Wiliam Monk 01 - The Face of a Stranger

you'll excuse me saying so. I hope that gives satisfaction?"
    "Oh indeed!" Hester assured her with amazement. "You are quite excellent."
    Effie colored with pleasure. "Lady Callandra says I talk too much," she essayed modestly.
    Hester smiled. "Definitely," she agreed. "So do I. Thank you for your help—please tell Lady Callandra I am very grateful."
    “Yes ma'am.'' And with a half-curtsy Effie grabbed her pincushion and flew out of the door, forgetting to close it behind her, and Hester heard her feet along the passage.
    She really looked very striking; the rather severe style she had worn for convenience since embarking on her
    nursing career had been dramatically softened and filled out. Her gown had been masterfully adapted to be less modest and considerably fuller over a borrowed petticoat, unknown to its owner, and thus height was turned from a disadvantage into a considerable asset. Now that it was time she swept down the main staircase feeling very pleased with herself indeed.
    Both Lovel and Menard Grey were at home for the evening, and she was introduced to them in the withdrawing room before going in to the dining room and being seated at the long, highly polished table, which was set for six but could easily have accommodated twelve. There were two joins in it where additional leaves could be inserted so it might have sat twenty-four.
    Hester's eye swept over it quickly and noticed the crisp linen napkins, all embroidered with the family crest, the gleaming silver similarly adorned, the cruet sets, the crystal goblets reflecting the myriad lights of the chandelier, a tower of glass like a miniature iceberg alight. There were flowers from the conservatory and from the garden, skillfully arranged in three flat vases up the center of the table, and the whole glittered and gleamed like a display of art.
    This time the conversation was centered on the estate, and matters of more political interest. Apparently Lovel had been in the nearest market town all day discussing some matter of land, and Menard had been to one of the tenant farms regarding the sale of a breeding ram, and of course the beginning of harvest.
    The meal was served efficiently by the footmen and parlor maid and no one paid them the slightest attention.
    They were halfway through the remove, a roast saddle of mutton, when Menard, a handsome man in his early thirties, finally addressed Hester directly. He had similar dark brown hair to his elder brother, and a ruddy complexion from much time spent in the open. He rode to hounds with great pleasure, and considerable daring, and shot pheasant in season. He smiled from enjoyment, but seldom from perception of wit.
    "How agreeable of you to come and visit Aunt Callan-dra, Miss Latterly. I hope you will be able to stay with us for a while?"
    "Thank you, Mr. Grey," she said graciously. "That is very kind of you. It is a quite beautiful place, and I am sure I shall enjoy myself.''
    “Have you known Aunt Callandra long?'' He was making polite conversation and she knew precisely the pattern it would take.
    "Some five or six years. She has given me excellent advice from time to time."
    Lady Fabia frowned. The pairing of Callandra and good advice was obviously foreign to her. "Indeed?" she murmured disbelievingly. "With regard to what, pray?"
    "What I should do with my time and abilities," Hester replied.
    Rosamond looked puzzled. "Do?" she said quietly. "I don't think I understand." She looked at Lovel, then at her mother-in-law. Her fair face and remarkable brown eyes were full of interest and confusion.
    "It is necessary that I provide for myself, Lady Shel-burne," Hester explained with a smile. Suddenly Callan-dra's words about happiness came back to her with a force of meaning.
    "I'm sorry," Rosamond murmured, and looked down at her plate, obviously feeling she had said something indelicate.
    "Not at all," Hester assured her quickly. "I have already had some truly inspiring experiences, and hope to have more." She was about to add that it is a marvelous feeling to be of use, then realized how cruel it would be, and swallowed the words somewhat awkwardly over a mouthful of mutton and sauce.
    "Inspiring?" Lovel frowned. "Are you a religious, Miss Latterly?"
    Callandra coughed profusely into her napkin; apparently she had swallowed something awry. Fabia passed her a glass of water. Hester averted her eyes.
    "No, Lord Shelburne," she said with as much composure as she could. "I have been nursing in