Scandal at the Dower House by Sally James Page A

shy of strangers, and occasionally Catarina felt a twinge of apprehension in case she turned out to be like her mother.
    ‘This little one is Maria de Freitas,’ Catarina said, ‘and Clarice, her nurse. She is the child of a cousin, who died when she was born, and as her father had been killed in a hunting accident the poor thing was orphaned. Her father’s mother was English,’ she added, thinking that this was the only partly truthful thing she was saying, ‘so I have taken her in. We can turn the main guest room and dressing room into a nursery, since the Dower House is not supplied with one.’
    ‘No, my lady. I will see to it at once.’
    ‘Is there a fire there?’
    ‘Yes. We expected Miss Joanna to be with you.’
    Catarina had decided it was too difficult to explain in a letter. Besides, she had in some way felt that if she were present when people were told of Joanna’s marriage, there would be less speculation. She took a deep breath.
    ‘While we were staying in Lisbon Joanna met a Brazilian gentleman, and she has married him and gone with him to Brazil. It will probably be some years before we see her again.’
    If ever, she added to herself. Unless this romance is also a disaster and Joanna runs back to me.
    Staines was imperturbable. ‘Would Miss Clarice care to bring the little one upstairs? I will see that she has all she needs, and perhaps you, my lady, would prefer to have supper on a tray here in the library, in front of the fire? It is warmer here than in the dining parlour.’
    ‘That would be perfect. But not a big meal. I’m sure Cook will know exactly what I need.’
    ‘Yes, my lady,’ Staines said, and turned away. He seemed about to say something else, but shook his head slightly, then indicated to Clarice to follow him.
    Catarina relaxed. She was home, Staines was in charge, and she could trust him to do all that was necessary. She wanted to know what was happening at the Grange, but that could wait until tomorrow, until she had slept in her own bed once more, and recovered from the journey.
    * * * *
    Perhaps it was being back at Marshington, Catarina thought, that induced dreams of Lord Brooke. She blushed as she recalled some of the images which had invaded her sleep. She could still remember everything about him, and he had seemed so real, as though he had been in the room with her.
    This was strange. She had thought little about him while she had been away, but she had been preoccupied with so much else during the past few months. She had not dreamed of Walter once.
    Before descending the stairs for breakfast she went to see how Clarice was settling in, and whether Maria was content. She found her housemaid Liza, who had just brought up a tray for Clarice’s breakfast, cooing over the baby.
    ‘Oh, my lady, she’s beautiful! She’s got such lovely big eyes, a sort of hazel colour. Were they blue when she was born? They say they turn darker. Rosa will be so envious of this lovely hair. It’s so dark, and thick, and curly. Her own little one has only a few strands of fair hair.’
    ‘Rosa has a baby already?’
    Her maid had been married just before they left for Portugal.
    Liza giggled. ‘A honeymoon baby! I told Rosa it was as well it didn’t come a couple of months early. My lady, your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. Would you like a tray, or will you come down?’
    ‘I’ll come down, thank you.’
    She must find a new maid to take Rosa’s place as soon as possible, so that Liza did not have that work to do as well as her own. She’d write to the Bristol Registry offices today.
    Clarice said she was being well looked after, had all she needed, and although she was learning some English from Catarina, she found it impossible to understand what Liza said.
    Catarina laughed. ‘She has a local accent. I’m afraid you’ll find most of the people round here speak in the same way. But you will soon begin to understand. You have a quick ear, and have already