Blood Memories - By Barb Hendee Page 0,42

commotion?

She was making a poor pretense of dusting the banister when animated voices rose up the staircase, accompanied by sounds of light-clicking heels.

“What do you mean, ‘she’s disappeared’?”

“I can’t understand it, my lady. We’ve searched everywhere.” This voice was masculine: the house steward, Mr. Shevonshire.

Eleisha slipped quickly behind a large red vase on the first landing. Who had vanished?

“Well, you’ll simply have to replace her. There are twenty people on the guest list, and Marion cannot serve dinner alone.”

“What do you suggest, my lady?” the steward asked dryly. “That we set up interviews in the study? We have three hours.”

“Serving girls are not my concern. Why you can’t deal with these trivial matters yourself has never ceased to—” The female voice stopped. “Come out of there.”

When Eleisha realized she’d been noticed, she stopped breathing. But survival instincts took over, and she stepped into view.

“What were you doing back there?” demanded a tall, auburn-haired lady with dark circles under her eyes.

“Dusting,” Eleisha answered with downcast eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Eleisha Clevon. My mother helps in the kitchen.”

The lady stared at her for a moment, taking in her hair and thin stature. “How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

Tossing her head as though having made a decision, the woman turned to sweep back down the stairs. “Put her in a uniform,” she said offhandedly to Mr. Shevonshire. “And have Marion give her the course list. She’ll have to do.”

Eleisha found herself standing alone with the angry house steward. They expected her to serve a formal dinner?

“Oh, no,” she said. “I can’t hold trays for proper ladies and gentlemen. I wouldn’t know which one to bring out first.”

“Be quiet.” The expression on his face suggested he’d rather drop her down the stairwell, but he sighed and headed for the salaried servants’ quarters. “Come with me.”

Marion, the head serving maid, turned out to be so glad at the prospect of help she actually smiled and went over the menu several times, explaining carefully when each dish would be served. “Don’t be worrying. You just follow what I do and keep your eyes down.”

Eleisha’s fear faded slightly at Marion’s calm manner. She’d never been in one of the hired servants’ rooms before. White walls and a little four-poster bed made the atmosphere pleasant.

“Did the girl I’m replacing really disappear?”

“Got shipped off more likely.” Marion frowned. “Some of these girls what keep flirting with their betters deserves it, I say. Pretty face and a round bum, and they think some squire will lose his head and forget who he is.”

Such stories sounded romantic to Eleisha. “Who was she flirting with?”

“Who? Master Julian, that’s who.” Marion’s frown relaxed into a thoughtful, distant look. “You mind my words and stay away from him. Something ain’t right with him.” She trailed off, and then smiled again. “But you’re a good girl. I can tell. Let’s find a uniform, and I’ll pin up your hair.”

Serving dinner turned out far differently than Eleisha expected. The house and its inhabitants had never seemed so alive. Lord William, dressed in a handsome black suit, laughed amidst gold-rimmed champagne glasses, and toasted his son’s return. All the guests, dressed in exquisite splendor, grew intoxicated by his mood, and cheerful voices emanated from the great dining hall.

In her short life, Eleisha had known several girls who dreamed of being noble and wealthy, of drinking champagne and wearing silk gowns. Although she herself had no such aspirations, the silver trays and crystal chandeliers gave the evening a magical, almost unreal glow. Only one thing dampened her impression of the glorious dinner: Master Julian himself.

Sitting near his father, Julian neither smiled nor raised his glass. Taking in the sight of them together, Eleisha thought it nearly impossible that two men with such similar features could still appear so strikingly different. She wouldn’t have placed them as father and son. Despite its fine tailoring, Julian’s suit brought him no elegance. His dark hair had outgrown its cut and hung at uneven angles around a solid chin. Nearly black eyes glittered coldly in his pale face. Over six feet in height, he actually seemed taller but expressed arrogance rather than pride. While he did not partake in his father’s exuberance, he did not appear bored either, and talked at length with several of the guests.

“You’re right about the young master,” she whispered to Marion while they refilled soup tureens. “He’s odd.”

“Look at the few people he’ll actually chat with,” Marion whispered back. “Only blue bloods. He won’t even look at Lady Eleanor Endor. She