Page 19 of Mistress of Darkness

Chapter 8

As Gwen changed out of her sodden and filthy garments, she couldn’t help but think that, if Parks hadn’t interrupted them, Robert would have kissed her—and she would have let him. What a turnabout the years had brought. She thought suddenly of another rainy day, when she’d been only sixteen. A very different Robert Sheraton had made his feelings clear.

Gwen sat on the back patio of the Sheraton estate with her sister, Regina, as their parents discussed something of grave importance inside. Regina was laughing as she chattered on and on with Christopher, who had brought her a small bouquet of daisies. Gwen sat nearby with a large tome that she couldn’t for the life of her focus on—especially when Robert joined them.

She had never met someone quite like Robert Sheraton. He was slightly older than her, and very attractive with his jet black hair and mysterious dark eyes. But more than that, he exuded an air of quiet certainty, as if he already knew his path in life. Perhaps it was to be expected as he was the older of the two brothers. In some sense, his role was decided.

He sat on a bench at the edge of the patio with his own book, while Regina giggled with Christopher. As Gwen idly flipped the pages of her volume, she watched Robert out of the corner of her eye. He seemed genuinely fascinated with what he was reading until he apparently felt her eyes on him.

“May I help you, Miss Archer?” he said, his reproachful tone drawing everyone’s attention.

The heat in Gwen’s cheeks told her that she must be blushing, but she wasn’t going to simply let his remark go unanswered.

“I was just wondering what…you are reading,” she said, nearly cringing at her own words.

“Were you indeed,” he retorted. He showed her the volume of Sir Walter Scott’s poems from her father’s library. “Here,” he said, “let me quote a particularly apt section to you.” Glancing down at the page, he put his finger on a certain line. “Oh! What a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive!”

When Regina tittered, Gwen glared at her, before slamming her book shut, and marching indoors.

Even now, the embarrassment of that long ago moment colored Gwen’s cheeks. He’d seemed to her unreservedly haughty and quite mean. In the intervening years, she’d convinced herself of it.

But now—she glanced at the ruined dress on the floor—she had to wonder.

* * *

Though it wasgood to get into a set of dry clothes, Robert didn’t relish confronting the grim truth with Gwen. She’d been marvelous out in the storm, if a bit reckless, and he’d come very close to kissing her. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d even been amenable to it. But the perfect moment had been lost and the heavy responsibilities of his family, and now the entire hall, had returned and settled him back to the earth.

When he checked her chambers and found them empty, he used his cane to proceed down to the secret library that had seemingly become a second home to her. But to his surprise, she wasn’t there. Even more disconcerting was the smell of food coming from the kitchen. Though he’d half-expected to find Parks there, despite what the man had said, he could scarce believe he saw Gwen at the stove. Over her white dress, she wore the cook’s apron, and stood in front of two large iron skillets.

“Gwen,” he exclaimed. “You cook?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said over her shoulder. “As you can see.”

In one skillet she was frying bacon and in the other eggs, though none of the yolks remained whole, and the bacon had burnt on one side.

“Let me help,” he said, taking down a large fork hanging from a hook. “I’ll flip the bacon.”

“I’m afraid I’ve built the fire unevenly and the pan is too hot in the middle,” she pointed out.

As she stepped aside to attend to the eggs, he used the fork to turn the thick cuts of back bacon, only to find himself instantly splattered with grease.

“Perhaps we should switch,” she suggested. “I have the apron.” As they did, he felt the light brush of her dress across his legs. “Where is Parks?” she asked.

“I’ve asked him to chip away the fractured portions of that stair step,” he said, and then paused. “Did he tell you that the rest of the servants have deserted?”

She began to plate the eggs on an oval silver platter. “No, but it didn’t take much guessing on my part to come to that conclusion.” She put a few eggs and slices of the meat on a separate plate. “We’ll save some for him.”

“Well,” Robert said, as they took their food to the makeshift table in the living room, “it’s very good of you to do this.” He rested the cane against an empty chair and held her seat for her.

She smiled up at him as she sat. “I was hungry.”

For several minutes they devoured their simple meal in silence. In fact, Robert couldn’t remember the last time he’d had eggs or bacon that he’d enjoyed so much. He poured two cups of tea from the china pot that was already on the table.

“Look, Gwen,” he finally said. “I can’t leave Dredthorne in case Christopher should arrive. There’s no point in me returning to London to conduct a search from there. I must stay until this matter is closed.” He looked directly into her light green eyes, distracted for a moment before he could continue. “But you should return to Renwick. Without servants, there’ll only be more hardships.”

When she’d finished sipping her tea, she set it down with purpose. “I’m not leaving,” she said simply, but firmly. “Regina is still missing as well. As you can see,” she indicated their empty plates with her eyes, “I can manage well enough. Because my father is not able to keep as many servants as Dredthorne has—or had—I have learned a few of the domestic skills of necessity.”

He looked at her with a renewed sense of wonder. “Is there anything that you cannot do? Any situation you cannot remedy?”

She blushed a little, flushing her cheeks with a most attractive shade of pink. “If I could bring our siblings to us, I would,” she said. “But since I can’t, we must make our wait as pleasant as may be. I’ll look into the house records and make a plan for Parks to go down into the village. Though rumors of the doings here at the hall may preclude our finding servants there, we might send word to London.”

Something in the tone of her voice, and her easy determination, spoke volumes of what her home life must have been. She was in her element, he decided, and clearly relished it.

Despite his aching ankle and the storm just now waning outside, he found himself relaxing for the first time in days. It was as though the extra responsibilities thrust upon them buoyed her up.

It also occurred to him that the new chores left no time to muse on malevolent spirits. But at any rate, she was right. As long as they continued to wait for his brother and her sister, or at least receive word from them, they should make their stay as pleasant as was possible.