The Second Lady Emily by Allison Lane

And despite the fanciful tale she had spun, she had received no special powers to solve this mystery.
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
    Another fortnight passed before Cherlynn was strong enough to leave her room, and even then she wasn’t up to the lengthy dinners typical of the Regency period. She spent her days trying to improve her stamina.
    Cherlynn’s mother had once tried to turn her into a dancer. Cherlynn had hated every minute of those classes, but now she blessed them. The stretching routines dancers used were excellent warm-ups for her daily regimen of calisthenics, aerobics, and the kicks and dodges she’d learned in a self-defense course. Her physical exertions probably delayed her recovery for a few days, but the conditioning might prove vital. The few facts she’d gleaned about Fay made the girl sound dangerous when crossed. Terminating Drew’s betrothal would hardly sit well.
    Few callers intruded. Drew had ceased visiting once her fever broke, though he continued to supply whatever foods she requested. Charles likewise avoided her company, which relieved some of her stress. His visits always included animadversions against her dietary regimen despite its obvious success. If he learned about her exercise program, he might commit her to Bedlam. Dr. McClarren returned to London, promising to return when he judged she would be completely restored to health. Thus her only regular visitors were Lady Clifford – whose diatribes were a trial she found hard to endure – and Lady Anne, Drew’s shy young sister, who stopped briefly each afternoon to inquire about her condition.
    A fortnight of exercise energized her until she could no longer remain in her room. She had come to England to research the Regency period. What better source would she find than actually living in it?
    On that thought, she set out to explore the house, or at least the Regency wing.
    She was familiar with the layout from her tour, but the decor was different than she recalled – which was only to be expected. The faded Regency furniture occupying the National Trust property had been installed by Drew after he acceded to the title. Most of the rooms now contained heavy seventeenth-century pieces that she found oppressive. Whatever Drew’s morals, she had to admire his taste.
    The fifth marchioness had decorated the morning room in a light French motif that had survived into Cherlynn’s time, but she again noted differences. Accustomed to the faded splendor of 1998, she found the original furnishings almost garish. Yet a moment’s thought explained the bright colors. German chemists would not discover the artist’s palette hidden in petrochemicals until the mid-1800s. Many natural dyes were expensive. Thus using a broad range of bright colors indicated wealth. That was even more true because the Regency also lacked good color fixatives, so every cleaning dulled the fabric.
    Leaving the morning room, she entered the library – which contained only half the volumes she had last seen on its shelves – and avidly perused the titles. No one had thought to supply Emily with books during her convalescence, and she hadn’t wanted to make an issue of her differences, but she was bored out of her mind. A section in the corner contained a collection of gothic novels, each inscribed Elizabeth Villiers , Anne’s older sister, who was now Lady Lindleigh, mother of two children. Apparently Anne had purchased no novels of her own. Even Jane Austen’s first published work, Sense and Sensibility, was absent, though it had come out more than a year before.
    But no matter. Grabbing the first volume of Otranto , she settled contentedly into a chair and was devouring its pages when the door opened to admit Thurston.
    “You like novels?” he asked in surprise, identifying the book in her hand.
    “I love them,” she answered truthfully before recalling that she was supposed to be Emily. Lady Clifford was both empty-headed and dictatorial, so the girl probably