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nodded. “I think so…I have travelled
such a long way…Perhaps I am a little fatigued…that is all.”
    Mr. James cocked an eyebrow. “Well, if
you’re sure. It’s not much farther.” He then turned and continued
on down the corridor without glancing back.
    Elizabeth hurried to keep up, but was
relieved that the footman-cum-butler was as good as his word.
Within a short space of time, he ushered her into another vast room
that appeared to be a library. She paused on the threshold,
astounded by the magnificent proportions and opulence of the room.
She hadn’t expected such grandeur considering the starkness of the
Great Hall—the sections she had been able to see at any rate.
    A large fire roared in an enormous fireplace
that was surrounded by a black marble mantelpiece, elaborately
carved with fluted columns, scrollwork and motifs of all manner of
wild creatures—lions, stags and eagles. On a sumptuous Turkish
carpet before the hearth, lay two massive deerhounds; they blinked
at her sleepily before lowering their heads back onto their paws,
clearly disinterested in her arrival.
    The room was relatively well-lit with
strategically placed lamps and wrought-iron candelabra that held
clusters of fat, beeswax candles. By their light, Elizabeth could
see that the library had two levels; towering bookshelves covered
two of the walls on the lower level where she had entered, whilst
the upper level was comprised of shelves entirely. Heavy,
Jacobean-style side tables in dark oak, and armchairs upholstered
in dark brown leather or gold and burgundy damask, were
strategically arranged around the hearth and other places about the
room.
    Directly opposite to where she stood was a
solid oak desk, also elaborately carved. A tapestry of a hunting
scene hung directly behind it. On either side of the desk, thick
curtains of burgundy velvet framed wide, arched mullioned windows
that were set in deeply recessed embrasures. All she could see
beyond the diamond-shaped panes at this moment was inky blackness,
although she could just detect the muted pounding of waves. She
imagined that during the day, the windows would look out across the
sea.
    Mr. James marched in and placed the lamp on
the desk, then turned to scowl at her. “Why are you hovering there?
You’re not afraid of the dogs, are you? The last governess that was
here—Miss Lark, I think her name was, or maybe it was Miss
Goose—turned tail and ran when she saw them.”
    Steadfastly refusing to rise to this man’s
bait again, Elizabeth willed herself not to scowl back. “N-not at
all Mr. James. I quite like d-dogs. It’s just that I am still
soaking wet, and I do not think Lord Rothsburgh would appreciate it
if I drenched his f-fine carpets.”
    “Nonsense. You’re obviously freezing.” He
moved across the room to a leather settee by the fire, and held up
a blanket of green, dark blue, and black patterned tartan. “Why
don’t you remove your bonnet and pelisse then sit before the fire
with something warm and dry around you? I swear you are turning
blue as we speak.”
    Elizabeth gritted her teeth to stop them
chattering and undid the bonnet’s ribbons at her throat, before
unbuttoning her pelisse. She dropped both water-logged items onto
the flags outside the library door, then with as much dignity as
she could muster, crossed to the hearth and took the proffered
blanket. She was, to her dismay, icily cold and shivering
uncontrollably.
    Mr. James frowned at her. “Sit down, Mrs.
Eliott. I will fetch you some tea and summon the marquess. He won’t
be long.”
    She placed her damp reticule beside her and
perched on the edge of the settee before wrapping the blanket about
her shoulders. “Th-thank-you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    As soon as the library door snicked shut,
Elizabeth let herself relax against the back of the chair. Heavens,
she felt decidedly unwell. Her head throbbed and her throat felt
raw. She was ill, there was no denying it. But how in God’s