Page 4 of A Lady's Touch of Sin

A muscular man in his mid-30s leapt out from behind them and grabbed several suitcases, which one of the coach hands had set in a line behind Laura and Marta. Laura nearly leapt from her stance. This was surely the first time someone had actually waited on her, rather than the other way around.

**

Aunt Margaret, Uncle Everett, and cousin Ewan lived on a grand estate approximately a half-hour outside Central London, a county that allowed for the snooty response that one was “from” London, without any of the inner-city chaos.

As they rode, Aunt Margaret explained what had befallen her eldest daughter, Tatiana. The memory of Tatiana was brief in Marta’s mind. She was perhaps twenty or twenty-one at the time of Marta’s most previous visit, which meant that she was now twenty-seven or twenty-eight.

“She married when she was twenty-three, which was altogether appropriate,” Aunt Margaret recited, speaking as though some people had suggested Tatiana had married a bit too late for their or society’s liking.

“Who did she marry?” Marta asked. This was the sort of thing her mother would have liked her to ask.

“She married an earl, in fact!” Aunt Margaret said, altogether pleased with the question. “It was one of the more beautiful weddings I’ve ever attended. She’s a petite little thing, our Tatiana, and her earl towered over her throughout the ceremony. Their courting was quite swift. I remember I matched them in May, and by August, the engagement was set.” She beamed at Marta.

“So you’re a bit of a matchmaker,” Marta said, remembering what her mother had said about the upcoming courting season.

“Oh, it’s just precisely what I dream to be,” Aunt Margaret said. She seemed to glow with excitement. “I already have such a strategy for you, my darling niece. The niece from Austria! With all the beauty of the east and the Alps, and all the culture of England. You’ll do very nicely, I believe.”

Marta didn’t exactly enjoy this seeming comparison to things that were oft-traded, like cattle. But she forced her smile wider, reminding herself that this was her first day in a long string of days. She couldn’t very well draw herself obstinately out of the gate.

Obstinate cattle, out of the gate. The thought of it made her chuckle.

“What’s that, darling?” Aunt Margaret asked. Her eyebrow shot high on her forehead.

“Oh, nothing, Aunt Margaret. I’m simply pleased to be back in England. It’s been far too long.”

**

The carriage clucked along, through the picturesque village with its gorgeous old-world church, its steeple a bit crooked toward the sky, over cobblestones and mud roads and then all the way to the Thompson Estate, a place that rippled with Marta’s memories. As she stepped from the carriage, she felt as though she floated through a dream she’d had continually over the years. Perhaps on cue, due to some sort of act by God himself, the clouds parted over the large stone mansion and cast sunlight across it. The golden light reflected off the windows and across Laura’s gorgeous face. Laura looked as though she’d never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

“It’s entirely different to the mansions in Austria,” she said, her eyes like saucers. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What did she say?” Aunt Margaret asked.

“She really loves your mansion,” Marta said. “It’s quite different from back home in Austria.”

Aunt Margaret lifted her eyebrows. “My! I cannot imagine what it’s like. I’ve seen the occasional painting before, of course, but lately, the way your mother has described it in letters…” She shook her head, seemingly disinterested.

The stablehand carried their suitcases into the mansion ahead of them. At the door, a bald-headed butler pulled open the door and bowed low.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “Welcome to the Thompson Estate.”

They stepped into the elaborate foyer, lined with gorgeous old-world paintings of Marta’s relatives and Uncle Everett’s, as well. Everyone in the paintings looked rather forlorn and aghast and sallow, as though they’d lived very hard lives and had only paused for a brief moment to have their paintings done. Again, Laura seemed incredulous at anyone opening the door for her. She leaned again towards Marta’s ear and muttered, “They must know that I’m a servant, correct?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re guests just now,” she returned.

“So much German in this house!” Aunt Margaret said. This time, it seemed clear that she didn’t welcome it.

This caused a memory to flicker up in Marta’s mind. Years before, when she’d been a twelve-year-old visitor, her mother had forbidden her from speaking any German. This had been a bizarre time, as her mind flicked between English and German, and she wasn’t always clear which word would fly from her mouth on-command. Her mother’s watchful eyes and ears had caused her to snap her lips shut more than once, seconds before she uttered something auf Deutsch.

“Mother, they’ve only just arrived,” Ewan said. His words were reproachful, as though he understood precisely the sort of pressure Marta was under. He gestured out toward the hallway, which seemed to lead back towards the garden outside. “The clouds have cleared. Would you like to meet in the garden after you freshen up? I imagine dinner will be served rather soon.”

“We’re terribly hungry,” Marta said good-naturedly.

“Hungry,” Laura repeated, in English.

“Let me show you to your rooms,” the butler said, his voice booming.

“We’ll meet you shortly,” Marta said to Ewan, lending him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Marta had been given a grand room with a corner window that echoed back a beautiful view of the sweeping moors and the thick forest and the little river that snaked through the trees. The light spread out across the bed in a way that seemed almost planned, making the white of the top blanket almost blistering to look at. No, this bedroom didn’t feature a view of her Alps—but it was certainly generous. The butler placed her suitcases near the bed and said, “Now, I will show your maid her quarters.”

Laura disappeared with the butler. She cast back a frightened glance, but Marta spoke in German, “All will be well. Meet me in the garden in twenty minutes,” and Laura gave a firm nod.

The moment Laura disappeared, however, Marta’s heart sank into her belly. Exhaustion brimmed in every part of her body. She ached to slip beneath the covers of her brand-new, foreign bed and close her eyes for many, many hours.

But no. She was in England now. She had to play by the rules of this strange Auntie, a woman who seemed ill-suited to anything she didn’t fully understand.

Marta wondered how well that would play out. She imagined it would be interesting, to say the least.

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