necessary to lengthen her stride uncomfortably, for he did not shorten his.
She took only a glance at the building she was entering. It was a sprawling red brick place, more wide than high. The lengthening shadows of evening emphasized the unkempt condition of both grounds and house. Though there were no Gothic windows or brooding elms, it struck Grace as the proper setting for a Gothic novel. The brick was not perishing, but dusty windows and overgrown grass caused the proper air of brooding menace.
The servant who showed them in was a groom masquerading as a butler and looked it. His rough manner and ill-fitting jacket suited the house, however. Lady Healy had come to a place that had been standing empty for some time, and she had only her own few servants to tend to it.
“ You ’ d be his lordship, ” the servant said. “ Come in, then. She ’ s been waiting forever. ” He sounded put upon as he pointed a peremptory and not very clean finger toward a lighted saloon.
It was in this ghastly Purple Saloon, large and dingy, with the fading sun filtering through dusty glass and dispirited lace curtains, that Grace had her first view of her new grandmother. Whewett had called the dame old, leading her to expect a decrepit little gray-haired lady with a humped back.
What stood glaring at her was a positive grenadier with jet black hair, heavy black brows, a mannish hooked nose, and a scowl. She wore a stylish black silk gown trimmed with bugle beads, while her bodice sparkled with diamonds. The gnarled fingers clutching a blackthorn walking stick were cluttered with rings.
“ About time you got here! ” was the harridan ’ s opening salvo, fired off in a rough voice. “ Well, come into the light, child, and let us have a look at you. ”
Grace felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to turn and flee out the front door. She clung to Whewett ’ s arm, till he gave her a nudge forward into the puddle of light emanating from a table lamp. With her clear brown eyes goggling and her lip fallen a little open in fright, she looked young enough that Whewett had no fear of instant disclosure.
“ Humph. Turn around, ” the dame ordered. In instant obedience, Grace turned slowly. “ She didn ’ t get the Brougham looks, more ’ s the pity. Nor yours, either, Whewett. Takes after her maternal grandfather — well, after her mama, if it comes to that. Dumpy little thing. Mousy hair, no countenance. I hope you ain ’ t a saucy chit, are you? ”
“ N-no, ma ’ am, ” Grace answered in a cowed voice.
“ Not a blancmanger, either. I have no use for blancmangers. Do you stand up for yourself, eh? ”
“ Yes, ma ’ am, ” Grace answered, turning an appealing eye to Whewett, who threw himself into the breach.
“ Grandma, you have not made me welcome. Do I not get a kiss after my trip to see you? ” He stepped forward for the greeting.
“ Ha. You ought to be able to do better than an old relict like me. Come here and kiss me, then, if you insist. ” She turned her cheek to receive the kiss, but did not return it. Her main interest was still on Grace.
“ How about you, Augusta? Have you got a kiss for your old grandmother? ”
Grace dutifully stood on tiptoe and reached up to do her duty. As the initial shock of the meeting subsided, Grace noticed that at close range the lady was indeed ancient. From pride in her appearance perhaps, she had placed herself in a dim light, but her cheeks were etched with lines, while those eyes that looked like coals from across the room were bleared with age. Her whole aspect was forbidding.
Grace felt a start of terror when the old woman put both arms around her and hugged her. She felt as though she had been snatched up by an eagle and felt, too, an instinctive urge to fight free. But this was supposed to be her beloved grandmother. With a conscious effort of will, she stood still and even returned the embrace.
“ There! You ain ’ t afraid of me, are you? ” the old lady
She took only a glance at the building she was entering. It was a sprawling red brick place, more wide than high. The lengthening shadows of evening emphasized the unkempt condition of both grounds and house. Though there were no Gothic windows or brooding elms, it struck Grace as the proper setting for a Gothic novel. The brick was not perishing, but dusty windows and overgrown grass caused the proper air of brooding menace.
The servant who showed them in was a groom masquerading as a butler and looked it. His rough manner and ill-fitting jacket suited the house, however. Lady Healy had come to a place that had been standing empty for some time, and she had only her own few servants to tend to it.
“ You ’ d be his lordship, ” the servant said. “ Come in, then. She ’ s been waiting forever. ” He sounded put upon as he pointed a peremptory and not very clean finger toward a lighted saloon.
It was in this ghastly Purple Saloon, large and dingy, with the fading sun filtering through dusty glass and dispirited lace curtains, that Grace had her first view of her new grandmother. Whewett had called the dame old, leading her to expect a decrepit little gray-haired lady with a humped back.
What stood glaring at her was a positive grenadier with jet black hair, heavy black brows, a mannish hooked nose, and a scowl. She wore a stylish black silk gown trimmed with bugle beads, while her bodice sparkled with diamonds. The gnarled fingers clutching a blackthorn walking stick were cluttered with rings.
“ About time you got here! ” was the harridan ’ s opening salvo, fired off in a rough voice. “ Well, come into the light, child, and let us have a look at you. ”
Grace felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to turn and flee out the front door. She clung to Whewett ’ s arm, till he gave her a nudge forward into the puddle of light emanating from a table lamp. With her clear brown eyes goggling and her lip fallen a little open in fright, she looked young enough that Whewett had no fear of instant disclosure.
“ Humph. Turn around, ” the dame ordered. In instant obedience, Grace turned slowly. “ She didn ’ t get the Brougham looks, more ’ s the pity. Nor yours, either, Whewett. Takes after her maternal grandfather — well, after her mama, if it comes to that. Dumpy little thing. Mousy hair, no countenance. I hope you ain ’ t a saucy chit, are you? ”
“ N-no, ma ’ am, ” Grace answered in a cowed voice.
“ Not a blancmanger, either. I have no use for blancmangers. Do you stand up for yourself, eh? ”
“ Yes, ma ’ am, ” Grace answered, turning an appealing eye to Whewett, who threw himself into the breach.
“ Grandma, you have not made me welcome. Do I not get a kiss after my trip to see you? ” He stepped forward for the greeting.
“ Ha. You ought to be able to do better than an old relict like me. Come here and kiss me, then, if you insist. ” She turned her cheek to receive the kiss, but did not return it. Her main interest was still on Grace.
“ How about you, Augusta? Have you got a kiss for your old grandmother? ”
Grace dutifully stood on tiptoe and reached up to do her duty. As the initial shock of the meeting subsided, Grace noticed that at close range the lady was indeed ancient. From pride in her appearance perhaps, she had placed herself in a dim light, but her cheeks were etched with lines, while those eyes that looked like coals from across the room were bleared with age. Her whole aspect was forbidding.
Grace felt a start of terror when the old woman put both arms around her and hugged her. She felt as though she had been snatched up by an eagle and felt, too, an instinctive urge to fight free. But this was supposed to be her beloved grandmother. With a conscious effort of will, she stood still and even returned the embrace.
“ There! You ain ’ t afraid of me, are you? ” the old lady
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