‘I very much doubt it will be possible to see you later, Liam. You’ll be busy and I must stay with the children.’
‘Aw, couldn’t you sneak away for a half hour at least? I’ll wait for you at the back of the summer house the minute everyone has gone.’
‘It’ll be nearly dawn by then.’ But I was starting to waver.
‘Naw,’ he said. ‘Midnight or just after should be fine.’
I giggled at his optimism but after another exciting, long-drawn-out kiss that left me breathless, he strode quickly away before I had time to object further.
The kitchen being awash with steaming dishes and harassed chefs, also specially hired for the occasion, I carefully avoided the chaos and hurried up the back stairs, already worrying about the prospect of a midnight rendezvous. I was quite fond of Liam, as a friend, but had no real wish for our relationship to go beyond a few chaste kisses. Even at eighteen my ambitions lay in quite a different direction to marriage.
I was in the process of putting the younger children to bed, preparing to read them a story, when the Countess strolled into the nursery. Miss Irina instantly sat up, bright-eyed, in her bed, eager for her mother to notice her. Instead the Countess went to sit by her son, who was playing a game of chess with Master Robin.
‘Are you winning, my darling?’ she asked.
‘Of course. He’s hopeless.’
‘Poor little Robin, not quite the bright young heir your father had hoped for, then?’ she said with mocking humour.
I saw how the boy’s face flushed with silent anger at this jibe, but catching my warning glance he managed to hold his tongue. The Countess watched the game for a moment, making a few suggestions and laughing loudly when her son swooped to capture Master Robin’s queen.
‘Checkmate!’
‘What a star player you are, my love,’ she cried, ruffling his curls.
I felt so sorry for Master Robin, who was furiously trying to salvage yet another lost game to a boy two years younger than himself, and with a witness to add to his humiliation. Behind me I heard a small sigh from where the Countess’s small daughter sat patiently waiting for her mother to pay her some attention. Filled with a rush of pity for her, too, I recklessly stepped forward and bobbed a curtsey.
‘Your ladyship, I was about to read a story to Miss Irina, but I wondered if perhaps you would prefer to do that yourself. She was rather upset by the incident at the lake earlier, and I’m sure she’d love to have you sit with her for a while.’
The Countess half turned in her chair to give me a cool assessing glare. ‘How long have you been working at Carreck Place, girl?’
‘Six months.’
‘You are clearly diligent in your duties.’
‘Thank you, your ladyship.’ Yet something in the tone of voice, and the steely narrowing of her charcoal eyes, told me this remark was not necessarily meant as a compliment. She was, without doubt, a beautiful woman with lustrous dark hair, porcelain white skin and a shapely, voluptuous figure. Her gown of cream Brussels lace was exquisite, and every part of her ‒ hair, throat, wrists, hands, as well as the gown itself ‒ was ablaze with diamonds and sapphires. She presented an awesome figure, and it occurred to me that reminding any mother, let alone a countess, of her duties was definitely not part of my remit.
Countess Olga rose, towering over me by several inches, and my confidence evaporated still further. ‘Irina is a simple child with not an ounce of common sense in her, though I will concede that her behaviour has improved lately under your care. But then, that is what you are paid for,’ she informed me in imperious tones, making me feel smaller than ever. ‘However, perhaps you still have much to learn with regard to knowing your own station in life.’
I could feel a heat burning my cheeks. ‘I humbly apologise ma’am, if I gave any offence by my outburst. It was but a moment of panic. I feared Miss Irina was about to drown.’
‘A mistaken and overly dramatic reaction on your part. The children were playing a game, that is all.’
I glanced up, meeting the cool impassiveness of her gaze, and knew she read in my eyes that I did not for a moment believe so. ‘It was a game which could well have ended with your child’s death,’ I calmly informed her, the words coming from my foolish mouth without pause for thought. Oh dear, why must I always speak my mind? Now I’d be certain to lose my place, instantly dismissed for insubordination.
Her dark eyes widened in surprise at my insolence, as well they might, yet there was a mocking triumph there too, as if it pleased her to have irritated me enough to make me step out of line yet again. ‘You are an expert with children, are you, girl?’
‘I certainly know how to take care of them better than many parents, who seem to have little time for their children,’ I agreed with a slight toss of my head, thinking I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.
She actually laughed out loud at that, as if I’d made some sort of witty remark. ‘I dare say you might be right, yet I believe on that occasion you were far too diligent in your duties.’
Fortunately, I was spared from making a greater fool of myself by the dinner gong, which sounded at eight o’clock every evening, a signal for guests to assemble in the beautiful oak-panelled drawing room for cocktails. The Countess at once made her leisurely way to the door in a rustle of silken skirts, spine rigid, head held high and a condescending smile playing about her shapely lips. Her bearing clearly implied her conviction that she’d won the argument as easily as her son had demolished Master Robin on the chess board. ‘We shall say no more on the matter. It was, as you suggest, no doubt simply your foolish panic. I’m sure you will know better next time.’
I quickly stifled a sigh of relief that I would keep my job, while secretly hoping there never would be a next time. Then I watched in stunned disbelief as the Countess swept from the nursery, not even offering her daughter so much as a backward glance let alone a goodnight kiss.
