Rolling his eyes, Benjamin shook his head. “Tell them to send me the bill for the shoe and bring the beast with us.” What a maid was doing with a horse, he could not understand, but, wanting to be left in peace, he dismissed the coachman and waited for his breakfast.
After he broke his fast, Benjamin readied himself for the short trip to his estate. He made his way to his carriage, having forgotten the passenger that was to accompany him until he saw two figures sitting atop. Before climbing in, he glanced up, to find himself staring into eyes that were all too familiar — ones he had seen scarcely an hour earlier. This time Benjamin saw more in her expression. Within the biggest brown eyes Benjamin had ever seen, he also saw a large amount of fear.
For a reason Benjamin could not explain, he simply could not draw his gaze away from her and she, despite her station, continued to look at him. Managing to clear his throat, and reminding himself firmly that she was a servant and nothing more, Benjamin managed a small smile. “So we meet again. You are the new maid, are you?”
“I am,” she replied, before dropping her gaze. “I mean, I am, my lord.” Her cheeks burned with a sudden fire and Benjamin thought that she was one of the most exquisite creatures he’d ever had the chance to see. Struck by just how inappropriate such a thought was, Benjamin tugged his eyes away from the lady and went to sit inside, wondering as he did at her ability to afford such a room at the inn.
As the carriage moved away, however, Benjamin’s thoughts turned and he berated himself for allowing his mind to become so tainted by a pair of beautiful eyes such as the lady had. He was here to turn over a new leaf, was he not? And that meant that he would treat his staff with respect and consideration, and not have his way with any of the maids. That would be particularly difficult when such a fine specimen was among them but Benjamin was determined to show his father that he was a changed man.
“Here we are, milord!”
The cheerful shout of the coachman had Benjamin start in surprise, and he realized he’d fallen asleep. Were they here? Looking out of the window, Benjamin saw the rather large white stucco house coming into view, with small gardens but what seemed to be an extensive forest to the back of the estate. The gardens, while maintained, looked as though they could do with a fresh start, particularly since they lacked any amount of color. The house itself looked to be in decent condition, although some of the statues out front had the first touches of green. He would have to ensure the gardener got rid of any kind of moss or lichen for he thought the estate should have a somewhat grand appearance.
The carriage stopped just outside the front door and Benjamin was pleased to find the staff all lined up to meet him. He descended the carriage steps almost at once, and greeted the only two he remembered from his previous visits -- the butler, Smithers, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Martins. They introduced him to the rest and he nodded to each staff member, in turn.
“I am very glad to be here,” he said jovially to the assembled staff. “I am sure we shall all get along splendidly.” He dismissed them and, turning back to the housekeeper, indicated the maid who was climbing down from the carriage.
“This is our new maid,” he said, missing the startled expression on Mrs. Martins’ face. “The coachman met her at the inn. Something about a horse throwing a shoe, which is why she came with me. The horse itself can be stabled for the time being. At length, I shall talk to her about the creature and what we are to do with it.”
“Of course, my lord,” the housekeeper murmured, her eyes on the new maid. “It is very good of you to bring her here.”
“Well,” Benjamin chuckled, “I could not exactly leave her at the inn now, could I? Although why we need another maid, I am not quite sure, given that there appears to be so many staff members already!”
The housekeeper’s eyes flashed. “We certainly do need her, my lord. The house is large and there are a great many duties.”
He shrugged, surprised at how strongly the woman had responded. “You know the household best, Mrs. Martins! I defer to your better judgement.”
The maid, by this time, was standing just to his left, her eyes fixed on the ground. Benjamin was surprised to see just how small and slight she was, thinking that she looked to have a somewhat delicate constitution. He hoped that she was not about to faint, given how pale she looked. Perhaps she had travelled a long distance and was merely exhausted.
“Perhaps no duties for today, Mrs. Martins,” he said, wondering what had brought these words to his lips. He should not be showing special attention to any of the staff. “Ensure she is fed too, for she looks about to faint.” He smiled at the astonished housekeeper, confusion swirling in his chest as to why he had been so concerned over one of his servants.
“You are very kind, my lord,” came the maid’s low voice, but Benjamin merely shrugged.
“I had best go inside now and explore my new home,” he said, with a smile. “Mrs. Martins, a tray in the study, if you please. Coffee, not tea.”
“At once, my lord,” Mrs. Martins replied, bobbing a curtsy. Benjamin nodded, giving one last look up at the house before walking inside.
The house was large but not overly so. Benjamin wandered through it at his leisure, seeing it with new eyes as his responsibility, before eventually finding his way back to the study. The tea tray was sitting on his father’s broad mahogany pedestal desk, which gave Benjamin an uncomfortable feeling as he went to sit behind it. There was something about being at this side of the desk, as opposed to being sat in front of it. A sense of duty, of purpose.
“Although I am not sure whether I can fulfil those requirements,” Benjamin muttered to himself, adding a little milk to his coffee. He could not pretend that he was not already missing the pleasures of town, for they had been such a big part of his life for so long that they left something of a hole within him. To go from a large group of friends to none whatsoever felt strange. A sense of loneliness wrapped itself around Benjamin’s heart, and he sank back into his chair with a sigh.
“Perhaps I ought to send for a couple of friends,” he muttered to himself, his lips twisting into a grimace. He had no doubt what his father would say if he heard that Benjamin had recalled his friends from town. Then again, it was not up to the old man what Benjamin did and who he had to stay.
But I want to succeed, Benjamin thought to himself. The truth was, if he did choose to invite his friends, then chances were that he would, more than likely, be drawn back into that way of living. He would ultimately fail, his estate would fall and he would be cut from his father’s will. No, he could not ask his friends from town.
“Although I might ask some I have not seen for some time,” he mused to himself, pulling open the desk drawers to his right and left one at a time until he found some parchment. Twirling the quill pen that had been resting on the leather desktop between his hands for a moment, Benjamin dipped it in the inkwell and began the first of two letters, requesting the pleasure of each man’s company at his new estate. He had not seen either fellow for a good few years but now seemed like as good a time as any to re-establish their acquaintance. They both lived nearby, were unmarried, and owned their own title and estate, so Benjamin reasoned that they might be of some assistance to him, given that he had very little idea of what to do.
His quill scratched over the paper for a few minutes more until both letters were sanded, folded and sealed. Then, getting to his feet, Benjamin rang the bell and stood by the window, looking out over the gardens of his estate. His heart swelled with a sudden pride as he drew in a deep breath, master -- for the time being -- of all that he surveyed.
“Yes, milord?”
“I have two letters here,” Benjamin replied, holding them up. “And might you send up some of the accounts? I suppose I should look over them.”
The butler took the two letters but did not retreat. Instead, he set them down, walked to the other end of the study and opened a large drawer in the bookcase cabinet.
“You will find all t
he accounts here, my lord,” he said, setting down a large book on Benjamin’s desk. “The steward is available to see you and speak with you whenever you wish.”
“Make an appointment with him for tomorrow,” Benjamin replied, sitting down again and running his fingers over the book’s worn cover. “Say two o’clock in the afternoon.”
The butler nodded and picked up Benjamin’s letters. “Of course, my lord. Can I get you anything else?”
Benjamin shook his head, pulling open the front cover of the book and finding that it was filled with nothing but numbers.
“There is fresh brandy in the decanter, my lord,” the butler continued, when Benjamin did not reply. “And dinner will be served very soon.”
Benjamin muttered something unintelligible and waved the butler away, entirely taken up with the accounts book. Running his finger down the length of one page, he looked at all the numbers and the small description next to each one of what had been purchased.
