The Elsingham Portrait - By Elizabeth Chater Page 0,26

old trouble recur.

Intolerable.

Kathryn drew back a step or two. “My lord,” she began, and her voice trembled in spite of her effort to control it.

Lord John smiled a little, tenderly. Kathryn noted that it was a singularly attractive smile. “Call me by my name, Na-Kathryn,” he suggested. “As you did in Paris.”

But the damage had been done. “Na-Kathryn.” That’s what she would be, if she weakened and let herself stay here. An afterthought, the weak echo of another woman.

“John,” she complied, fighting desperately to avoid his gaze, his warmth, his exciting presence. “Will you permit me to rest now? I’m still pretty shaky. We can . . . continue our discussion tomorrow, when I am rested and calmer.”

Lord John accepted his dismissal with perfect courtesy. “Of course, my dear. Although I for one do not anticipate that you and I will ever be able to discuss this issue calmly.” His smile was rueful as he bowed and went quietly from the room.

Watching his broad shoulders in the faultlessly tailored coat, Kathryn knew that her heart would betray her if she had to have any more ‘discussions’ with this nobleman.

*****

Entering an hour later, Bennet found Kathryn seated in an armchair near the dying fire. Bennet was carrying the golden dress. “Miss Kathryn,” she whispered, “everyone’s gone to bed. I’ve lighted the candles—there’s a proper blaze above the portrait. Lady Nadine had new sconces installed, just so her picture would be well-lighted for the reception. She was a very vain young woman,” finished the older woman with a disapproving shake of the head.

Kathryn smiled ruefully. “Well, we’ll have to admit that she had plenty to be vain about,” she commented. Bennet didn’t know whether to be shocked or amused, considering the lips from which the words were coming, but she joined Kathryn’s soft laughter.

“I can’t seem to connect you with her,” she whispered. “Not that I was that close to Lady Nadine. Donner held everyone at arm’s length; keeping the poor child under control, I suppose. But it was impossible to mistake her character—”

“And mine is different?” invited Kathryn.

But Bennet wouldn’t be led into flattery. “Come now, Miss Kathryn, we’ve got to get you into this garish bit of a costume and down to the landing before someone wakes and discovers what we’re about.” She hesitated. “Are you sure, Miss Kathryn? Very sure that this is the only way?”

“I’m sure, Bennet. Don’t confuse me.”

“Never,” vowed Bennet devoutly, and assisted Kathryn into the dress.

“I don’t think it’ll matter if my hair isn’t fixed exactly the same,” whispered Kathryn. “Anyway, I could never get it to look that way again. It must have taken an hour.”

“An hour?” sniffed Bennet. “More like three or four! And looked a proper rats’ nest at the end of it!”

In spite of—or perhaps because of—the serious nature of their project, the two women found themselves giggling wildly over a joke that really wasn’t funny. “We’re getting hysterical,” cautioned Kathryn. “We’d better go down to the landing quickly, before I lose my nerve.”

“That reminds me,” whispered Bennet as they left the exquisite room for the last time—Kathryn hoped—“I’ve got this,” and she held out the little bottle.

Kathryn drew in her breath sharply.”Bennet! Do you think we should? How much of it should I take?”

They were in front of the portrait now, very conscious of the mocking light in those painted, sea-green eyes that stared so insolently down at them.

“I don’t know, milady,” confessed Bennet, forgetting the ‘Miss Kathryn’ in her distress of spirit. “I’m not even sure you should take any of it—but there’s little doubt, if what that creature said was true, that Lady Nadine was full of it, the night—the night you changed places.”

“Do you know,” said Kathryn with an air of discovery, “I’ve never for one moment thought of her—of Lady Nadine. If I came here, did she go to the picture gallery in New York? I wonder what she thought of plain Miss Hendrix’s body—and that awful old coat?” She began to giggle compulsively. Bennet shushed her quickly.

“Miss Kathryn! You’ll have them all down on us! Tell me, what must I do?”

“Well, you’d better give me a few drops of that drug—I’ll try first with a little—”

“You will try no such thing in my house,” came a voice of such icy contempt that Kathryn felt her flesh shrink. “I should have known not to expect truth or decency from you, Nadine. But to have drawn poor innocent Bennet into your filthy schemes—Give me that!” and Lord