* * *
Aunt Dorcas had established herself in the armchair nearest the fire, and it looked as though it would take all of the Queen’s army to roust her out of it. No one would call her plump, for plumpness implies something jolly or pleasant, and Aunt Dorcas was neither of those. She wassolid,with a sense of permanence about her, as though she had always existed and meant to go on doing so forever. Disturbingly for a woman of her size and age, she had a penchant for girlish ruffles and bows. She was draped in endless layers of pink silk and wrapped in an assortment of lace shawls, with lace mitts on her hands and an enormous lace cap atop her thinning hair. She wore only pearls, yards of them, dripping from her décolletage and drawing the eye to her wrinkled skin. She had gone yellow with age, like vellum, and every bit of her was the colour of stained ivory—teeth, hair, skin, and the long nails that tapped out a tuneless melody on the arm of her chair. But her eyesight was sharp, and her hearing even better. She was talking to, or ratherat,Hortense de Bellefleur, Father’s particular friend. Hortense was stitching placidly at a bit of luscious violet silk. She was dressed with a French-woman’s natural elegance in a simple gown of biscuit silk, an excellent choice for a lady of her years. She looked up as we approached, smiling a welcome. Aunt Dorcas simply raised her cane to poke my stomach.
“Stop there. I don’t need you breathing all over me. Where have you been, Julia Grey? Gallivanting about Europe with all those filthy Continentals?”
Her voice carried, and I darted a quick glance at Hortense, but she seemed entirely unperturbed. Then again, very little ever perturbed Hortense.
“Xenophobic as ever, I see, Aunt Dorcas,” I said brightly.
“Eh? Well, never mind. You’ve put on a bit of weight you have, and lost that scrawny look. You were a most unpromising child, but you have turned out better than I would have thought.”
The praise was grudging, but extremely complimentary coming from Aunt Dorcas. She turned to Hortense.
“Julia was always plain, not like Portia there. Portia has always been the one to turn men’s heads, haven’t you, poppet?”
“And some ladies’,” I murmured. Portia smothered a cough, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Yes, Aunt Dorcas, but you must agree Julia is quite the beauty now,” my sister put in loyally.
“She will do,” Aunt Dorcas said, a trifle unwillingly, I thought.
I bent swiftly to kiss Hortense’s cheek. “Welcome home, chérie,” she whispered. “It is good to see you.”
Simple words, but they had the whole world in them, and I squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “And you.”
“Come to my boudoir tomorrow. We will have a pot of chocolate and you will tell me everything,” she said softly, with a knowing wink toward Alessandro.
Before I could reply, Aunt Dorcas poked me again with her cane. “You are too close.”
I obeyed, moving to stand near Portia. “Portia tells me you have been staying here. I hope you find it comfortable.”
Aunt Dorcas puffed out her lips in a gesture of disgust. “This old barn? It is draughty, and I suspect haunted besides. All the same, I think it very mean of Hector not to invite me more often. I am family after all.”
I thought of poor Father, forced to face the old horror for months on end, and I hurried to dissuade her. “You would be terribly bored here. Father spends all his time in his study, working on papers for the Shakespearean Society.”
“The Abbey is indeed draughty,” Portia put in quickly. “And we do have ghosts. At least seven. Most of them monks, you know. I shouldn’t be surprised if one walked abroad tonight, what with all of the excitement of the house party. They get very agitated with new people about. Do let us know if you see a holy brother robed in white.”
Portia’s expression was deadly earnest and it was all I could do not to burst out laughing. But Aunt Dorcas was perfectly serious.
“Then we must have a séance. I shall organise one myself. I have some experience as a medium, you know. I have most considerable gifts of a psychic nature.”
“I have no doubt,” I told her, shooting Portia a meaningful look.
Portia put an arm about my waist. “Aunt Dorcas, it has been lovely seeing you, but I simply must tear Julia away. She hasn’t spoken to half the room yet, and I am worried she might give offense.”
Aunt Dorcas waved one of her lace scarves at us, shooing us away, and I threw Hortense an apologetic glance over my shoulder.
“I do feel sorry for dear Hortense. However did she get landed with the old monstrosity?”
Portia shrugged. “We have suffered with Aunt Dorcas for the whole of our lives. Hortense is fresh blood. Let her have a turn. Ah, here is someone who is anxious to see you.”
She directed me toward a small knot of guests gathered around a globe, two ladies and two gentlemen. As we drew near, one of the ladies spun round and shrieked.
“Julia!” She threw her arms about me, embracing me soundly.
I patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Hello, Lucy. How lovely to see you.” She drew back, but kept my hands firmly in her own.
“Oh, I am so pleased you have arrived. I’ve been fairlyburstingto tell you my news!”