William Monk 05 - The Sins of the Wolf

gown and dinner gown—could hardly travel with less than at least three large cases, if not more. Petticoats, chemises, corsetry, stockings and shoes would require one alone.
    “You won’t need to tend to any clothes,” Nora said with proprietary pride. “I’ll take care of all of that. There’s a list written out of everything, and there’ll be someone at Miss Griselda’s to unpack. All you might have to do is dress Mrs. Farraline’s hair for her in the morning. Can you do that?”
    “Yes, certainly.”
    “Good. Then that’s all I can show you.” A slight frown shadowed her face.
    “Is there something else?” Hester asked.
    “No, no, there’s nothing.” Nora shook her head. “I just wish she wasn’t going. I don’t hold wi’ travel. There’s no need. I know Miss Griselda’s newly wed, and expecting her first child, and the poor soul worries something wretched, from all the letters she’s been sending. But that’s the way some folk are. She’ll be all right, like as not; and either way, there’s nothing the mistress can do.”
    “Is Miss Griselda delicate?”
    “Lord no, just took it into her head to worry herself. She was all right till she married that Mr. Murdoch with his airs and graces.” She bit her lip. “Oh, I shouldn’t’ve said that. I’m sure he’s a very nice man.”
    “Yes, I expect so,” Hester said without belief.
    Nora looked at her with a faint smile.
    “I daresay you’d like a cup o’ tea,” she offered. “It’s near eleven. There’ll be something in the dining room, if you want.”
    “Thank you. I think I will.”
    The only person sitting at the long oak table was a small woman Hester judged to be in her twenties. She had very dark hair, thick and shining, and a dusky complexion full of the most attractive color, as if she had just come in from an invigorating walk. It was not in the least fashionable, not in London anyway, but Hester found it a pleasant change from the much admired pallor she was accustomed to. The woman’s features were neat, and at first seemed merely pretty, but on closer examination there was an intelligence and a determination which was far more individual. And perhaps she was not twenty, but in her early thirties.
    “Good morning,” Hester said tentatively. “Mrs. Farraline?”
    The woman looked up at her as if startled by her intrusion, then she smiled and her entire bearing changed.
    “Yes. Who are you?” It was not a challenge but curiosity,as if Hester’s appearance were miraculous, and a delightful surprise. “Please do sit down.”
    “Hester Latterly. I am the nurse to accompany Mrs. Mary Farraline to London.”
    “Oh—I see. Would you like some tea? Or do you prefer cocoa? And oatcakes, or shortbread?”
    “Tea, if you please, and the shortbread looks excellent,” Hester accepted, taking a seat opposite.
    The woman poured tea and passed it to Hester, then proffered the plate with the shortbread. “Mother-in-law has hers upstairs,” she went on. “And of course all the men have gone to work, and Eilish is not up yet. She never is at this hour.”
    “Is she … poorly?” As soon as Hester spoke she knew she should not have. If a member of the household chose not to rise until nearly lunchtime, it was not her business to inquire the reason.
    “Good gracious no! Oh dear, I did not introduce myself. How remiss of me. I am Deirdra Farraline—Alastair’s wife.” She looked inquiringly at Hester to see if her explanation meant anything, and saw from her face that she already knew who he was. “Then there is Oonagh,” she continued. “Mrs. McIvor, who wrote to you, and then Kenneth, and Eilish—who is Mrs. Fyffe, although I never think of her like that, I don’t know why—and lastly Griselda, who now lives in London.”
    “I see. Thank you.”
    Hester sipped her tea and bit into the shortbread. It tasted even better than it looked, rich and crumbly, melting on the tongue.
    “Don’t worry about Eilish,” Deirdra went on conversationally. “She never gets up at a decent hour, but she’s perfectly well. One has only to look at her to see that. A charming creature, and the loveliest woman in Edinburgh, I shouldn’t wonder—but also the laziest. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m very fond of her,” she added quickly. “But not to deny her faults.”
    Hester smiled. “If we cared only for perfection, we should be very lonely.”
    “I quite agree. Have you been to Edinburgh before?”
    “No. No, I