by May Burnett
“I see,” she murmured. “Though it might be difficult to know in advance who answers to that description.”
He drank from his own cup, strong and unsweetened as he liked his tea. In Russia, it would be even stronger and served without milk. But better to remain in the moment while he was still in London. The picture of Amanda in that pale green dress would accompany him on his travels. The fine material clung to her form, hinting at delights as yet untasted. She was still graceful, but that would change soon enough.
“Your aunt seems to believe that I need to have my portrait taken for my descendants to admire,” Amanda remarked as she helped herself to a small cherry tartlet. “Is it really necessary?”
“Would you not like to have a picture of your prime, as lovely as you are right now, when you are old and white-haired? To remind everyone in the household how pretty you were as a young wife?”
“I had never thought about it,” she said frankly. “To be honest, the prospect leaves me unmoved. It might arouse melancholy to compare the older self to the younger one, if looks are all we are measured upon.”
“Ah, but your older self will have wisdom and experience to compensate.”
She regarded him sceptically. “You are twenty years older. Is it sufficient compensation?”
He fought back momentary irritation at her question. Did she regard him as an old man? “Right now, inside at least, I don’t feel much different from who I was at twenty or thirty, though that may be an illusion. Ask me again when I am infirm or senile.”
She bit her lips. “I did not mean to offend you, Lucian, or imply that you are not as strong and able as a younger man. But surely twenty years are enough to make a beginning on that wisdom and experience?”
He had to smile at her awkward explanation. “Not everyone acquires them, unfortunately, and I won’t even aspire to wisdom before the age of fifty. We both have quite a few years, still, where foolishness is allowed and encouraged.”
“A strange way of looking at things,” she commented, regarding him thoughtfully. “So inside you don’t feel so much older than I? The other night you told me that I was too young for you still.”
“I am starting to change my mind, though at a most inconvenient time. When I come back from my travels and you are safely delivered, I would like to revisit the subject, with your permission.”
She nodded, not showing in her expression what she thought of his suggestion. “I shall think upon it in the meantime.”
“To give you some idea of what it would feel like, may I give you a goodbye kiss?”
“I believe it is customary before long absences,” she agreed.
He did not want to frighten her in any way, so he kept the kiss relatively— though not quite—chaste. It was difficult, for her rosy lips were as sweet as tender raspberries plucked straight from the bough on a sunny day. He felt an overwhelming impulse to seduce, to ravish her with caresses. To stay and enjoy the bounty before him, and let the ship depart without him. But duty called, and so he resisted. To go any further now would only expose him to useless longing during the imminent journey.
She looked a little confused when they were done but said nothing.
“Until we meet again, my lady. Please be safe.”
“You too,” she said, an impish smile breaking out on her face. “And don’t share your kisses with too many others, Lucian. I may want them for myself.”
He bowed. It was not as though there were only a finite number . . . but he would certainly keep enough for Amanda to satisfy her every desire.
When he returned.
Chapter 9
Amanda’s first view of Racking, her new domain, was hampered by driving rain. Even so, it was an impressive sight.
“The oldest parts date from the fourteenth century,” Tennant told her as the tired horses sped up at the prospect of imminent stabling and fodder. “It used to belong to the ancient Gerclain family, but the last baron died, conveniently, just a year before Charles II bestowed the place on your husband’s ancestor, the infant first earl. The estate’s name was changed to Racking to go with the new title.”
“How many servants are there?” Amanda asked.
“Not more than two hundred, my lady. They will be waiting, now, to be presented to their new mistress.” Tennant had adamantly refused to use her given name, maintaining that it would be unseemly. Even so, he was fast becoming something of a friend and ally. She could certainly use one and had high hopes of finding a few more there.
The presentation of the staff was almost becoming routine, after the Northumberland estate and the London house. To avoid the rain, the members of the household were lined up in the great entrance hall rather than outdoors. Amanda had never expected to be in charge of so many souls at her young age but did not let the fact worry her. A lady knew how to deal with her staff. Whether she had five servants or several hundred was a mere detail.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Penstrum, did not impress Amanda favourably. Though she was respectful enough, outwardly, in her gaze there was an indefinable air of resentment. She might have to be put in her place. As the countess, with her husband’s authority behind her, Amanda’s was the stronger position. She was determined to be a fair and even generous mistress, but especially at the beginning of a lady’s tenure, she could not afford to tolerate impertinence or insubordination.
Before dismissing the servants, she addressed a few sentences of thanks and confidence to them, as her husband had done on the two previous occasions.
“That was well done,” Tennant observed as the servants left to resume their normal duties. “You are suited to your high position; every one of them could see that, despite your youth, you are a lady worthy of respect and obedience.”
“Ha,” Amanda said, “If I cared a whit about their opinion of me, Lady Evencourt would chide me for a ninny. I want private speech with that housekeeper sooner rather than later. How long has she been in her position?”
“Mrs. Penstrum? For over twenty years, I believe, certainly far longer than I, myself, have worked for the earl. I don’t suppose she expected a new mistress after all these years, but she will soon become accustomed. These old retainers must be handled with especial care.”
