Part 25 (1/2)

”I am sure he could,” said Xanthia. ”What sort of business is Mrs. Hayden-Worth's father in?”

”Oh, I cannot recall.” Lady Nash made a vague gesture with her hand. ”Metals, perhaps? Steel or iron or smelts or some such thing.”

”Smelts are fish, Mamma,” said Phaedra.

”Perhaps he smelts iron,” Phoebe suggested. ”One can do that, I think-whatever it means.”

Phaedra shrugged. ”Well, in any case, he has factories,” she said. ”Pots of them.”

”Yes, in Connecticut,” said Lady Nash, undeterred. ”Or is it Ma.s.sachusetts?”

The girls looked at one another and shrugged. Clearly the mysterious industrialist was not a topic of much interest at Brierwood. ”So she will go from Southampton to where?” asked Xanthia. ”Calais?”

”I am not quite sure,” said Lady Nash vaguely. ”She has friends everywhere.”

”I see.” Xanthia reached for another biscuit, but remembered the pink cherub on her ceiling. It was odd, really. She had never before given much thought to keeping her figure.

Lady Nash was still rattling on about Mrs. Hayden-Worth's friends. ”Of course, I told Jenny that it was all very well to have friends,” she was saying. ”But some of them, I fear, are a little racy. And they do spend an awful lot of money on clothes, and on frightfully lavish entertainments.”

”Oh, I am sure the well eventually runs dry for everyone,” remarked Lady Phaedra. ”Even for rich American industrialists.”

”Not for Jenny's papa,” said her sister. ”He spoils her shamelessly.”

Lady Nash scolded her daughters for gossiping, and returned to the topic of her dinner party. Lady Phaedra was required to invoke the weather-warning on but four or five more occasions, and eventually, tea was concluded.

”Oh, dear!” said Lady Nash as they rose. ”Nash and Tony still have not come, have they?”

”Yes, Mamma, they slipped in amidst your recitation of the dinner menus for the next five days,” said Lady Phaedra dryly. ”You simply did not notice.”

”Oh, you wicked girl!” Lady Nash frowned disapprovingly. ”They did no such thing-oh! The dinner menu!”

”What now?” said Lady Phaedra.

”I forgot to tell Cook we were to have the asparagus, not the sprouts!” Lady Nash had clasped a hand to her forehead theatrically. ”Nash does quite loathe sprouts. He really will never forgive me.”

”Oh, Lord, it will be out on the street for us!” said Phoebe. ”Phae, get your gypsy dress and your tambourine. We shall have to go down to the village and sing for our supper.”

Phaedra set a hand on her mother's shoulder. ”Just go downstairs, Mamma, and tell Cook to put the sprouts back until Sat.u.r.day,” she said patiently. ”Sprouts will keep nicely. At your birthday dinner, we shall have so much to choose from, Nash will never notice.”

Lady Nash was nodding intently. ”Yes, quite so, quite so,” she said. ”My dear Miss Neville, will you excuse me? Phaedra will show you back to your room. I will go down to the kitchens.”

They parted company near the grand staircase, Lady Phaedra at Xanthia's side.

”Well, that was interesting,” said Xanthia as they started up the steps together.

Lady Phaedra laughed. ”It always is,” she said. ”Mamma is a dear, but she never stops talking.”

”I find her most gracious,” said Xanthia. ”But I do have one burning question, Lady Phaedra.”

Lady Phaedra shot her a quizzical look. ”Yes?”

”Just what color is the celsiana rose?”

The young lady grinned. ”Oh, that!” she said. ”Your brother's impressive horticultural abilities aside, I fear the damascena celsiana is always pale pink.”

Xanthia laughed and looped her arm through Lady Phaedra's. ”My dear, that is so cruel,” she answered. ”I think you must share your brother's black humor.”

”Well, you know what they say,” answered Phaedra equivocally. ”A sharp wit is a dangerous weapon.”

By the time they reached Xanthia's suite, she and Phaedra were laughing like old friends. Phaedra went directly to the door which opened onto Xanthia's bedchamber, and threw it open. ”Ugh!” she said, recoiling in disgust. ”That smell must be driving you mad!”

Xanthia followed her inside, and sniffed. The musky scent, which had been barely discernible upon Xanthia's arrival, was indeed powerful now. The late-day sun was streaming through the wide bank of windows, warming the air. Phaedra sneezed violently and headed straight for the windows.

”I am not terribly bothered by the scent,” Xanthia rea.s.sured her.

Phaedra, apparently, did not agree. She was already throwing up the sashes. ”Ugh!” she said again, straining at one of the windows. ”I cannot bear it.”

Xanthia went to help her. ”What is it?”

”Nutmeg mace,” she answered as the sash gave, and went rumbling up. ”And some sort of musk, I think.”

”It certainly is unusual,” Xanthia remarked.

Phaedra was looking about the room as if she suspected vermin. She headed straight to the heavy mahogany wardrobe, threw open both doors, and pushed Xanthia's gowns aside. ”Pardon my familiarity, Miss Neville, but you will thank me for this.”

”By all means,” murmured Xanthia, looking on.

Her nimble fingers went sorting through the wardrobe's contents. ”Ah-ha!” Phaedra finally said, turning around. A round latticed ball on a pink ribbon dangled from the tip of her forefinger.

”What is it?” asked Xanthia. ”Some sort of pomander?”

”One of Jenny's,” said Phaedra in a put-upon voice. ”She gets the scent in Paris. 'Tis bad enough she wafts it all over the house, but I wish she would not leave these lying about after she's gone. I think it is disgusting.” As if for emphasis, she sneezed again.

”Oh, dear,” said Xanthia. ”I hope I did not take Mrs. Hayden-Worth's room?”

Phaedra hesitated. ”No, she and Tony have a large bedchamber attached to his private study in the east wing,” she said. ”But Jenny often takes this one. She says she likes to see the front gardens.”

”Oh, dear,” said Xanthia again. ”I should be happy to move elsewhere.”

Phaedra's expression darkened. ”Well, it's not your problem, I daresay, if she doesn't wish to sleep with her husband.”

Xanthia scarcely knew what to say. ”I am sure, Lady Phaedra, that it is not my business, either,” she managed.

But the girl behaved as if Xanthia had not spoken. ”Besides, Jenny will be away for a week, at least,” she went on. ”She finds Mamma's friends dull. And as to Nash-well, let us just say that he and Jenny are both possessed of strong personalities. I am not surprised she found an excuse to go away.”

Phaedra's intimations precisely matched Xanthia's impression of Mrs. Hayden-Worth, but she said nothing. She decided it was prudent to change the subject. ”Well, so long as we have the wardrobe open, come have a look, Lady Phaedra, at my favorite gown,” she said. ”You must tell me if you think it will do for Sat.u.r.day's dinner party.”