Free Bride of a Distant Isle by Sandra Byrd Page B

came a bit farther into the room. “Lady Somerford is now greeting the staff ! One by one, in their areas, in the kitchen, even downstairs. It’s said she knew many of them from the days when your grandparents were alive.”
    Well, then, I did not feel as concerned. She simply wanted to greet everyone present, and that included me. Lady Somerford must be the caller about whom Clementine had been so exercised.
    Had she known my mother?
    Maud wound my hair into its normal roll, pulling some tendrils to hang prettily, and I smoothed my gown, then twisted the cameo on my finger to hide the raw patch underneath it. I walked downstairs.
    Lady Somerford must have finished greeting the staff, as I saw them round the corner toward the drawing room, itself a dame past her prime, returning just as I approached the foot of the stairs. Clementine looked positively unwell. I hoped she hadn’t been visiting with the green fairies that morning ahead of calling hours. I was a few steps behind the two of them, heading into the drawing room. As I arrived, Clementine stood and beckoned to me.
    â€œMiss Annabel Ashton, Charlotte, the Countess of Somerford, of Pennington Park, our near neighbors.”
    To my surprise, Lady Somerford patted the sofa near her. “Do take a seat here, dear,” she said. “How lovely to learn you’ve come back to Highcliffe.”
    A trickle of perspiration slid down my spine. Lady Somerford grinned at me, and at that moment I knew she would not disclose my secret visit to Lymington.
    â€œMy husband and I have donated land for the school run by the Benedictine Sisters. They keep in touch from time to time and they had noted that a teacher they’d made the acquaintance with, you, had recently returned to her family home.”
    I smiled. “You’re Catholic, then!”
    She smiled back. “Yes. As are you?”
    I nodded.
    â€œThe sisters had related as much. I’ve come to invite you to attend divine service with us each week, and as often as you feel you may need to visit a priest. We have a private chapel and welcome every Catholic of any social station to Pennington, even when we are in the north as we mostly are. Your mother worshiped with us. Father Gregory serves the parish here.”
    Clementine shook her head. “How kind, Lady Somerford. But I’m afraid . . .”
    Lady Somerford snapped her fan shut, all the while keeping a pleasant but firm look on her face. “I know, you’re worried about her being chaperoned. Understandable. I shall look after her myself.”
    I held back my delight. Clementine could hardly refuse the Countess of Somerford!
    Clementine spoke up. “That’s so very kind. But Edward . . .”
    â€œYes, he’ll want to see for himself that all is well. So. I’m hosting a large dinner and musical evening shortly. My husband has grown weary, he says, of long seasons in London, and so we’ve re-created some here. Of course, you’ll attend. I’ll have the details sent.”
    â€œRegrettably, we shall have visitors staying with us off and on all summer; Mr. Everedge’s associates come and go, arranging their investment matters.” Clementine tried once more not to offend the most powerful family in the area while simultaneously keeping Edward’s injunction that I not attend a Catholic church.
    â€œBring them!” Lady Somerford said. “All the merrier. Summer in the country is a round of house visitors coming and going, neighbors all attending social occasions. In the meantime, I shall expect to call for Miss Ashton each Sunday starting with the next.”
    We spent the best part of another thirty minutes talking about Lady Somerford’s recently married daughter, and young Albert, the possibility that Highcliffe might be sold, and the blessing of French chefs. Then Lady Somerford stood, and Clementine capitulated.
    â€œThank you, Lady Somerford. We