Honor Bound
Page 30
"Good! I'll send Gertie to show you to the master's apartments." The steward moved past her, his stride brisk and purposeful.
"Just one question," she said and he stopped in the doorway. "Where will I sleep?" As a male servant, she would normally share a bed with one of the other male servants. It may be for only one night but that was long enough for her secret to be uncovered in the close proximity of a bed. However, her uncle's page had slept in a separate room within hearing of his master's shout. Hopefully the setup at Ashbourne House would be the same.
"You'll have a room adjoining the master's chamber," Fallon said. He gave her a brief nod of dismissal and left.
Pippa didn't let out her breath until the quick steps of the steward had disappeared. She drew in another and the delicious scent of cinnamon from the kitchen made her stomach rumble. She hadn't eaten since breaking her fast that morning.
She sat on one of the high-back chairs, clutched her satchel on her lap, and waited.
A few minutes later, a plump girl of about seventeen arrived and introduced herself as Gertie, one of the maids. She eyed Pippa from head to foot, lingering on the groin area. Pippa quickly stood and placed the satchel over herself before the maid found her lacking.
"You the Pip boy?" Gertie asked.
"Yes. I'm the new page—"
"Of the wardrobe. I know," the maid said cheerfully. "Come on, let's go." Gertie smiled and her entire face smiled too, from her brown eyes to her protruding front teeth.
"You new to London?" she asked, leading the way through the kitchen, two larders and a scullery.
"Is it that obvious?" Pippa wondered what had marked her as different. Her clothes? Her manner?
"You don't speak like one of us," Gertie said. "Where you from?"
"The west," Pippa said vaguely. "Tell me, what is Lord Ashbourne like?" She needed to keep the maid talking to stop her asking too many questions.
"He's a good master," Gertie said as she led the way up the back stairs. "Never raised a hand to any of us, even though Ralphy deserved it when he pinched the countess's necklace. She'd have had Ralphy flogged but his lordship would hear nothin' of it. Dismissed the little dog turd with full wages, so I heard."
Pippa followed Gertie up the next flight of stairs to the second floor. "I'll get lost in this place."
"You get used to it. Just remember these stairs lead straight to the master's lodgings and you can't go wrong. Only the servants use them." She paused and waited for Pippa to join her. "And sometimes the master, so mind he doesn't knock you over if he passes you in a hurry. These stairs aren't wide and you bein' so slight and him bein' so big...well, you'll come off worse." She laughed and continued up.
"Why would his lordship come this way?" The backstairs were built to provide access for the servants between the master's lodgings and the kitchen, larders and cellars. Why would the earl want to traverse through such an undignified passage?
Gertie shrugged rounded shoulders. "Who knows why he does anythin'? He's...what's the word? Unperdickable. Yep, that's it."
"Unpredictable," Pippa corrected.
"That's what I said. Unperdickable. He comes and goes when he pleases, no matter the hour, and..." she lowered her voice, "his visitors sometimes come and go at strange hours too. Even in the middle of the night when they think we're all asleep."
Pippa's eyes widened. "What sort of visitors?"
"All sorts. Men, women—"
"Women!" She bit her lip when Gertie shushed her with a finger to her lips. "Oh, of course. Women," Pippa said simply. Why wouldn't the unwed earl have dalliances? It was only natural. Wasn't it? She really had no idea.
"His lordship's not in," Gertie said, opening a door at the top of the stairs. "This is the master's wardrobe." She swept her hand wide to encompass the daybed, large cupboard and coffers beside it and the fireplace surrounded by three stools. Although the room had none of the embellishments Pippa was used to in her own wardrobe—not a single embroidered cushion, Turkey carpet or wall hanging—it didn't feel cold or uninviting. The embers in the grate still glowed, effusing the room with warmth, and the last pale rays of daylight reached into even the furthest corner thanks to the large windows. She ran her hand along the top of one of the coffers, enjoying the feel of the cedar, worn smooth from years of use and polishing. The scent of cloves and something spicier lingered in the air.
"Is this where I am to sleep?" Pippa asked, wondering if she would be required to lie on a pallet on the floor. She was so tired she wouldn't mind curling up near the enormous fire as long as the straw mattress was clean.
"No, your room is through there." Gertie pointed to a door beside the stairwell entrance.
Pippa peeked inside. The room was tiny. A small trestle bed was pushed up against one wall and an oak chest squatted opposite. A single stool was situated to take in the view of the knot garden from the window.
"Peter's things are still here," Gertie said, opening the chest. She pulled out a garment in the Ashbourne colors of silver and green and held it up against Pippa. "He was about your height so his livery should fit. Everything'll be a bit big in the shoulders and legs but they'll do." She pulled it away but continued to scrutinize Pippa. "Get some of Cook's food into you and you'll soon be filling these out. His beef broth'll put hairs on your chest, mark my words."
"How...appetizing." Hairy chests notwithstanding, she'd been tall and slender ever since she'd reached womanhood and she didn't think she'd thicken out no matter what Cook concocted.
"Now," said Gertie, whisking Pippa out of her new room and back through the vast wardrobe, "through that door is the master's bedchamber."
Pippa nodded, growing curious about the earl even though she would never meet him. It must be the close proximity to all his things that made her wonder about their owner. "Can I ask you something?" she said.
"Of course." Gertie paused at the door to the master's chamber and crossed her arms in a way that pushed her large breasts up and out. Then she winked. "You can ask me anythin', Pip."
Pippa cleared her throat. Somehow she felt more in danger with this girl than she had in two days. "Is he feeble-minded? Or ugly? Or is he both perhaps?"
"Who?"
"The earl."
Gertie threw her head back and laughed, a high, nasally sound that ended with a snort. "He's very clever and one of the handsomest devils in London if you ask me. Why?"
Pippa shrugged. "Curiosity. He's not married and he's past the age that most men of noble birth are wed for the first time. Well past it, I believe."
"That is his lordship's business, not yours or mine, Pip," Gertie said with a wag of her finger. "Best not to wonder how your betters conduct their affairs. They're a mystery to me, especially this one." She stuck her thumb at the door leading to the backstairs.
At precisely that moment, it opened. Gertie gasped then quickly bobbed her head as she tucked her offending thumb into the folds of her apron. "My lord! You're not expected! I mean, I didn't know you were here."
Pippa froze as a man entered. Not just any man. Him. The rider. The one she'd angered in the field. And of all the cruel twists of Fate, it seemed he was the Earl of Ashbourne.
"My business finished earlier than expected," he said.
Pippa choked back her anguish. Dear God, I promise to attend church twice every Sunday if you strike me dead now!
Perhaps he wouldn't remember her. He was an earl after all, and she nothing but an ungainly youth. But when he looked at her, recognition flared.
"You again!" He made a sound—half grunt, half laugh, all humorless. "It seems our paths have crossed once more."
"So it would seem, my lord," she said, bowing low to hide her face which ran hot and cold.
"Are you going to fall in front of me again, lad?" he said. "Because you look quite ill."
"This here is Pip," Gertie said, nudging Pippa forward. "He's the new page of the wardrobe."
The earl cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Well, lad, I'm sorry."
"My lord?" Pippa dared to ask.
He smiled. "You'll see."
Pippa felt sick. Her stomach rolled, her skin felt cold and damp and she had to grip the back of a chair to steady herself. With any luck she was dying and her misery would soon be over.
But her luck had run out because Lord Ashbourne's smile broadened, leaving her with no doubt he was aware of her discomfort and enjoying it.
She had the distinct feeling her day was about to get a whole lot worse.
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