The problem was that Benjamin was not particularly good with numbers. He could already feel his head beginning to thump as he tried his best to work out what had been coming in and what had been going out. While everything looked to be in order, if he did not go through the accounts himself, how could he be sure that there were no discrepancies? He had to make sure that he knew the intricacies of what went on in his estate, and that meant getting his head around the figures.
He bit back a sigh as his mental arithmetic failed him, yet again. With a quiet groan, he put his head in his hands. A sharp longing for London and all the pleasures that came with it pierced him, but Benjamin batted the pain away at once. He could not lose himself in daydreams about returning to that life, nor get mired down in self-pity. He had to do this. He had to succeed, for to return a failure meant that his future would be very different from what he had planned. There would be time for frivolity and joviality at a later date, but at this present moment, he had to embrace his new responsibilities and tasks with a fierce determination that, currently, he did not feel.
“Perhaps I shall look at the accounts tomorrow,” he muttered to himself, closing the book and pushing it to one side. Seeing the brandy decanter in the corner, Benjamin rose and poured himself a measure into a glass, swirling it around before taking a sip.
“I can do this,” he told himself, repeatedly, as the brandy slowly built a fire in his limbs. “I will not fail.”
8
“I am so very grateful to you all,” Sophie said, grasping the cook’s warm hands. “I did not know what would become of me.”
The cook, Mrs. Potts, smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “I am very glad to have you here, Madam. It’s not every day we have a lady become part of the serving staff. I must confess, it’s quite unorthodox!”
“But necessary, “ Mrs. Martins interjected. “When I heard of your plight, and how very alone you were, I could not have ignored such news. However, that was before we knew Lord Benjamin was coming.”
Sophie felt her cheeks burn. “He seems a very kind man, that is to be sure,” she murmured quietly.
“Kind?” Mrs. Potts chuckled, shaking her head. “He is not kind in the least! That man has been wrapped up in himself since the day he was born.” She made to say more but, with a disapproving look from the housekeeper, she murmured, “I suppose he’s not the worst sort, though,” before lapsing into silence.
“Regardless, I am grateful that he was willing to drive me here,” Sophie replied, with a lift of one shoulder.
Mrs. Martins gave her a tight smile. “I am quite sure you will get to know his true nature very soon. He has been here on previous occasions, although that was many years ago. However, two of the footmen were sent here from the London townhouse. They have brought a great many tales with them which, of course, I have discouraged from being spread around the house, but it seems it cannot be helped.”
Sophie tried to smile and nod but ended up feeling a little sick. She had found Lord Harrington both a handsome and considerate gentleman, but that had only been on the briefest of acquaintances. She might well be wrong. It had taken her some time to determine Malcolm’s true nature. Was she truly such a terrible judge of character?
“Now,” Mrs. Martins continued, leading her into the housekeeper’s small private parlor where a tea tray sat waiting for them. “I know that the situation you are in does not place you where you ought to be, but I believe you wish to hide from your cousin for a time.”
“Yes,” Sophie breathed, a frisson of fear racing down her back as the housekeeper handed her a cup of tea. “My cousin has been quite intent on pressing his intentions on me, and while I was always able to hide in my room, the staff told me that he planned to remove the lock and replace it with a new one so that he might have the key.” She shuddered violently, the tea sloshing over the side of her cup. “I hate to impose, but I have nowhere else to turn.”
Mrs. Martins nodded slowly, her lined face grim. “Yes, I was told that you had no other family to speak of.”
“None,” Sophie admitted, trying to keep the sadness from her face. “When my parents died, I was sent to live with Malcolm, who is my distant cousin, but I have no one else in the world who might care for me.”
Carefully topping up Sophie’s teacup, Mrs. Martins looked up at Sophie thoughtfully. “Then I am glad to have you here, even though it is a very unusual situation. You are quite sure you are willing to take on the role of a servant?” Her expression betrayed a difficulty in believing that Sophie would be capable of doing such a thing.
