He pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket and consulted it. “That’s in less than two hours, Barlow.”
“Yes, Sir Edward, but Miss Alice—”
“Don’t mention her to me again, Barlow. I don’t want to talk about Miss Carstairs. From what I can see she has a great deal too much influence in this house.”
The Butler drew himself up as far as his stooped frame would allow. “Very well, Sir Edward. I’ll conduct you to your chamber.”
Edward could have sworn that the air in the room became even colder than it had been before. What had he done now to put the old fellow into such a pet? His new appointment couldn’t come soon enough. The faster he shook the dust of this place from his boots, the better.
An inkling of the problems facing him surfaced when he reached his bedchamber. Again, there was no fire and his baggage had not been unpacked. The bed was made up and the furniture dusted, but that was all. Barlow apologized as he lit a stub of a candle to disperse some of the gloom.
“I do beg your pardon, sir.” His rheumatic fingers began to fumble with the straps on one of the portmanteaux. “I’ll unpack for you at once. It slipped my mind.”
“What about my brother’s valet? Can’t he do this job?”
All he received was a shake of the head. “There is no valet, nor footman either.” