“The houses go on forever,” Genevieve murmured in dejection. “Miles of them. It’ll be dark soon.”
“The end of a trip is always the longest part,” soothed Delia. “I’m sure we’re almost there.”
She spoke the truth, for they soon turned between great granite pilasters and heard the tall iron gates shriek open on corroded hinges. From there was only a short way to the house, where they pulled up as the last light left the sky. Delia and Genevieve alit to be greeted by Halpern, the butler, while the wagon continued around to the stable yard and the protection of the carriage house.
The interior of the house was scarcely less cold than the courtyard, each cavernous room as gloomy and lightless as a tomb. Not even Genevieve’s apartment, on an upper story toward the back, had any feeling of welcome. The dirty windows overlooked a weed-filled wilderness of garden, the drapes were stiff with dust, and the tiled stove was cold.
Delia had better luck in the rooms she would share with her husband on the ground floor, for they were kept cheerfully warm by the stoves in the adjacent kitchen. It was there that Delia brought Genevieve, to seat her in a chair before the fire and help her rub feeling back into her hands and feet while Halpern set people to fueling the tiled stove in her room, dusting out, sweeping up, warming the linens, and making up the bed.
“My Lady Marchioness,” he said, his brow beaded with cold sweat. “No one told me you were coming. Your father did not mention it.”
“Let it go,” murmured Genevieve. “Don’t apologize. I’m here now, so we’ll start from where we are.”
“Your Ladyship is very gracious.”
“My Ladyship is very tired,” she said, smiling at him. “Let’s not waste time on things not said or done, Halpern. Let’s do what we can to make ourselves comfortable.”
“And where’s the Marshal?” Delia demanded angrily of her John. “Here’s Jenny, frozen half solid, and not even a fire in her room.”
“Gone hunting, so he said,” muttered John. “And he didn’t tell us you’d be coming today. Or at all! He depends on others to do his day-to-day thinking for him, he does, and the one who does it lately, his equerry, that Colonel, he’s not taken up residency here, not yet.”
When the Marshal returned a day or so later, having been invited to hunt stag with a party from the court, he was surprised to find the new arrivals still in confusion as they tried to settle in.
“Ha,” he said to Genevieve, when she confessed that things were not yet in order. “I’ve set up a camp for a thousand men with less fuss than this.” He then proceeded to unsettle the entire menage even further by announcing their schedule for the near future: several formal dinners, including one only ten days hence, innumerable courtesy calls with Genevieve over the next several days, attending a command performance of the Royal Orchestra, and an ambitious program of familiarization with the city. Since the cook was newly hired and did not have the kitchen yet to her liking and since the place itself needed a good deal of work before welcoming guests, Genevieve, as putative mistress of this establishment, was more than merely set back.
“I’ve never done any such thing,” she cried to Delia. “At home, Father never entertained! Oh, a few old friends, but that was different. I’ve learned how at school, I’m quite competent to handle it, given time and a certain local knowledge he has given me no time to learn! Where does one hire temporary help? This house, Delia. It’s filthy! Some of the draperies are in rags!”
Delia stood with her hands on her hips and her lower lip thrust out, as she did when in deep thought. “There’s nothing for it, my lady, but do it somehow. Have you friends here from among the ladies you knew at school? Any at all?”
There probably were acquaintances in Havenor, though she did not know for sure. At the moment Genevieve could think of only one person she knew to be in the town and was inclined to trust, though she hesitated to call him her friend. “I have met Father’s equerry, Colonel Aufors Leys. He struck me as the kind of person who would do everything he could to be helpful. Though he is expected to move into this house at some point, he is now in rooms at an inn, though I’ve no idea . . . No, wait. I saw Father writing it down.”