Thank goodness, I thought, that the woman would be leaving by the end of the month and I’d never be obliged to cross swords with her ever again.
How wrong I was.
SIX
At midnight, as arranged, I slipped out through a side door and started up the path to the summer house, a shawl wrapped about my shoulders against the chill of an autumn evening. There were still a few stalwarts playing blackjack in the salon, a group of men in the billiard room, and others enjoying a nightcap in the conservatory, but most of the guests were leaving. I could hear the clatter of horses’ hooves and the bustle of carriages causing the usual traffic jams as they made their way down the long drive. The linkmen were swinging their lanterns as they whistled up the next, no doubt having filled the time waiting in the cold with a nip or two of whisky to keep warm. Drivers and linkmen were notorious for their drinking.
Liam was waiting for me behind the summer house, as promised, sheltering beneath an old ash tree as a drizzle of rain started. ‘I thought you were never coming,’ he complained.
‘Sorry, I fell asleep,’ I explained, and avoiding his eager kisses launched into the tale of my latest encounter with her ladyship. ‘I could hardly believe how callous and cruel that woman is to her own child. Why would her son be so precious to her, while she totally ignores her little daughter? The poor child obviously feels unloved and dreadfully bullied. It is so sad. Even Master Robin was embarrassed to find himself the butt of the Countess’s sarcasm.’
It was clear Liam wasn’t listening, far more concerned with nuzzling into my neck, kissing the curl of my ear, and running his hands up and down my back. ‘You’re becoming obsessed with that woman,’ he protested, ‘when there are much more interesting things we could be doing.’
As the rain began falling harder he pulled me inside the small building, laughing as he brushed the dampness from my hair. Built in Georgian times of slate and stone, the summer house was a favourite picnic spot on incl
ement days. It boasted one large room with a fireplace, and behind this a small kitchen area used for preparing food, and which the gardener had adapted for flower arranging. It was here that Liam dragged me, a private spot where we couldn’t be seen.
‘We really shouldn’t be here,’ I protested, already beginning to regret ever having agreed to meet him, and experiencing a sudden longing for the warmth of my bed. It had been a long day, with another early start in the morning. ‘What if someone should come?’
‘Why should anyone come when they’re all going home in their fine carriages?’ His kisses grew more urgent as he smoothed a hand over my hip, letting it creep up to my waist. I caught it just before it reached my breast.
‘Please behave, Liam. I’m not that sort of girl.’
‘You showed no objection to my kisses earlier,’ he reminded me, persisting in his attempts of seduction by pushing back my shawl and beginning to unfasten the buttons of my blouse. I slapped his hand away.
‘Stop that! Allowing you to kiss me was obviously a foolish mistake on my part. Please let go of me.’
He only laughed at my protests and started on the next button. ‘You know that you love it really. You’re as mad about me as I am about you. Don’t you think we make a lovely couple?’
‘No I don’t, and we aren’t in any way a couple.’ Despite my desperate attempts to stop him, his fumbling efforts with the buttons of my uniform were beginning to pay dividends as my blouse yawned open. Pushing him away with both hands, I finally managed to free myself, quite breathless with the effort. ‘I’m not sure what you were expecting by asking me to meet you here, but I think this relationship is in danger of going much too far, too quickly. I absolutely refuse to be taken advantage of.’
‘I wasn’t taking advantage, Millie, I adore you, you know I do. I love everything about you: your lovely eyes as soft and grey as summer storm clouds, your gorgeous neat little figure,’ he murmured, his gaze flicking appreciatively over my breasts. Then, as if recognising his mistake, he prudently smoothed his hands over my wayward curls. ‘And your long fair hair that I’d love to see fly free instead of coiled into a plait on top of your lovely head.’
Fearing he was about to start undoing that too, I took a step back, attempting to restore order to my uniform. ‘You have to stop this now, Liam.’
‘Why must I?’ he said, pulling me close once more to trail his lips along the curve of my throat. ‘I swear I’ll make an honest woman of you just as soon as I can. You know I’d ask you to be my wife this very minute, if I could afford it.’
Half laughing at this declaration, I gave him a firm shove. ‘And if you did such a crazy thing, I would refuse.’
‘What?’ He gazed at me open-mouthed, as if not for a moment could he imagine any girl refusing him.
‘The fact is, Liam, I’m happy to be your friend but I don’t love you, and I’m not in the least interested in getting married. I’m far too young. Besides, I have other plans.’ I hoped there would come a time when I would relish having a man to love me, and to experience the meaning of true desire, but that was some years off so far as I was concerned.
‘What sort of plans?’ he asked, not looking at all pleased as I tied my shawl in a firm knot across my breast.
‘Oh, quite ambitious ones actually: to educate myself a little more, for a start. I’m reading Stories of King Arthur by U. W. Cutler at the moment. Great fun, you should try it. Then one day I hope to get a better job and improve my station in life, most of all to travel and see the world.’ I could feel that familiar kernel of excitement start up inside at the thought. ‘That’s what I’ve always dreamed of. Wouldn’t you like to better yourself?’
