it, Cecilia’s knees went weak with alarm.
One didn’t scold a marquess, for pity’s sake, especially not when one was said marquess’s servant, and even more particularly when said marquess wasn’t just any marquess, but potentially the Murderous Marquess—
“Will you take another cup of tea, dear? You look a bit peaked.” Mrs. Briggs regarded Cecilia with concern. “After the day we’ve had, I daresay you’re fatigued.”
Cecilia slid her teacup across the scrubbed kitchen table toward Mrs. Briggs with a grateful smile. “Thank you. I imagine you’re tired, too. It was a long day for you, as well.”
“I don’t mind telling you I don’t fancy making up beds.” Mrs. Briggs braced one hand in the middle of her back, grimacing. “Hurts my old bones, it does.”
Cecilia’s bones were young enough, but that didn’t stop them creaking in protest with every feeble twitch of her limbs. Yesterday they’d beaten dirt from the carpets until Cecilia thought her arms would fall off. This morning they’d dusted every inch of the downstairs rooms, and spent the afternoon scrubbing bedchambers and making up beds with clean linen.
Every bedchamber, that is, except the late Lady Darlington’s.
Miss Honeywell was not, it seemed, to take up residence in the marchioness’s apartments. Curious, that. Whatever secret Lord Darlington was hiding behind those closed doors must be a terrible one, indeed. It was on the tip of Cecilia’s tongue to ask Mrs. Briggs about it, but she didn’t dare pry into that business yet.
She was, however, perfectly willing to pry into other, less sensitive business. “Isabella doesn’t look much like Lord Darlington. Does she not resemble her father’s side of the family?”
Mrs. Briggs’s gaze dropped to her teacup. “No, she looks more like her mother.”
“She’s an unusually beautiful child, isn’t she? Such pretty hazel eyes.”
Mrs. Briggs beamed. “Oh my, yes. You can’t imagine what an adorable baby she was, with those big eyes of hers, like two bright stars. Fairly hypnotized us all, she did.”
“Her mother must be a great beauty.” Cecilia took care not to appear too interested, aware she’d have to tread carefully here. Mrs. Briggs had been with the family for years, well before the current Lord Darlington’s father inherited the title. She knew more about the mysteries surrounding Darlington Castle than anyone, but she was also the least inclined to gossip.
“Have you not seen Lady Leanora’s portrait hanging in the small picture gallery?” Mrs. Briggs asked with surprise.
“What, you mean the gallery outside Lord Darlington’s study?” Cecilia did her best not to look at that row of ghoulish faces whenever she was obliged to pass through that hallway, but she was quite certain there wasn’t a single beauty amongst them.
“No, no. The small picture gallery is tucked under the eaves on the second-floor landing. Lady Leanora’s portrait is there. She is indeed a striking beauty, but then Lord Darlington’s elder brother, Nathanial, was as handsome a gentleman as I’ve ever seen. He and Lady Leanora together were…” Mrs. Briggs paused, as if searching for a word that did them justice. “They were truly magnificent.”
Cecilia was stirring her tea, but she paused at the wistful note in Mrs. Briggs’s voice. “Indeed?”
“My, yes. They were both darlings of the ton, you know, and the toast of London when they were courting. Such a pity their marriage wasn’t a happier one, but then that’s what comes of a whirlwind courtship, I suppose. They hardly knew each other when they wed.”
Cecilia set her spoon aside. “They weren’t happy together?”
Mrs. Briggs sighed. “Not after the first year or so, no. Lady Leanora was very young, you understand, and then years passed without a child. It put a strain on their marriage. Nathanial—the late marquess, that is—left Lady Leanora behind in Kent and went off to live with Gideon in London those last few years before he died. He came home now and again, but I doubt he would have returned to the castle to live if Lady Leanora hadn’t conceived.”
“That is a pity.” Cecilia poured more milk into her tea, her gaze on her teacup to hide her expression. “Isabella was only an infant when her father died, wasn’t she?”
“Just two months old. Nathanial’s death was a terrible tragedy, and a dreadful shock to us all. I’ve never seen a man more devastated than Gideon—I mean, Lord Darlington—when he returned to Darlington Castle for his brother’s funeral. Indeed, he’s never been the same.”
Cecilia heard a telltale quiver in Mrs. Briggs’s voice, and looked up to find the housekeeper’s eyes bright with tears.