The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor Read Free Page A

butler.  
    The man inclined his head of thick grey hair.  ‘ Good evening, my lady, ’ he said gravely , as Eleanor made her way into the impressive wood-panelled entrance hall.  ‘ My name is Giles.  Welcome to Whitlock Castle. ’
    Eleanor offered him a weary smile.  ‘ Good evening, Giles .  I believe my g odmother is expecting me. ’
    The man’s ruddy face and voic e re mained completely expressionless .  ‘ Indeed she is, my lady .  I am to show you to your chambers then you are to meet Lady Ormiston i n the drawing - room in half an hour.  If you would like to follow me, I will show you to your rooms. ’
    Eleanor nodded her compliance, grateful for the chance to stretch her legs. As she followed his stout frame through the maze of d imly lit corridors, steps and stairs, she temporarily forgot her nerves and found herself gazing in awe at the ancient wall hangings, antique furniture, suits of armour and imposing family portr aits lining the stone walls. How many people, she wonder ed , had lived in this c astle over the years ; and what tales would the walls be able to tell of the dramas that had unfolded here ?   
    Lost in he r musings, she started as she realiz ed Giles had come to a stop and was mid-flow issuing a stream of instructions.
    ‘ … and left again to the drawing- room, my lady , ’ he was saying .  ‘ I will leave you now to acquaint yourself with your chambers. ’ He pushed open an ancient oak door, which creaked loudly.  ‘ Her g race will expect you in half an hour, ’ he concluded, inclining his head before marching briskly back from whence they had come.  
    ‘Um … thank you , Giles,’ muttered Eleanor to the departing figure.  Moving to the threshold she peered inside the room.  Her eyes widened as she absorbed the welcoming sight before her.  Her last memories of the rooms a t Whitlock had been shabby, old- fashioned and draughty.  From what she saw of this room , however, it was clear that the building had undergone some major refurbishment.  The first thing that astounde d her was the sheer size of it :  her c hamber at home w as large but this room was enormous. On the wall to her left, a huge fire burned in the grate, its hospitable warmth instantly envelop ing her as she stepped insid e and closed the door .  In addition to the glow of the fire, there were three large silver candelabras plac ed about the room, creating a cosy ambience, w hich immediately lifted Eleanor’s spirits.  The wall facing her housed a row of three windows.  Their shutters had been closed, blocking out all evidence of the miserable weather outside.  In front of the windows, was a mahogany writing desk and chair , and in the corner a high- backed armchair covered in cream damask.  By far the most imposing piece of furniture was the ancient oak four-poster bed, draped with heavy brocade curtains in deep rose , with a matching coverlet.  Unlike the walls and ceilings of the corridors , those of her bedchamber had been elaborately plastered with fashionable panel ling and intricate coving, the detail of which was shown off perfect ly by the warm shades of cream in which the room had been decorate d.  On the walls hung an assortment of landscape paintings , each encased in a heavy gold frame , while an Aubusson carpet in subtle shades of pink covered the floor.  A door to t he right of the marble firep lace led into a large dressing- room complete with a small blue velvet sofa, a three-drawer dressing table and a very large, unavoidable free-standing mirror.  Eleanor groaned loudly as she caught sight of her reflection.  She looked exactly as she felt – tired, dirty and d ishevelled.  Her dark- green travelling gown and pelisse were cre ased and dusty, her thick auburn hair - unruly at the best of times – now wild and disorderly as it escape d the confines of her bonnet.  Not at all the impression of the grown-up, independent young woman she wished to portray to her