, like Catherine herself, like all humans everywhere, he must sometimes long for love and happiness.
Perhaps, Catherine mused, she could use the girl to turn the tables on Grey once again. Twice now he had dared to supplant her as mistress of Greyhaven, the first time withan arrogant, haughty woman who had despised her, the second time with an utterly unworthy child. She had resented the intrusion both times, for she and Grey had been close since childhood, and she despised having to share him. But she loved him unreservedly despite his infuriating ways. Catherine looked down at the frightened child.
A plan began to form in her mind. Perhaps she could mold this girl into something other than a credit to the Greyson name. Perhaps, using Jennifer’s beauty as a weapon, they could bring Grey out of his morass of self-pity. She was devoted to her brother, despite the arguments they seemed to have constantly nowadays, and she was willing to try anything, anything at all, that might bring him happiness.
Of course, given a choice, she would not have brought the girl here. No matter how bad the girl’s circumstances had been, they could hardly have been as miserable as life with a drunken stranger would be. But now that Jennifer was here, Catherine could see no reason not to use her startling beauty to tempt Grey into living again.
It didn’t matter, she thought, whether or not the girl had the intelligence of a peahen. Diana had hardly been capable of adding two and two, yet Grey had adored her. Catherine knew from observation that men did not insist on intelligence in a beautiful woman. If only the girl could lose her timidity and be taught to flirt, to smile, to flutter her eyelashes …
Her plan fully formed, Catherine smiled as she considered Jennifer, who was still staring at her reflection, trying to see her own beauty. The girl, she thought, might turn out to be a blessing in disguise, after all.
Dinner was as dreadful as Jennifer had feared. Her husband sat at the opposite end of the mahogany gateleg table, glowering at her, quite obviously almost too drunk to stand, yet Catherine made small talk as calmly as though this were an everyday occurrence. Perhaps, Jenniferthought fearfully, it was. Perhaps she would have to face Grey, drunken and angry and bitter, across the dinner table every night for the rest of her life.
To take her mind off that disturbing thought, she looked around at her surroundings. The dining room was as opulently furnished as the rest of the house. The shining surface of the table was covered with a white linen tablecloth, and over it hung a brass chandelier. The flickering light from the candles illuminated the fine Chelsea porcelain, beautifully painted with flowers, birds, and butterflies. A portrait of a hawk-nosed man in a powdered wig, whom Jennifer assumed was Grey’s father due to the unmistakably strong resemblance, hung over the fireplace. The gentleman depicted in the painting wore a dour expression that seemed common in this household.
Near the fireplace stood a marble-topped serving table. On it stood several silver
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