but I don't seem to be feeling very well. The soup may have been a bit rich for me. If you don't mind, I'll go on to bed now."
"Certainly, Betsy. I hope you're feeling better in the morning." When the housekeeper had departed, Micheline sighed. "I don't have much of an appetite myself. Will you both excuse me?"
"But you haven't touched your soup!" Patience exclaimed, wounded. "I ground the almonds and picked the herbs myself! Please, at least try it! Whatever ails Mistress Trymme has nothing to do with my soup!"
Prepared to do anything to stop Patience's whining, which sounded remarkably similar to Rupert's customary tone, Micheline obediently swallowed several spoonfuls of soup. Thick with ham, cream, sherry, and almonds, it was far too rich for her taste that evening. "It's delicious, and I appreciate your efforts, but I fear that I simply haven't much of an appetite."
"What do you think. Cicely?" Patience pointed her long chin in the younger girl's direction.
"I can't say, I'm afraid. I despise almonds. Sorry, but I won't taste it even for you, Patience."
They were still arguing about whether Cicely should try the soup as Micheline rose and slipped from the room. Upstairs, she shed her gown and petticoat, then walked over to the dresser and picked up her looking glass.
"Mon Dieu," she whispered, "I look ghastly."
Still wearing her chemise, Micheline crossed the chamber and crawled into the bed that now seemed cold and uncomfortable without Andrew. His face swam before her, even after she closed her eyes, but at least tonight sleep stepped in to provide an escape. In fact, Micheline found that once again she was unable to resist its seductive force.
* * *
In her own bedchamber Lady Cicely Weston lay wide awake, though the manor house was dark and she guessed it must be nearly midnight. Aside from the guilt she felt for causing her brother and his new wife so much distress, she also had the uneasy feeling that something else was wrong. Patience had been acting awfully odd lately. Of course, she'd always been odd, but there was a twist to this new mood that disturbed Cicely.
Why should Patience want to conspire to drive away Andrew's wife? When she'd suggested that they tell Micheline he'd been unfaithful, her explanation about sympathizing with Cicely and knowing that Micheline was wrong for Andrew seemed to make sense, but now Cicely had second thoughts. It had seemed rather a joke yesterday—until she saw her brother's face late that night when he was preparing to leave for London. She'd understood then just how deeply he loved Micheline. It was a love too real to be killed by an unkind prank. The thought of him in pain, because of her, had haunted Cicely ever since.
Complicating the situation further was the fact that Cicely was beginning to like Micheline. She realized now that sparks of affection had been struck many times, beginning the day in Yorkshire when Micheline had invited her to live with them, but all along Cicely had obstinately refused to open her heart' Tonight at supper, however, the sight of Micheline's stricken pale face had struck a chord within Cicely. She was starting to understand that this French girl Andrew loved so completely might become a lifelong friend rather than the enemy she'd imagined.
Sighing, Cicely turned on her side and closed her eyes, trying to relax enough to sleep. Tomorrow she resolved to treat Micheline with kindness. Perhaps overtures of friendship might be made... if it wasn't too late.
An odd, soft sound outside her door caused Cicely to lift her head from the pillow. Someone was out in the corridor! Who could it be—and why? She sat up, listening. It seemed to her that the person was moving down the hall, toward Andrew and Micheline's bedchamber. Moments later all was silent, but Cicely continued to feel uneasy.
Finally she climbed out of bed, donned a wrapper, and instinctively picked up a candlestick. Strangely fearful, she stood next to her own door for a full minute before summoning the courage to open it and step into the corridor. At first, the only sound Cicely heard was the pounding of blood in her temples, and she was surrounded by darkness. Then she saw Patience emerge from Micheline and Andrew's room in a blaze of light. When the bony woman closed the door behind her, the hallway went black once again.
Cicely sniffed the air, terror-stricken. Could there be a fire? If so, why wasn't Patience screaming for