Devon had deliberately chosen a shawl with the most vibrant colors imaginable. A garment that a widow could never, ever wear.
“I can’t accept this,” she said with a scowl. “It’s from Lord Trenear, and it is entirely too personal. Perhaps if it were a handkerchief or a tin of sweets —”
“But he’s a relation,” Helen surprised her by pointing out. “And a shawl isn’t all that personal, is it? One doesn’t wear it next to the skin, after all.”
“Think of it as a very large handkerchief,” Cassandra suggested.
“Even if I did keep it,” Kathleen said, “I would have to dye it black.”
The girls looked as aghast as if she had suggested murdering someone. They all spoke at once.
“You mustn’t —”
“Oh, but why?”
“To ruin such lovely colors —”
“How could I wear this as it is?” Kathleen demanded. “I’d be as flamboyant as a parrot. Can you imagine the gossip?”
“You can wear it at home,” Pandora interrupted. “No one will see.”
“Do try it on,” Cassandra urged. Despite Kathleen’s refusal, the girls insisted on draping it over her shoulders, just to see how it looked.
“How beautiful,” Helen said, beaming.
It was the most luxurious fabric she had ever felt, the fleece soft and cushiony. Kathleen ran her hand across the rich hues, and sighed. “I suppose I can’t ruin it with aniline dye,” she muttered. “But I’m going to tell him that I did.”
“You’re going to lie?” Cassandra asked, her eyes wide. “That’s not setting a very good example for us.”
“He must be discouraged from sending unsuitable gifts,” Kathleen said.
“It’s not his fault if he doesn’t know any better,” Pandora pointed out.
“He knows the rules,” Kathleen said darkly. “And he enjoys breaking them.”
My Lord,
It was very kind of you to send the lovely gift, which is very useful now that the weather has turned. I am pleased to relate that the cashmere absorbed an application of black dye quite evenly, so that it is now appropriate for mourning.
Thank you for your thoughtfulness.
Lady Trenear
“You dyed it?” Devon asked aloud, setting the note on his desk with a mixture of amusement and irritation.
Reaching for a silver penholder, he inserted a fresh nib and pulled a sheet of writing paper from a nearby stack. That morning he had already written a half-dozen missives to lawyers, his banker, and contractors, and had hired an outside agent to analyze the estate’s finances. He grimaced at the sight of his ink-stained fingers. The lemon-and-salt paste his valet had given him wouldn’t entirely remove the smudges. He was tired of writing, and even more so of numbers, and Kathleen’s letter was a welcome distraction.
The challenge could not go unanswered.
Staring down at the letter with a faint smile, Devon pondered the best way to annoy her.
Dipping the pen nib into the inkwell, he wrote,
Madam,
I am delighted to learn that you find the shawl useful in these cooler days of autumn.
On that subject, I am writing to inform you of my recent decision to donate all the black curtains that currently shroud the windows at Eversby Priory to a London charitable organization. Although you will regrettably no longer have use of the cloth, it will be made into winter coats for the poor, which I am sure you will agree is a far nobler purpose. I am confident in your ability to find other ways of making the atmosphere at Eversby Priory appropriately grim and cheerless.
If I do not receive the curtains promptly, I will take it to mean that you are eager for my assistance, in which case I will be delighted to oblige you by coming to Hampshire at once.
Trenear
Kathleen’s reply was delivered a week later, along with massive crates containing the black curtains.
My Lord,
In your concern for the downtrodden masses, it appears to have escaped your mind to inform me that you had arranged for a battalion of workmen to invade Eversby Priory. Even as I write, plumbers and carpenters wander freely throughout the house, tearing apart walls and floors and claiming that it is all by your leave.
The expense of plumbing is extravagant and unnecessary. The noise and lack of decorum is unwelcome, especially in a house of mourning.
I insist that this work discontinue at once.
Lady Trenear
Madam,
Every man has his limits. Mine happen to be drawn at outdoor privies.
The plumbing will continue.
Trenear
My Lord,
With so many improvements that are desperately needed on your lands, including repairs to laborers’ cottages, farm buildings, drainage systems, and enclosures, one must ask if your personal bodily comfort really outweighs all other considerations.
Lady Trenear
Madam,
In reply to your question,
Yes.
Trenear
“Oh, how I despise him,” Kathleen cried, slamming the letter onto the library table. Helen and the twins, who were poring over books of deportment and etiquette, all looked up at her quizzically.
“Trenear,” she explained with a scowl. “I informed him of the chaos he has caused, with all these workmen tramping up and down the staircases, and hammering and sawing at all hours of the day. But he doesn’t give a fig for anyone else’s comfort save his own.”
“I don’t mind the noise, actually,” Cassandra said. “It feels as if the house has come alive again.”
“I’m looking forward to the indoor water closets,” Pandora confessed sheepishly.
“Don’t tell me your loyalty has been bought for the price of a privy?” Kathleen demanded.
“Not just one privy,” Pandora said. “One for every floor, including the servants.”
Helen smiled at Kathleen. “It might be easier to tolerate a little inconvenience if we keep reminding ourselves of how pleasant it will be when it’s finished.”
The optimistic statement was punctuated by a series of thuds from downstairs that caused the floor to rattle.
“A little inconvenience?” Kathleen repeated with a snort. “It sounds as if the house is about to collapse.”
“They’re installing a boiler system,” Pandora said, flipping through a book. “It’s a set of two large copper cylinders filled with water pipes that are heated by gas burners. One never has to wait for the hot water – it comes at once through expansion pipes attached to the top of the boiler.”
“Pandora,” Kathleen asked suspiciously, “how do you know all that?”