Page 89 of The Mistletoe Countess
I do prefer your brand of friendliness. I must say it’s my favorite kind, and I hope you will continue to be friendly with me as often as you like. Very friendly. Often.
Good heavens, he was going to attack the poor girl as soon as he crossed the threshold of Havensbrooke!
Do have a marvelous time among the solicitors and architects you meet. Dear me, that doesn’t sound exciting at all, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it memorable.
I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, my dear Lord Astley. My lips await your steadfast attentions.
Your Grace
Chapter Twenty-Four
The ghost didn’t appear again the next evening, though Grace searched until almost one o’clock. Aunt Lavenia joined Grace for morning tea, providing a wonderful opportunity for Grace to divulge the discovery of her ghost with someone who wouldn’t become too concerned about her mental faculties.
Before leaving, Lavenia made a short visit to Lady Moriah, returning much sadder than when she’d walked up the stairs.
“Her heart is so cold, dear Grace. If anyone could thaw her, perhaps you could,” Aunt Lavenia whispered, walking to the door. “How desperately she needs the warmth of love.”
As Grace waved goodbye to Lavenia, guilt nudged at the corners of her heart. She’d made every effort to avoid her mother-in-law over the past two days, but was Lavenia right? Did God place Grace at Havensbrooke for more than just Frederick, but his mother too?
Grace’s morning Bible reading also nudged her spirit about doing good and praying for those “that hate you…and despitefully use you.” Andspitefulcertainly fit the dowager. Grace really ought to stop referring to Lady Moriah asthe dowagerin her mind when she felt particularly cross with the woman. It didn’t encourage kindness at all.
She sighed and peered heavenward as she took the steps to the south wing.
Grace’s knock was met by her mother-in-law grousing, “Come in.” Now that Grace knew a little more about her mother-in-law, she noticed the tattered brocade wallpaper and the photographs of a younger Moriah with her husband, a room as lonely and weathered as the woman occupying it.
“What do you want?”
Well, perhaps Lady Moriah was more cantankerous than lonely.
Grace tempered her scowl with a smile and stepped farther into the room. “I heard you weren’t feeling well this morning, so I wondered if you might like some company.”
“From you?” The woman’s face contorted. “I can barely stand the thought of you, let alone listen to your American accent.”
Grace’s hand clenched at her side, and she looked away, replaying one of the verses about love through her mind. Her gaze landed on the excellent grand piano with sheet music propped and ready. “Do you play?”
“Not in years.” She tipped up her chin. “I used to be quite excellent, however.”
Well, either Lady Moriahdidplay recently or cared so much for the instrument that she kept it polished and open. A weakness Grace wasn’t too proud to exploit for kindness’ sake. Surely God wouldn’t mind.
“I’ve played since I was seven. I imagine I could play any piece you used to play.”
A sound like a growl came from the woman. “I performed for hundreds by the time I was your age.”
Ah, but she didn’t say no. Grace stepped toward the piano. “Then I imagine you could give me excellent guidance on becoming a better pianist, assuming you remember.”
“Of course I remember.” The woman slammed her palm down on her blanket-covered lap. “I may be sick, but my mind is still intact.” She waved her hand toward the piano. “Brahms’s Rhapsody in D Minor is on the piano—a less technical piece, so perhaps you can play it, if you start slowly.”
Grace turned her head so that Lady Moriah couldn’t see her eye roll. “I shall do my best.”
She’d played this piece before, but not under such scrutiny. Grace gave it her all, pouring her own little magic into the music with an added trill here and an extra note there.
“Your technique could use a firm hand, but you do not play poorly, though I doubt you are prepared for some of Liszt’s work.”
Grace decided then and there she was going to ignore every rude thing the dowager countess said, and if it meant she wouldn’t remember one word of the conversation, so be it. “I’ll be happy to grow under your tutelage.”
The woman’s beady eyes examined Grace’s face, almost as if they wished to push her down a few inches in height. “You do not understand your place at all, do you?”
“As wife to your son?”
