The Bentleys had sent a carriage and outriders to escort their guests. The Marquess, an elegant figure in his antique finery, received the first shock of the evening. For it was not the old Westerby coachman, Pomfret, up on the box, but a pasty-faced young fellow, who informed his lordship rather smugly that Mr. Bentley had hired new servants for the Chase. “But there are families who have served the Westerbys for generations,” protested the Marquess, outraged. The coachman gave him a cynical look but contented himself with folding his mouth in a thin line. This tawdry Marquess couldn’t even pay the wages of a scullery maid. Who was he to be so high and mighty about the servants at the Chase? Jane noticed her father’s trembling fingers and turned her face to the snowy fields. Jane and her stepmother were wearing pocket panniers under their dresses. The hoop was divided into two sections, and the panniers were formed by pulling drapery through the pocket holes, the pockets hanging on the inside in the form of bags.
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