Two candelabras on the mantelpiece and another one on a large desk in the middle of the room did their best to provide light, but the walls were lost in darkness, save for glints of gold coming from the shadows that hinted the room was lined with books. There was a leaping fire in the grate, and in front of it stood the earl, holding a letter in his hand. He looked up as she entered. ‘When I ask to see you in future, I expect you to arrive before the last chime has been struck. I will not tolerate tardiness,’ he said. Helena said nothing, not knowing what to reply. ‘Well, come in,’ he said. She closed the door and stepped forward. ‘So. Mrs Elizabeth Reynolds,’ he said, looking down at the letter. ‘You have three years’ experience of housekeeping, two with the Right Honourable Mrs Keily, and one with the Rev Mr Plumley. Mr Keily was in business, I see.’ An expression of fastidious distaste crossed his face as he said it, and she was forcibly reminded of the fact that he was an aristocrat.