“Is Lucian—the earl—very attached to her?”
“I could not say. Apart from her age, he certainly won’t have had, um, close relations with her or any of the other servants. He once explained to me that it struck him as unfair of employers to toy thus with their dependents, and as far as I am aware, he never looks in their direction.”
Amanda did not respond, but she was relieved. That was the last thing she needed, servants who had enjoyed intimate relations with her absent husband and presumed on that fact, while she, herself, had never—she pulled her thoughts back to the matter at hand. Mrs. Penstrum must be over fifty if she was a day, and not handsome, so she had not had the least suspicion of her being Lucian’s ex-lover. It was nonetheless suggestive that Tennant’s reply had immediately veered in that direction. Was it because Tennant was a man and always thought of carnal matters first, or because attachment and Lucian in one sentence made the association of ideas inevitable?
After washing and resting for a short while in the countess’s suite—old-fashioned but very large and with a lovely view of the park—she inspected the main floor, guided by the butler, a dignified middle-aged fellow by name of Rinner. She had bespoken a light repast to be served privately after her tour and had no fault to find with the service or quality.
Still, it was a little dismal to dine all alone the very first night in her new country home. It would be several days yet before Cousin Mattie could arrive; Amanda would simply have to entertain herself as best she could in the meantime.
Tennant would be staying one more night before returning to town. She found him in the library after her solitary breakfast. The secretary had a heavy volume of accounts open before him but immediately jumped up and bowed.
“My lady! I did
not expect to see you so early in the day.”
“I am not yet used to town hours and, as you know, grew up in the country. Are those the household accounts?”
“Yes, it is one of my duties to check them whenever I come here. Since I was in Racking only three months ago, it should not take me long to complete the task.”
“Is this not something the mistress of the house does in the normal way of things?”
His expression denoted surprise. “Ladies of your rank rarely bother. Certainly it is your prerogative to inspect them whenever you like, my lady.”
“Maybe we could go through the items together this once so that I obtain a clearer picture of the household’s economy.”
“If you like.” It did not take long. She was amazed at the number of wax candles and logs and the great quantities and cost of supplies. Had she had to pay for everything out of her pin money, she would be ruined in short order.
“Sixty-eight ells of dark blue cloth for footmen’s livery,” she read aloud. “As I remember, they were not clad in dark blue yesterday, and yet the entry is over a month old. What became of the cloth?”
“A small mystery that is soon cleared up.” Tennant rang the bell and sent for the housekeeper to join them. “I have jotted down a few other questions like that. Most of the time, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
When Mrs. Penstrum entered, she clearly had not expected the new countess to be present. Her curtsy was correct, but Amanda noted a slight uneasiness in the older woman’s demeanour.
“My lady, Mr. Tennant, is there anything I can do for you?”
“Just a few questions regarding the accounts,” Tennant said casually. “Why has the amount of candle wax increased so much compared to the same quarter last year?”
“Last year we had a surplus to use up and did not need to order the usual amount. This year we ordered somewhat more to ensure that we would not run out. Seeing we now have a countess in residence, it’s a good thing we did.”
It sounded reasonable enough, but Amanda decided to check on the amount of candle wax ordered over the last three or four years to see if there was any unusual pattern. Meanwhile, Tennant asked mildly, “What became of the blue cloth ordered for footmen’s livery? Where are the new garments?”
A muscle twitched in the woman’s neck. “Blue cloth? Ah, I remember now; we did not have the proper colour of thread on hand. The sewing of the new livery was unfortunately delayed.”
Tennant seemed inclined to let it go at that, but Amanda said, “I may have the right thread among the supplies I brought from town. Black should do, I imagine. Why don’t you bring the cloth here to us to see what can be done?”
Mrs. Penstrum twitched. “My Lady? Surely a countess has better things to do than bother with the footmen’s clothes.”
“It is hardly your place to comment on how I decide to spend my time or direct my attention,” Amanda said calmly. “Go and bring the cloth here to us. Now.”
“Yes, of course, I’ll bring a sample—”
“Not a sample, Mrs. Penstrum, but the whole sixty-eight ells,” Amanda corrected.
Mrs. Penstrum looked at Tennant for help, but he crossed his arms in front of his chest and frowned at her. “Obey your mistress, Mrs. Penstrum. Your reluctance is unseemly and suspicious.”
The housekeeper shot a look of acute dislike at Amanda. She would definitely have to go. “Now that I consider the matter, I remember that the cloth is not in the house—it is with the seamstress in the village. I can have it back by tomorrow.”
Amanda and Tennant exchanged a long look.
“Don’t bother. That will be all for now,” Amanda said coolly. In silence, they watched the black back of the woman retreat from the library.
“How did you know?” Tennant asked heavily. “I feel like a fool. Each time there were a few small discrepancies like this, but she always produced a reasonable-sounding explanation. And here the earl and I tried to warn you against swindlers and thieves!”
