Jonesy chose that moment to lift his head and growl.
Miss Hartwright stopped short.
Neville strode to her side. “No,” he said to Jonesy.
The mastiff obeyed, though he continued to watch Miss Hartwright with a hostile eye.
“That’s Jonesy,” Neville said. The older mastiff was crochety at the best of times, downright aggressive at the worst. “And that’s Paul. Paul is… He’s younger.”
Paul lifted his head at the sound of his name, his tail thumping.
“He doesn’t look half so fearsome.” Miss Hartwright reached out to pet him. “May I?”
Neville nodded.
She stroked Paul’s head before crouching down in a pool of skirts to give a pet to Bertie. The pug continued to snore. “He’s sound asleep.”
“He’s old.”
“Should I leave him here? I’d intended to bring him to my rooms, but…” She frowned. “I wonder if he’s happier to be with the other dogs?”
“It’s the fire,” Neville said. “He wants to be warm.”
“There’s a fire in my bedroom. Perhaps I’d better take him there. He’ll have a soft carpet to sleep on. And no servants coming and going to trouble him.” She scooped the little pug up in her arms.
Bertie woke, blinking his bulging eyes up at her. His tongue lolled.
“There you are, Bertie,” she whispered. “Good boy.” She moved to rise.
Neville stepped forward and offered her his hand. She took it gratefully, permitting him to help her to her feet.
“Thank you.” Her cheeks flushed pink. She glanced back down the corridor. “Would you mind walking back with me up the stairs? I wouldn’t care to slip and fall. Especially not while carrying Bertie.”
“Of course.”
She walked ahead of him, the pug cradled close to her chest. “And I don’t suppose you have any idea where I can procure ink and paper? I’m desperate to write a letter.”
A letter to whom? He didn’t dare ask. It was none of his business. She was none of his business.
But that didn’t mean he should be rude, or careless of her. Greyfriar’s Abbey was his home, wasn’t that what Justin was always saying? That made Neville something like a host to her. And there was nothing untoward in being hospitable. “The library. I…I can fetch it for you.”
Clara stood behind Mrs. Bainbridge’s chair, helping to secure a mother-of-pearl pin into her employer’s hair. “Is that better?”
Mrs. Bainbridge eyed her reflection in the mirror of the elegant dressing table in her bedroom. She turned her head this way and that, examining her upswept blond curls. “I’ve so much silver in my hair. I simply can’t credit it. Age does have an aggravating way of creeping up on a lady.”
“It’s very becoming,” Clara said. “The silver, I mean. And the hair ornament.”
“A gift from my late husband, God rest his soul.” Mrs. Bainbridge met Clara’s gaze in the mirror. “You don’t find it too youthful?”
“Not at all, ma’am.”
“I see that you’ve chosen to go without ornamentation.”
Clara lifted a self-conscious hand to the invisible net in which she’d rolled her tresses. “I didn’t have anything to suit. Only a coral necklace, and a satin ribbon in my sewing box, and neither matches my gown.”
Her silk dinner dress was as plain as her coiffure. Only the color—a shade of golden brown so soft it was best described as champagne—was worthy of remark. It was the newest of all of her gowns, and even then, two years out of date. But it still fit her as perfectly as the day she’d purchased it in London. And it was the fit that counted, as well as being neat and tidy. Trimmings could be dispensed with. Should be dispensed with.
No one wanted a lady’s companion decked out in flounces and fripperies.
“Fetch my jewel case out of the wardrobe,” Mrs. Bainbridge said.
Clara supposed she should be indignant. She wasn’t a lady’s maid, after all, to be assisting with arranging and adorning her mistress’s hair. But there was no point in kicking up a fuss over trivialities. She did as she was bid, all the while understanding that, to many elderly ladies, a companion was little more than a maid of all work. Someone to run and fetch. To retrieve wayward shawls, spectacles, and prayer books.
And Clara wasn’t too proud to do so. Not if the position meant a roof over her and Bertie’s head, and the necessary coin to pay her brother’s school fees.
She found the case on a wardrobe shelf and brought it to Mrs. Bainbridge.
Mrs. Bainbridge opened the hinged lid and sifted through the scant contents. Clara glimpsed the sparkle of garnets, the shimmer of pearls, and a twinkle of something clear and bright, which might have been either diamonds or paste. “Here.” Mrs. Bainbridge withdrew a small topaz brooch surrounded by seed pearls. “Bend your head, my dear.”
Clara obliged her.
Mrs. Bainbridge fixed the little brooch to the top of Clara’s hairnet. “There.”
Clara straightened, gazing into the mirror. The brooch was delicate but striking, the stone a lustrous golden amber that complemented her eyes and hair.
“You see how well it becomes you?” Mrs. Bainbridge gave her a satisfied smile. “You may borrow it for the evening.”
Clara fingered the hair ornament. It was the first nice thing her new employer had done for her. Evidence that her initial impression of the lady hadn’t been wrong. Mrs. Bainbridge was starchy. She was also kind. And generous, too, it seemed. “You needn’t—”
“Nonsense. Every young lady must have a bauble to wear at dinner. Especially when in such refined company as this.” Mrs. Bainbridge’s voice took on a conspiratorial note. “Lady Helena’s brother is the Earl of Castleton. He might have joined us for Christmas, but I’m told he returned to India last month. He owns a tea plantation there in the hills of Darjeeling.”
“Oh. I hadn’t any idea.”
“Indeed. Her ladyship’s pedigree rivals that of the finest ladies in the land. Of course, my niece isn’t at all intimidated. She’s known Lady Helena all of a week and already feels quite at home here. I understand her ladyship puts on no airs. Nor why should she? She’s married as humbly as my niece has.”
Clara didn’t know the history of Mrs. Archer’s husband any more than she knew that of Mr. Thornhill. She was aware that the two men had been childhood friends—a connection which had prompted the invitation for Christmas. Other than that, she was completely in the dark.