Clarissa and the Poor Relations by Alicia Cameron Read Free Book Online Page A

autumnal colour, with lashes that would be the envy of most young ladies. The draw of his eyes was such that Clarissa hardly noticed his firm jaw-line or his rakishly dimpled chin. He was dressed with quiet propriety in a blue coat, but however provincial his tailor, his magnificent form could not but make it look like a masterpiece.
    Her face turned towards him and quite naturally returned his grin. Despite the smut on her face Mr Elfoy warmed to her, ‘Hello there, have you hurt yourself? My name’s Elfoy and I’ve come to see your mistress.’
    Clarissa was stunned – what a figure she must cut. So she said, ‘Yes sir. I’ll find her.’ and disappeared quickly. She met the Miss Micklethwaite and Oriana in the hallway as she came running in disorder from the library.
    ‘Oh, Waity, Mr Elfoy the agent is in the library. Pray bear him company and tell him I’ll be along in some minutes. Oriana.’ cried Clarissa, grasping her hands, ‘Can you do something with my hair? Please come up with me.’
    Casting a bewildered glance at Miss Micklethwaite, Oriana murmured, ‘Of course, my dear.’
    It was a very different Clarissa who presented herself to Mr Elfoy presently. Miss Micklethwaite gave a start on seeing her, for never had Clarissa given so much attention to her appearance. How Clarissa’s hair came to be cut at the front and coaxed into clustering curls that framed her face so becomingly and then swept into a Grecian arrangement with black satin ribbons in a scant half-hour was beyond her. She was now more correctly attired in her new black muslin, high at the neck and trimmed with the Brussels’ lace from her mamma’s chest. Her eye had a sparkle about it that Miss Micklethwaite had never seen as she held out her hand in welcome to Mr Elfoy.
    ‘Ah, here is Miss Thorne now.’ she said stoutly.
    The handsome, easy-mannered young man that she had been conversing with for the half-hour previously had seemed to become turned to stone. Then a flush rose on his cheek and he became animated enough to clasp the hand that was being held out to him. That this was the same young woman whom he had supposed a maid, he had no doubt. He did not exactly see how it had been achieved but that he was dealing with a young lady of the first quality was quite obvious. How had he come to make such a mistake? Her chin was regally held he felt a fool of the first order. He began a tangled apology.
    ‘Miss Thorne. How rude you must have thought me. I did not know, I could not have guessed ...’ he stopped, realising he was getting himself into deeper water.
    Clarissa took pity on him.
    ‘Well of course not, sir, such a figure I must have cut in my old work gown. Don’t give it another thought’ and she smiled her smile of this afternoon in the friendliest manner, gesturing to take his seat. As she sat down her eyes teased him; ‘Now we have both been a little embarrassed, haven’t we?’
    Mr Elfoy found himself grinning again, causing her to dimple merrily. Good goodness, he thought, I am undone. How perfect she is and how I know I must not think such things about my employer.
    Oriana noted with amusement that her entrance had passed the young man by. Although not a conceited girl, she was nevertheless used to drawing male eyes – and what superior eyes Mr Elfoy possessed. And was it possible that Clarissa was flirting? The burns from the hot iron still smarted on Oriana’s hands, for Clarissa had urged her maid and Oriana to make haste upstairs and twisted and turned whist it was being done. When finally it was finished she had looked into the mirror appreciatively. ‘Now at least I shall not be taken for a servant.’
    Oriana had replied, ‘No, indeed.’
    She now exchanged amused glances with Miss Micklethwaite who was still reeling at the change in Clarissa. One glance at the handsome young agent was quite enough quite enough to explain her friend’s behaviour.
    Clarissa and he discussed the estate, with Oriana called