“I will do whatever I have to,” Sophie answered, firmly. “I cannot go back to my cousin and so I must have food and shelter if I am to survive. I know Malcolm will look for me, and if I am found, then I know not what he shall do.”
The housekeeper did not look in the least bit perturbed. “I am quite sure he will not look for you among the staff,” she said, firmly. “That is why I agreed to Mrs. Potts’ suggestion. It is only she and I that know of your true identity, so be prepared to be treated by the rest of the staff as another maid.”
Sophie managed a slight smile. “I should be glad to be thought of as one of them,” she replied, at once. “I do not want to be treated any differently, although I do not have any experience in cleaning and dusting.” Heat hit her cheeks as she realized just how foolish she sounded. “I mean, I have other skills such as arithmetic and geography, but I hardly think they will be particularly useful at the moment!”
“Unfortunately not,” Mrs. Martins commented, with a slightly rueful smile. “However, we will do what we can. You might prove more useful to assist me with my duties, given that arithmetic and the like are more often a part of my responsibilities than the maids.”
Sophie managed a soft laugh, desperately wondering if she would manage to do what was required of her. Doubts began to plague her as Mrs. Martins rose from her chair, ready to show Sophie her room. Sophie followed, bag in hand, hearing the housekeeper say something about a uniform. She was given a few curious glances by the other servants, who, by this time, were gathering together for their own luncheon. Sophie tried to smile at each one that passed her but was given no words of welcome. She hoped the icy reception was not an indication of what was to come.
“Here,” Mrs. Martins smiled, opening the door into what was the smallest room Sophie had ever seen. “I am quite sure this is not the size you are used to but it is, at least, private and you can lock it from the inside. No one will bother you, but the key to the lock is already in the door.”
Sophie smiled and thanked her, appreciating her kindness.
“Do come through to eat with the rest of us,” Mrs. Martins replied, making to close the door. “Once you are settled in, of course.”
Promising that she would, Sophie stood by the bed and looked around the small room. It was almost the same size as her dressing room had been, long and narrow. There was a bed in one corner, a small table and a few candles. That was all. There was no fire but plenty of blankets. Sophie c
ould not imagine what it would be like to dress in the morning, wondering whether there would be ice on the inside of the small, narrow window. She shivered at the thought, placing her bag on the bed. The frame creaked as she sat down next to it, making her wonder whether or not it would truly take her weight.
But Sophie determined that she would not complain. Yes, the room was nothing like she was used to and certainly a lot smaller, but it was better than remaining in her large room at Malcolm’s estate with the sound of his determined bellow ringing in her ears. And, at least here she felt safe, even though she was taking on a role that was not hers and certainly did not belong to her. She had no idea how to cook or clean, and was certain she would look like a most incompetent maid. The last thing she needed was for the master to consider her a very strange thing and get rid of her – for she needed both the job and the security.
“Then I shall just put my mind to it and learn,” she muttered to herself and, getting to her feet, began to take things from her bag and set them about the room. Her clothes neatly away, Sophie pulled out the last of her items – a small miniature of her parents. She gazed at it for a moment, her heart squeezing painfully. If only they had lived, how different life would have been.
Brushing away a single tear, Sophie set her shoulders and determined to make the best of the situation. She could do this. She would to do this. She had no other choice.
“Now,” Mrs.Martins murmured, as she helped Sophie tie up her hair following the mid-day meal. “We shall go and introduce you to the master and I will ask him specifically if I can train you. I shall say some such thing about you having more skills than I first realized, and that I think you could do with some additional training and that you might be a help to me.” She gave Sophie a kind smile. “I think that would do you better than dusting and the like.”
Sophie did not quite manage to curve her lips, tension rolling around in her stomach at the thought of meeting Lord Harrington again. He was handsome, to be sure, but the words of the cook reminded her too much of Malcolm. She had hoped to try to escape his notice as best she could.
Hearts of Trust Page 5
