And if he was such a hermit, why had he bothered to write her back? He had worked just as hard as she had to perpetuate their correspondence. Not to mention his proposal. If he hadn’t wanted company, he had no business inviting her here.
She took a few deep breaths of the misty air and then forced herself to stand up straight. She wasn’t certain what she was expected to do with herself all day. She’d taken a nap already; exhaustion had quickly won out over misery. But no one had come by to inform her of lunch or of any other plans that might extend to her as a houseguest.
If she stayed here, in this slightly drab and drafty room, she was going to go mad. Or at the very least cry herself into oblivion, which was something she did not tolerate in others, so the thought of doing it herself was horrifying.
There was no reason she couldn’t explore the house a bit, was there? And maybe she could find herself some food along the way. She’d eaten all four muffins on the tea tray this morning, all with as much butter and marmalade as she could politely slather on, but she was still famished. At this point she thought she might be willing to commit violence for a ham sandwich.
She changed her clothing, donning a dress of peach muslin that was pretty and feminine without being too frilly. And most importantly, it was easy to get on and off, surely a critical factor when one had run from home without a lady’s maid.
A quick glance in the mirror told her that she looked presentable, if no picture of ravishing beauty, and so she stepped out into the hall.
Only to be immediately confronted by the eight-year-old Crane twins, looking very much as if they’d been lying in wait for hours.
“Good afternoon,” Eloise said, waiting for them to come to their feet. “How nice of you to greet me.”
“We’re not here to greet you,” Amanda blurted out, grunting when Oliver elbowed her in the ribs.
“You’re not?” Eloise asked, trying to sound surprised. “Are you here, then, to show me to the dining room? I’m quite hungry, I must say.”
“No,” Oliver said, crossing his arms.
“Not even that?” Eloise mused. “Let me guess. You’re here to take me to your room and show me your toys.”
“No,” they said, in unison.
“Then it must be to take me on a tour of the house. It’s quite large and I might lose my way.”
“No.”
“No? You wouldn’t want me to lose my way, would you?”
“No,” Amanda said. “I mean yes!”
Eloise feigned incomprehension. “You want me to lose my way?”
Amanda nodded. Oliver just tightened his arms across his chest and speared her with a sullen stare.
“Hmmm. That’s interesting, but it hardly explains your presence right here outside my door, does it? I’m not likely to get lost in the company of you two.”
Their lips parted in befuddled surprise.
“You do know your way around the house, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Oliver grunted, followed by Amanda’s, “We’re not babies.”
“No, I can see that,” Eloise said with a thoughtful nod. “Babies wouldn’t be allowed to wait by themselves outside my door, after all. They’d be quite busy with nappies and bottles and the like.”
They had nothing to add to that.
“Does your father know you’re here?”
“He’s busy.”
“Very busy.”
“He’s a very busy man.”
“Much too busy for you.”
Eloise watched and listened with interest as the twins shot off their lightning-fast statements, falling all over themselves to demonstrate how busy Sir Phillip was.
“So what you’re telling me,” Eloise said, “is that your father is busy.”
They stared at her, momentarily dumbfounded by her calm retelling of the facts, then nodded.
“But that still doesn’t explain your presence,” Eloise mused. “Because I don’t think your father sent you here in his stead. . . .” She waited until they shook their heads in the negative, then added, “Unless . . . I know!” she said in an excited voice, allowing herself a mental smile over her cleverness. She had nine nephews and nieces. She knew exactly how to talk to children. “You’re here to tell me you have magical powers and can predict the weather.”
“No,” they said, but Eloise heard a giggle.
“No? That’s a shame, because this constant drizzle is miserable, don’t you think?”
“No,” Amanda said, quite forcefully. “Father likes the rain, and so do we.”
“He likes the rain?” Eloise asked in surprise. “How very odd.”
“No, it’s not,” Oliver replied, his stance defensive. “My father isn’t odd. He’s perfect. Don’t say mean things about him.”
“I didn’t,” Eloise replied, wondering what on earth was going on now. At first she’d merely thought the twins were here to frighten her away. Presumably, they had heard that their father was thinking of marrying her and wanted no part of a stepmother, especially given the stories Eloise had been told by the housemaid of the succession of poor, abused governesses who had come and gone.
But if that were the simple truth, wouldn’t they want her to think there was something wrong with Sir Phillip? If they wanted her gone, wouldn’t they be trying to convince her that he would be a terrible candidate for marriage?
“I assure you, I harbor no ill will toward any of you,” Eloise said. “In fact, I barely know your father.”