Read Online The Pursuit of Pleasure by Elizabeth Essex - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Essex
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lawn.
“There,” he said as he turned her to the front of the house.
Glass Cottage was everything, absolutely everything, she could have hoped and dreamed of in a house. The façade faced the sea and at least half of the ground floor was built with a long row of windows, floor to ceiling, marching like sparkling, silver soldiers west along the front of the house. Above the windows and arching over the doorway were trellises covered with climbing roses, spilling over the stone in an extravagant array of pink and white blooms, their exuberant fragrance perfuming the air. It was thoroughly enchanting.
The house held a sort of fairytale stillness, as if it had been waiting, slumbering quietly in the sun, waiting to be brought back to life.
“What do you think?” There was amused pride in his voice. He really didn’t have to ask.
“Oh, Jamie!” Her delight couldn’t be contained. She couldonly laugh in wondrous pleasure. “I think it’s a good thing they don’t tax roses as well as windows.”
“Well, you’d best go see it. Although I must warn you, don’t get your hopes up too high. It is very picturesque and charming, I grant you—the whole reason I bought it—but it’s been closed up. I’m afraid it’ll be dreadfully damp. It’ll take quite a bit of effort, work, and time to put it to rights.”
He was trying to put her off the idea.
“And here you were, waxing rhapsodic not two days ago.”
“Two days ago you hadn’t agreed to marry me.”
“Ulterior motives?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps I wanted another kiss.”
Lizzie had no plans to test that particular theory, no matter how tempting. He was leaving. She let the ridiculous little shiver of wanting subside and ambled across the lawn toward the house.
The front door was opened immediately by a woman who must be the housekeeper: a plain, stern-faced, no-nonsense-looking woman in an unadorned, gray serge gown and white starched cap. Her badge of keys dangled like rosary beads from her waist. She looked a bastion of straitlaced morality.
No doubt they’d be at odds within days. Lizzie was inordinately fond of nonsense.
The bastion spoke first. “Your pardon, Captain Marlowe. I wasn’t expecting you till—”
“No matter, Mrs. Tupper, I didn’t expect to come myself.” He spoke to cover the woman’s flusters and indicated Lizzie with a smile. “May I present my wife, Mrs. Marlowe? Lizzie, this is Mrs. Tupper, our housekeeper, wife to Mr. Tupper, our steward.”
Mrs. Tupper could not manage to hide her surprise even from her new mistress, but she rallied quickly. “Oh, my! Well, such a surprise you’ve given me. May I offer my congratulations to you both? You’ll want some refreshment, I’ll be bound.”
Though flustered, her smile was genuine enough.
“Yes, thank you,” Lizzie cut in before Jamie could answer for her. She would begin as she meant to go on, independently and in charge. She and Mrs. Tupper should sort themselves out sooner rather than later. She moved through the door and into the wide entry hall, drawing off her supple York tan riding gloves. “Would it be possible to have a dish of tea?”
“My apologies, ma’am.” Mrs. Tupper looked to Jamie.
“Lizzie, the Tuppers are but newly arrived here themselves, to begin to set the place to rights. I hired them when I arrived back in Dartmouth less than a fortnight ago. I hadn’t progressed to furniture at which to take tea as yet. It seemed a waste, as I’m leaving. I wanted to set the repairs in order first.”
Mrs. Tupper nodded in sage agreement as she looked back at Lizzie.
“A very sound plan, I suppose. But I’m here to see to things now.” She smiled at both of them. “So why don’t you take me through the rest of the house, Mrs. Tupper, so I might see what you’ve already accomplished?”
There was no mistaking the speaking glance Jamie shot toward Mrs. Tupper, though of what it spoke, Lizzie had no idea. No doubt Jamie’s standards of
“There,” he said as he turned her to the front of the house.
Glass Cottage was everything, absolutely everything, she could have hoped and dreamed of in a house. The façade faced the sea and at least half of the ground floor was built with a long row of windows, floor to ceiling, marching like sparkling, silver soldiers west along the front of the house. Above the windows and arching over the doorway were trellises covered with climbing roses, spilling over the stone in an extravagant array of pink and white blooms, their exuberant fragrance perfuming the air. It was thoroughly enchanting.
The house held a sort of fairytale stillness, as if it had been waiting, slumbering quietly in the sun, waiting to be brought back to life.
“What do you think?” There was amused pride in his voice. He really didn’t have to ask.
“Oh, Jamie!” Her delight couldn’t be contained. She couldonly laugh in wondrous pleasure. “I think it’s a good thing they don’t tax roses as well as windows.”
“Well, you’d best go see it. Although I must warn you, don’t get your hopes up too high. It is very picturesque and charming, I grant you—the whole reason I bought it—but it’s been closed up. I’m afraid it’ll be dreadfully damp. It’ll take quite a bit of effort, work, and time to put it to rights.”
He was trying to put her off the idea.
“And here you were, waxing rhapsodic not two days ago.”
“Two days ago you hadn’t agreed to marry me.”
“Ulterior motives?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps I wanted another kiss.”
Lizzie had no plans to test that particular theory, no matter how tempting. He was leaving. She let the ridiculous little shiver of wanting subside and ambled across the lawn toward the house.
The front door was opened immediately by a woman who must be the housekeeper: a plain, stern-faced, no-nonsense-looking woman in an unadorned, gray serge gown and white starched cap. Her badge of keys dangled like rosary beads from her waist. She looked a bastion of straitlaced morality.
No doubt they’d be at odds within days. Lizzie was inordinately fond of nonsense.
The bastion spoke first. “Your pardon, Captain Marlowe. I wasn’t expecting you till—”
“No matter, Mrs. Tupper, I didn’t expect to come myself.” He spoke to cover the woman’s flusters and indicated Lizzie with a smile. “May I present my wife, Mrs. Marlowe? Lizzie, this is Mrs. Tupper, our housekeeper, wife to Mr. Tupper, our steward.”
Mrs. Tupper could not manage to hide her surprise even from her new mistress, but she rallied quickly. “Oh, my! Well, such a surprise you’ve given me. May I offer my congratulations to you both? You’ll want some refreshment, I’ll be bound.”
Though flustered, her smile was genuine enough.
“Yes, thank you,” Lizzie cut in before Jamie could answer for her. She would begin as she meant to go on, independently and in charge. She and Mrs. Tupper should sort themselves out sooner rather than later. She moved through the door and into the wide entry hall, drawing off her supple York tan riding gloves. “Would it be possible to have a dish of tea?”
“My apologies, ma’am.” Mrs. Tupper looked to Jamie.
“Lizzie, the Tuppers are but newly arrived here themselves, to begin to set the place to rights. I hired them when I arrived back in Dartmouth less than a fortnight ago. I hadn’t progressed to furniture at which to take tea as yet. It seemed a waste, as I’m leaving. I wanted to set the repairs in order first.”
Mrs. Tupper nodded in sage agreement as she looked back at Lizzie.
“A very sound plan, I suppose. But I’m here to see to things now.” She smiled at both of them. “So why don’t you take me through the rest of the house, Mrs. Tupper, so I might see what you’ve already accomplished?”
There was no mistaking the speaking glance Jamie shot toward Mrs. Tupper, though of what it spoke, Lizzie had no idea. No doubt Jamie’s standards of
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