“My grandfather, when he was still alive, told me once that honest people are far too inclined to give others the benefit of the doubt. And her manner with you was very natural; it may be that I was doubly suspicious because I could tell that Mrs. Penstrum disliked and resented me, though she did her best to hide her reaction.”
“I shall have to stay for an extra day and check every single purchase of the last year against existing supplies.” He shook his head. “But I already know I’ll find more spurious entries. The question is, what shall we do about her?”
“She is my husband’s servant—do we have the authority to dismiss her?”
“Of course. In the case of a dishonest housekeeper, it would be irresponsible not to do so. We had best tell her on the morrow, after I have checked upon the evidence. Do you want to handle her dismissal, or shall I do it in your name?”
“I shall tell her myself, but you should be there, just in case.”
“It will be my pleasure, my lady.” Tennant bowed to her.
Amanda decided to leave him to his labours, which she had already increased by her interference. But she could not regret her actions. That housekeeper would only have caused her problems, and she was glad at the prospect of replacing her.
“That reminds me—who shall be put in her place? It would be best to bring in someone from outside, whose first loyalty is to her employers.”
“Yes. The head parlour maid in London—Struthers—might be a possibility. She is well-trained and hard-working and knows her letters. Of course, she is relatively young yet . . .”
“So am I. If you consider her suitable and she is willing to bury herself in the country, send her down as soon as you return to town.”
“It shall be as you order, my lady.”
Chapter 10
Amanda was not to have the chance to dismiss the thieving housekeeper. The woman must have realised from Tennant’s inspection that her days were up, for in the subsequent night she vanished from Racking. Her disappearance added to Tennant’s workload and delayed his departure yet further. He needed to conduct a thorough inspection of the whole estate to ascertain if she had taken any valuables with her and how great the damage might be.
The news that a new Countess Rackington was in residence had immediately spread across the entire county, and Amanda was soon busy receiving and returning calls from the local gentry. She was glad she was not yet showing; it was awkward enough not to have her husband at her side so soon after her marriage—not that she told anyone the exact date, trying rather to give the impression that a lengthy wedding journey lay behind her.
Most people were tactful enough not to ask directly for her husband’s whereabouts, but those who did were merely told that he had to undertake a sudden business journey abroad.
The arrival of Cousin Mattie—Mrs. Amathea Smithson—was most welcome. At last, a familiar face from her own past!
In the year since Amanda had last seen Sigurd, Mattie’s son, the child had shot up considerably. He was a serious and fussy boy, dark-haired like his father. Amanda took pleasure in introducing him to the spacious nursery on the second floor, which he would inhabit in solitary splendour until the new baby arrived.
“He’ll be lonely up here, so far from his Mama,” Mattie said worriedly.
Mrs. Ellington, the nurse Amanda had appointed the previous week after interviewing several local applicants, shook her head. “He’ll settle in soon enough, ma’am, and he’ll see you every day, after all.”
The boy did not appear upset. He was eagerly exploring the toy soldiers and rocking horse and picture books that previous children had left behind. Though free of dust, these objects must have been waiting a long time. As far as Amanda knew, Lucian had been the last child to inhabit this nursery. She tried to imagine her husband at Sigurd’s age. He would have played historic battles with the tin armies. But whose had been the large, elegantly dressed porcelain doll in the corner? With small glittering stones sewn into its costume
, the doll looked extravagantly expensive, quite unlike the toys she and Eve had played with in their much simpler nursery. She must warn Mrs. Ellington not to let Sigurd break it. Boys were invariably destructive, judging by her young brothers.
Seeing that Mattie was still fretting, Amanda gently drew her cousin away. “Don’t give Sigurd the idea he has to be sad and lonely just because you feel the separation. Both of you will soon get accustomed to the new routine.”
“You were a child yourself so short a while ago.” Mattie stared at Amanda. “It is amazing how your marriage and higher rank have changed you. Not only are you dressed more elegantly than anyone in our family, ever, you already speak with a countess’s authority.”
Amanda smiled briefly. “It is necessary in my new position. Thank you for coming, as I require a companion in my husband’s absence. I trust it was not a great sacrifice?”
“It is certainly a relief that I need no longer worry how to pay for things or whether I can turn my skirts yet again,” Mattie admitted. “Being employed as a companion is a new departure, however, and it will take some time to get used to it. You will have to explain what my duties are to be and be patient if I don’t act exactly as you want me to at first.”
“If I had merely wanted an employee,” Amanda said, “I would not have applied to a relative. In brief, you are here to bear me company and give me countenance.”
“For the latter, you could have found someone of higher birth—an impoverished noblewoman who knows the ways of the aristocracy. I am afraid I won’t be able to do justice to these extravagant surroundings.”
“From my limited acquaintance with the nobility, I am not sure I want to surround myself with its members—apart from my husband, of course, when he returns,” Amanda added conscientiously. “They have rather strange ideas. Since I am mistress here, I prefer to follow my own wishes and notions. Your role is to advise and support me. You may speak as frankly as you like, but preferably not where the servants can overhear an argument.” As Mattie still looked doubtful, she asked, “Have you heard anything from the family regarding the circumstances of my marriage, Mattie?”
