Henry saw no reason for her to wait that long and took it upon himself to read the first story to her. She listened with rapt attention, her eyes sparkling with excitement, her lips parted in awe, and Henry could not think of a place he would rather be. When she finally fell asleep, he left the book on her nightstand and tiptoed out of the room.
HAVING ALREADY ATTENDED TO HIS urgent business, and with most of his friends out hunting in the country, Henry was at leisure to spend a considerable amount of time with his intriguing houseguest. They whiled away many hours together, during which Henry shared some of his favorite stories with Eliza. Scheherazade’s beguiling tales were followed by Rob Roy and then the charming characters populating Miss Austen’s work.
When they could find a third player for commerce, or even a fourth for whist, they played cards, and so the days of Eliza’s convalescence were spent happily enough.
Once Eliza could sit up for longer periods of time, Henry taught her how to play chess, finding her a worthy opponent. For the times when he had to attend to his affairs, he found lightweight volumes of popular novels, which she devoured with increasing speed.
She loved Shakespeare and laughed at Byron. Mrs. Radcliffe’s overwrought romantic heroines made her huff with impatience. But when Henry brought her a copy of Frankenstein, she read through the night in spellbound horror and bombarded him with questions concerning the scientific feasibility of the book’s premise the next morning. Henry did his best not to laugh and reassured her that, to his knowledge, no one had attempted to make a monster out of body parts yet. He introduced her to the literary notion of an allegory, and from there they went on to discuss the Greek myth of Prometheus. Eliza concluded that both tales were not unlike that of “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice,” a story she had heard from her father many times.
In short, she showed intelligence and understanding, and Henry felt more drawn to her each day.
CHAPTER FOUR
IT TOOK TWO MORE WEEKS BEFORE THE DOCTOR allowed Eliza out of bed. She was positively giddy at the prospect of ending her confinement and exploring Sir Henry’s house beyond the beautiful chamber in which she had spent the past fortnight and more.
Having ventured to the window once or twice on her way back from a trip to the chamber pot, Eliza had watched a few red-golden leaves fall in the square below, but she had never lingered long.
She would have liked to sit on the dainty chair in front of the writing desk between the two windows to watch the children at play below, but sitting had proved far more uncomfortable then standing or even walking. What she had glimpsed, however, had convinced her the houses around the square were rather grand, and it made her all the more curious about the house she was in.
Henry, always willing to abet her curiosity, suggested she come downstairs for afternoon tea and perhaps a turn about the garden if she felt strong enough. But by the time Henry knocked on Eliza’s door to escort her to the drawing room, a cold and gloomy drizzle had replaced the earlier sunshine.
Eliza had dressed with the help of the maid, donning one of the gowns Henry had urged Mrs. Tibbit to buy for her. The soft blue wool dress Eliza had chosen for the occasion was the most luxurious garment she had ever worn, and she couldn’t help but feel pretty in it. Dressing had been an adventure in itself since her arm was still in a sling, but her ribs for the most part felt better.
According to the doctor, it would take no longer then six weeks for her to be healed completely, and Mrs. Tibbit had promised to help her find a good position in a respectable house, but whether that would be enough to keep her safe from Wilkins and Horace was anybody’s guess.
Eliza wasn’t naïve enough to think she could remain in a single gentleman’s household beyond her recovery from her injuries, so she was grateful for the offer of assistance in finding work. With an uncertain future ahead of her, Eliza intended to fully enjoy the situation in which she presently found herself. After all, Sir Henry was handsome and kind, and for Eliza from The Cat and Fiddle to be convalescing in his Mayfair home with him for company was a tale almost worthy of Scheherazade telling her bloodthirsty sultan.
Eliza opened the door to Henry, hoping to please him with her appearance as much as with her progress in regaining her health.
Henry, for once wearing a full suit, was resplendent in an exquisitely cut dark blue jacket, a gray waistcoat, and gray pantaloons. His pristine white neckcloth was held together by a gold pin, and gold cufflinks winked from his wrists. He sketched her a little bow and offered his arm for the walk downstairs, surprising her with his courtly manners. “Good afternoon. Are you ready to depart, Miss Broad?” Henry smiled down at her, acting like a proper escort while letting an admiring eye roam over her figure in the form-fitting gown. “And may I just say how well you look in blue.”
Eliza attempted a small curtsy, her eyes sparkling with amusement as well as appreciation of his gallantry. “Why, thank you, Sir Henry! And may I remark how respectable you look with your necktie all tidy and your jacket all buttoned up.”
He grinned at her with the easy camaraderie they had built over the past fortnight. “Cheeky! Is it so wrong to want to be comfortable in my own home?”
She grinned right back at him. “It’s a good thing I’m not some simpering society miss. I might have fainted seeing you strutting about in your shirtsleeves in my bedroom.” She gave him the same kind of surreptitious once-over he had indulged in earlier. “But you do clean up rather nicely.”
Henry’s laughter filled the corridor as they strolled toward the front staircase. He stopped, stood back a step, and took another appraising look at her.
She was slender and of medium height; her breasts sat high and filled out her dress to perfection. The bruises were all gone now, and the big brown eyes dominating her face held a hint of mischief. Her dark curls shone in the light of the sconces on the landing and were held back off her face with two combs at her temples and then left to fall down her back in a luxurious cascade.
Her gown tied at the front left side with three bows, the high V-neck collar revealing only the dimple at the base of her throat, and the soft white cotton underdress spilled from beneath the hem and sleeves. Tan kid half-boots peeked out from under her gown, and the white ruffle at her wrists fell almost to the base of her long fingers. It was a dress infinitely suited to a chilly late November day, but somehow the sheer modesty of it made the girl inside it all the more enticing.
“So do you, Eliza. So do you.”
He raised her hand over their heads and twirled her in front of him, and she let out a startled burst of laughter. It was a beautiful sound, clear as a bell and warm as sunshine, and he resolved to make her laugh again before the day was done.
“Shall we, Mademoiselle?” he said, indicating the stairs.
“By all means,” she replied, copying his accent and manner, laughter still shining bright in her eyes.
He wrapped her hand around his arm once more and led her downstairs, across the black-and-white checkerboard marble of the foyer and into the drawing room where Mrs. Tibbit had prepared tea.
AFTERNOON TEA WAS ALL ELIZA had imagined it might be. The silver teapot had a candle beneath it so the tea never cooled, and it pivoted on hinges so one didn’t have to pick up the heavy pot in order to pour tea into delicate china cups. The food was laid out on a three-tiered silver platter with an ornate handle on top and ranged from tiny, crustless cucumber sandwiches to warm scones with clotted cream, to dainty little custard tarts that concealed a juicy plum in their center.