Page 96 of The Shadow Key

‘She is indeed,’ Henry replies softly.

Linette flushes in her discomfit. ‘Where is Miss Carew?’ she asks to change the subject, and this time it is Henry who colours, a soft shot of pink staining the high plane of his cheekbones.

‘She returned home to change,’ he says. ‘It was good of you, sir, to invite her.’

Julian inclines his head. ‘Under the circumstances I felt it only proper. I’m not ignorant of the fact that she has been invaluable help to you both at the mine. Indeed, adding one more to the party was no hardship.’

The doorbell jangles loudly on its pull.

‘Ah!’ Julian exclaims, taps his cane. ‘The first of our guests.’

Over Merlin’s shrill barks Linette’s nerves tighten like harp strings. She is dreading tonight’s enforced formality, the tedious company she knows she will keep, the condescension, the veiled insults. Cadoc, who has been waiting quietly beside the fire, steps forward to open the door.

‘Sir John Selwyn, Lady Elizabeth Selwyn,’ he announces needlessly, and Julian moves forward to shake the former’s hand.

‘Ah, my good fellow, welcome. I’m very pleased to see you.’

‘A pleasure, a pleasure!’ Sir John booms, crossing onto the flagstones, trailing gravel. ‘The roads are dry for which I am grateful. All that rain we had, I was sure the way would be flooded.’ He pushes his hat into Cadoc’s waiting hands without a glance. ‘We feared we’d have to send our apologies, did we not, Liza?’

Lady Selwyn sweeps through into the vestibule, peeling finely embroidered travelling gloves from her fingers one by one, looking around her with a vague kind of interest.

‘Yet here we are,’ she says as Julian bends to kiss her hand. ‘I hope we’ve not kept you waiting.’

‘Certainly not,’ Julian demurs. ‘You’re the first to arrive.’

‘Capital, capital!’ Sir John claps, squirrel eyes pin-bright.

He is a man of average height and average build, but there is something of the blathering dandy about him, Linette has always found, and tonight is no different – he is dressed in a suit of navy pinstripe, the elaborately embroidered waistcoat too tight for his paunch. Sir John wears a dove-grey coiled wig in the French style, silver buckles on his shoes, and is as far a cry from a Welsh country squire as he could possibly be. Presently, he is looking at Henry with an expression of abject fascination on his face.

‘And this is Penhelyg’s new doctor,’ he says, pumping Henry’s hand with more force than is entirely necessary. ‘What a pleasure!’

Angharad appears behind them, divesting Lady Selwyn of her cloak and gloves, and as she does Sir John’s gaze shifts to Linette, then back again.

‘Do you know you’re both exactly the same height?’

At her husband’s side, Lady Selwyn’s lips stretch into an insincere smile.

‘Linette, my dear. How charming you look,’ she says, and Linette suppresses a sigh.

So, it begins.

Over the years she has learnt to play her part, to curtsey and smile and pretend Lady Selwyn’s condescending comments do not bother her when they do; under Julian’s watchful gaze Linette finds herself politely tilting her head in thanks without missing a beat.

Lady Selwyn feigns a gasp. ‘Oh! You have flowers in your hair. What are they?’

‘Gorse, madam.’

‘How quaint! I,’ she says, tapping her own towering black hair that can be none other than a wig, ‘prefer something a little more regal. Citrine and diamonds, my dear. Are they not magnificent?’

Linette regards them. The jewels are pinned up high on the side of the wig, large baubles with dangling pear-shaped drops which – if Lady Selwyn were to move her head with any force – Linette is sure would fall off. The colour of champagne and starlight, they match perfectly the mustard-gold silk of her dress, the shining needlework on its fine hem.

‘Very beautiful, Lady Selwyn.’

Linette’s voice is flat, but the older woman’s satisfaction is nevertheless apparent.

‘A gift from my husband. He is always so unfailing generous.’

Henry clears his throat. ‘You’re very privileged indeed to receive such gifts, and I must say they suit you admirably. But if you’ll forgive me, madam, I think flowers suit Linette far more than jewels ever could.’

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