It was clear from the expression of disbelief on his handsome face that the thought had never occurred to him. He thrust back his shoulders as if reasserting his pride. ‘I’m actually quite happy the way I am, and plenty of girls would be glad of an offer of marriage from me.’
I stifled a giggle. ‘I’m sure there are any number. You’re a fine looking man, a prize for any young woman, but not for me, I’m afraid. I value your friendship Liam, but it would be unfair to continue seeing you, feeling as I do.’
‘Then it’s your loss,’ he said with a casual shrug, the dark scowl on his face telling quite a different story. He half turned, as if about to swagger away, when there came the unmistakable sound of grunts and gasps from the other room. We both froze.
‘Quick,’ Liam hissed. ‘Under the bench.’
We dropped to our knees to shuffle out of sight, fear and fury in equal measure cascading through me, making my limbs shake, only too aware that if we were discovered here together, we would both lose our positions.
Liam nudged me with his elbow, grinning from ear to ear as he pointed to a broken plank in the wall. Through the gaping hole we had a clear view of the main room in the summer house. Sprawled on the floor on a carefully spread cloak, in the most undignified position possible, lay the Countess. She had her legs wrapped about the waist of a man as he pleasured her, his trousers drooping around his ankles. I stared at the pair in dawning horror. I could see only his bare backside, but I would have recognised those trousers anywhere. It was my master, Lord Rumsley.
In that moment of appalled recognition I must have gasped out loud, for Countess Olga’s head turned towards me, her amused gaze meeting mine.
I spent the next few days trying not to think of what I had witnessed, concentrating on teaching young Serge to ride a pony, polishing the skills he’d been practising for some weeks now. The Count was apparently an expert with horses but his son had refused to learn, afraid he might fail and disappoint his father. Master Robin, however, was most proficient at riding, so Serge had felt bound to try as he had no wish to be outshone. There remained a strong rivalry between the two boys.
The two little girls had not joined us, choosing instead to spend the morning learning how to stitch a sampler with the assistant nursemaid. Such activities seemed to suit them very well, and even Miss Irina had seemed calmer and more content of late. For my part, I was more than happy for someone else to take on the teaching of such domestic skills, being enough of a tomboy to much prefer riding to sewing.
‘Croire en soi,’ I said, urging Serge to believe in himself. ‘Avoir le courage.’ I generally spoke to the Russian children in French, since they were each far more fluent in the language than they were in English ‒ quite common among Russian aristocracy, it seemed.
‘Gardez votre dos droit,’ I called, urging him to sit up straight as he rode the pony around the ring. I was happily applauding his success, telling him he would soon be skilled enough to take out on a proper ride, when the Countess’s voice interrupted me.
‘I did not know you spoke French, girl.’
I quickly bobbed a curtsey, my heart almost turning over as I feared she would be certain to ask what I had been doing in the summer house that night. On the other hand, she might well choose that act of folly on my part as a means to bully me into silence. Not that I would say a word to a living soul: discretion was essential in a servant. We are expected to be deaf, dumb and blind so far as the antics of our masters and mistresses are concerned. But she had no reason to trust me.
‘My mother is French,’ I politely explained. ‘So naturally I am bilingual.’
‘Really? Well, I’m impressed. Not only with your skill with language but your ability to bring calm to my fractious daughter, and, it seems, finally persuade my son to ride. Quite an achievement in itself.’
‘Perhaps that is because I put no pressure on him, but simply made it fun. I also try to give Miss Irina the attention she needs,’ I replied, as usual unable to keep my opinions to myself.
‘Is this yet another piece of advice on parenting?’ she remarked caustically. ‘You are certainly a young lady with a great deal to say for herself, as well as a knack for always being around when least expected
.’
This last comment was an obvious reference to the incident in the summer house and, silently berating myself for my loose tongue, I quickly stepped out of her way as she strode over to congratulate her son, privately vowing to keep my lips buttoned in future.
The very next day I was astonished to be called to the drawing room where the Countess and Lady Rumsley were taking tea.
‘Ah, Millie, there you are. I have the pleasure to inform you that Countess Olga has offered you a job.’
I stared at my employer, dumbstruck with shock, so that it was several seconds before I could take in a word of what the Countess was saying.
‘. . . I was hoping to persuade you to accompany us back to Russia,’ she finished. ‘I’m very impressed with the way you have handled my naughty children, as well as your facility with French. I am also naturally keen to improve the children’s knowledge of English, and their manners, of course. I feel you would be the ideal person for the task.’
My mistress smiled kindly at my stunned expression, answering for me as I was still quite unable to respond. ‘I know Millie is most grateful for the offer, if rather shy and surprised. We shall naturally be sorry to lose you, Millie, but this is an opportunity you can hardly afford to pass by.’
‘I am indeed most grateful, y-your ladyship,’ I stuttered, not quite able to believe my ears. All my life I had longed to travel, and here I was being offered the chance. How could I refuse such an amazing opportunity? It was a dream come true.
SEVEN
I’d forgotten that you could speak French,’ Abbie said, smiling.
‘Bien sur. Est votre français améliorant?’
‘Plutôt bien.’
The Amber Keeper Page 5
