attempted to extract one hand from Millie's but her sisters fingers tightened.
Drawing a steadying breath Emily prepared to negotiate the front steps without treading on her hem. Somehow she managed to lift her dress a little with her finger tips, in spite of her sisters, and she prayed that she would not fall flat on her face. All was well until the last two steps when a formidable, grey-haired figure, stepped out and bowed deeply.
His sudden appearance startled the already nervous girls and they both stepped backwards, attempting to hide themselves behind Emily's slender frame, jerking her arms and dislodging her tenuous grip on her skirt. The flimsy stuff of her dress swayed freely and with her next step she trapped it under her boot. Unable to free her hands to balance, Emily fell forward, taking both girls with her, to land in an ignominious heap at the feet of the autocratic butler, Penfold.
Unaware that her humiliation was being observed from the gallery that overlooked the enormous marble floored Grand Hall, Emily disentangled herself from her sisters and staggered to her feet. Not one of the watching servants had stepped forward to assist them and of her mother was no sign. She had vanished into the interior intent on re-establishing herself as her father's 'darling girl'.
The row of footman remained as statues, faces expressionless, watching her smooth down her dress. 'Are you hurt, Serena, sweetheart? Did I tread on your hand?'
'No, I 'm fine, thank you, Emily,' Serena whispered.
'I'm unhurt as well, thank you,' Amelia's voice was thread-thin in the silence. Emily's embarrassment vanished. What sort of an establishment was this, which treated guests so insolently?
She stiffened and met the haughty stare of Penfold. It was his eyes that dropped first. He flushed and bowed again. This time his action was deferential. 'Miss Gibson, Miss Amelia and Miss Serena, welcome to Westerham. His Lordship is waiting to greet you in the Green with drawing-room, if you will kindly follow me.'
Emily was not having this. She was not going to be summoned like a servant before being allowed to recover from her travels. 'We will be shown to our rooms, now, if you please. I shall attend on his lordship when we are recovered from our journey.' She raised an eyebrow and Penfold knew he had met his match.
'Very well, Miss Gibson.' He snapped a finger and two footman stepped forward. 'Show Miss Gibson, and Miss Amelia and Miss Serena to their apartments.'
He bowed again to Emily. 'If you would like to ring when you are ready, Miss Gibson? I shall send someone to escort you down.'
Emily nodded, but did not deign to reply. Holding her torn skirt firmly in one hand, the other resting on the polished banister, Emily followed the footman. Her sisters, following her lead, straightened their backs, held their heads high and marched up the stairs, side by side, showing their solidarity and support.
The footman led them up two flights and along the corridor halting outside a pair of double doors. He opened these and, still without a word being spoken, he bowed them into their new home. Emily sailed into the room. She waited until she heard the doors click shut behind them before releasing her breath. She stared, eyes wide and her mouth open.
'Look at this, girls; our sitting-room is bigger than the drawing room at Glebe House.'
'Do you think these rugs are Persian, Em? Are we allowed to walk on them?'
Emily laughed. 'Of course we are, you goose. They would not be on the floor otherwise.' The private sitting-room, with elegant chaise-longues and delicate gilt chairs was everything it should be. The two doors at the far end opened into a pair of matching bed chambers.
Serena ran forwards eager to explore. 'Can Millie and I share this one, Em? I love the rose-pink of the bed drapes. Do you see, it matches the curtains?'
Emily followed the girls around the room, exclaiming when expected, at the opulence of its appointments, but her
Drawing a steadying breath Emily prepared to negotiate the front steps without treading on her hem. Somehow she managed to lift her dress a little with her finger tips, in spite of her sisters, and she prayed that she would not fall flat on her face. All was well until the last two steps when a formidable, grey-haired figure, stepped out and bowed deeply.
His sudden appearance startled the already nervous girls and they both stepped backwards, attempting to hide themselves behind Emily's slender frame, jerking her arms and dislodging her tenuous grip on her skirt. The flimsy stuff of her dress swayed freely and with her next step she trapped it under her boot. Unable to free her hands to balance, Emily fell forward, taking both girls with her, to land in an ignominious heap at the feet of the autocratic butler, Penfold.
Unaware that her humiliation was being observed from the gallery that overlooked the enormous marble floored Grand Hall, Emily disentangled herself from her sisters and staggered to her feet. Not one of the watching servants had stepped forward to assist them and of her mother was no sign. She had vanished into the interior intent on re-establishing herself as her father's 'darling girl'.
The row of footman remained as statues, faces expressionless, watching her smooth down her dress. 'Are you hurt, Serena, sweetheart? Did I tread on your hand?'
'No, I 'm fine, thank you, Emily,' Serena whispered.
'I'm unhurt as well, thank you,' Amelia's voice was thread-thin in the silence. Emily's embarrassment vanished. What sort of an establishment was this, which treated guests so insolently?
She stiffened and met the haughty stare of Penfold. It was his eyes that dropped first. He flushed and bowed again. This time his action was deferential. 'Miss Gibson, Miss Amelia and Miss Serena, welcome to Westerham. His Lordship is waiting to greet you in the Green with drawing-room, if you will kindly follow me.'
Emily was not having this. She was not going to be summoned like a servant before being allowed to recover from her travels. 'We will be shown to our rooms, now, if you please. I shall attend on his lordship when we are recovered from our journey.' She raised an eyebrow and Penfold knew he had met his match.
'Very well, Miss Gibson.' He snapped a finger and two footman stepped forward. 'Show Miss Gibson, and Miss Amelia and Miss Serena to their apartments.'
He bowed again to Emily. 'If you would like to ring when you are ready, Miss Gibson? I shall send someone to escort you down.'
Emily nodded, but did not deign to reply. Holding her torn skirt firmly in one hand, the other resting on the polished banister, Emily followed the footman. Her sisters, following her lead, straightened their backs, held their heads high and marched up the stairs, side by side, showing their solidarity and support.
The footman led them up two flights and along the corridor halting outside a pair of double doors. He opened these and, still without a word being spoken, he bowed them into their new home. Emily sailed into the room. She waited until she heard the doors click shut behind them before releasing her breath. She stared, eyes wide and her mouth open.
'Look at this, girls; our sitting-room is bigger than the drawing room at Glebe House.'
'Do you think these rugs are Persian, Em? Are we allowed to walk on them?'
Emily laughed. 'Of course we are, you goose. They would not be on the floor otherwise.' The private sitting-room, with elegant chaise-longues and delicate gilt chairs was everything it should be. The two doors at the far end opened into a pair of matching bed chambers.
Serena ran forwards eager to explore. 'Can Millie and I share this one, Em? I love the rose-pink of the bed drapes. Do you see, it matches the curtains?'
Emily followed the girls around the room, exclaiming when expected, at the opulence of its appointments, but her
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