The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor Read Free Page B

godmother.  She should really repair her toilette and change her attire but , in the absence of her valise, she would have to make do.  She removed her pelisse and bonnet, splashed her face with water from the washstand, re-pinned her loose strands of hair and smoothed down her skirts.   Then, feeling slightly more refreshed, she perched on the edge of the bed and attempted to prepare herself mentally for the meeting she had been dreading for the past four-and-twenty hours.  Being normally of a sanguine disposition, she brusquely set aside all negative thoughts regarding the scheming Hester, and turned her attention to the positives of her situation.  Taking in the beautiful décor and exquisite furnishings of her chambers, she decided that perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad at Whitlock after all.  Having seen fi t to provide her with such comfortable quarters, perhaps her godmother was actually looking forward to her company.  In fact, she pondered, perhaps Hester had done her a favour: perhaps it was time she left home , experienced new things , saw a little of life.  She certainly had no wish to marry , but she could make the most of her circumstances. She would, she resolved, greet her godmother as an equal, on a level footing and she woul d, under no circumstances , let the old woman intimidate her.    
    Feeling relatively cheerful, she cracked open the creaking door and marched assertively into the corridor.  No sooner had the do or swung shut behind her, though , than a wave of apprehension engulfed her .  Compared to the cosy warmth of her rooms , the cold stone corridor, lit only by a few sparsely placed old-fashioned wa ll lant erns, emitted a sinister air.  The objets d’ art which she had admired only a few minutes before, now appeared threatening and ghostly in the faint flickering light.  A sudden vision of the Wailing Whitlock Widow, futilely searching the corridors for the ghost of her beloved dead husband, flashed through Eleanor’s mind.  She shi vered as several sets of dark, painted eyes bor ed into her.  For goodness ’ sake, she chided herself, shrugging away her apprehension as pure foolishness, they w ere only paintings, and there was no such thing as ghosts.  Desperately, she tried to recall some snippet of the directions Giles had given her , or at least something of the route they had taken .  Well, it could only be left or right, she determined, so she would try left first , which was the direction in which Giles had disappeared earlier. 
    Her kid leather boots scuffing against the stone floor was the only sound as she made her away along the corridor, the heavy silence a dding to her unease.  She released a long sigh of relief when, at the end of the passageway, she located a narrow stone staircase .  She scampered down the st airs hoping to find something sh e recogniz ed and some sig n of life on the floor below.  The corridor in which she found herself, though , was not at all familiar, containing an array of stag s’ heads, which u ndoubtedly she would have remembered.  At a complete loss as to which way to go now, she turn ed right but, a few minutes later, met a dead end.  Sighing , she retraced her step s .  Overcome with fatigue and hunger, all her optimism dissolv ed and frustrated tears pooled in her eyes.   Quickly, s he pulled herself together , blinking back the tears.  With her head held high she continued to the end of the corridor, ignoring the two other, equally sized passages leading from it.  Suddenly, just as she passed one of the ancient studded doors, it burst open and before she knew wha t was happening, something large and solid ba rged into her .  Eleanor tumbled to the floor, landing wit h a hard thud on the cold flagstones. 
    ‘ For goodness ’ sake , woman!  Don’t you look where you are going? ’
    Completely taken aback, Eleanor tilted up her head and found herself gazing directly into the face of a clean-shaven young man, with a