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Carlton, on his part, was not unmoved by her pallor and the coldness of the hand he held. Knowing Bagshot by reputation, he had some comprehension of her feelings. But his sympathy was diluted by his masculine impatience with female vapors and by other antagonistic sentiments of which Maria
It appeared that they were expected. Before Carlton could ring, the door was opened by a butler of impressive proportions and dignified visage. Carlton delivered his hat into the possession of this personage.
"Her Grace…?"
"Awaits you in the small blue parlor," replied the butler.
A footman in powdered wig and green satin knee breeches opened a door to the right. The entrance hallway, floored in a pattern of green malachite and yellow marble, was so large it seemed to take forever to cross it. Carlton took Maria
Maria
This vast, chilly expanse was occupied by three living creatures. One was as out of place as a bear in a boudoir; red-faced, corpulent, his wiry gray hair standing up on end, he stroked his bushy mustache with one finger and glared at Maria
The lady who held the dog was a larger, living version of the Meissen shepherdess that stood on the mantel beside her. Snowy hair, exquisitely coiffed, framed a face from which all color had fled. Maria
Carlton cleared his throat. Before he could speak the dog let out a sharp, piercing yelp, as if the lady's white hands had contracted around its body. Dropping the animal unceremoniously onto a nearby chair, the lady glided toward Maria
"My darling child," she cried. "Found at last! So long lost, so happily returned to my arms. Found at last!"
It was too much for Maria
CHAPTER FIVE
When Maria
A glass was held to her lips; she swallowed automatically. The liquid was thick and rather sweet. Then the same voice said, "She will do. It was merely a swoon – or a pretty counterfeit of one."
The gruff masculine tones assured Maria
"Horace, how often must I tell you to refrain from such statements? You will strain our friendship if you persist."
This voice was the one Maria
"Are you better, my child?" she asked tenderly. "Roger has told me of the dreadful place in which he found you, and of… But I will not speak of that, and you must never recall it. How could I have rushed at you so! I blame myself. Naturally you are bewildered. You can know nothing of your true history."
A growl, so heavy with cynicism that it required no words, came from the tall, stout man standing beside the lady. His gold-rimmed glasses had slipped even farther toward the end of his nose. It required no great effort of intelligence for Maria
"I don't understand, ma'am," she began.
The doctor – for such, Maria
"Horace." The Duchess spoke gently but firmly. "One more word and I will ask you to leave."
"Honoria, you know I speak out of concern for you. The state of your health… The feverish excitement of this meeting – of the past few days -"
"But my anxieties are now relieved, in the joy of this meeting," the Duchess assured her. "I appreciate your concern, old friend, but I must insist that you keep still. The poor girl is confused enough. I will enlighten her. But first, a glass of wine – something to strengthen her -"
"A glass of wine will make her sick, or tipsy, or both," said a voice from the other side of the bed. Maria
The Duchess agreed to this, but insisted on a brief interval of recuperation for Maria
Under the lady's direction she was bathed, brushed, perfumed, and wrapped in a gown of the same delicate shell pink that filled the room. The unobtrusive luxury of her surroundings, from the huge marble bath to the gold-backed hairbrush wielded by the maid, were completely new to Maria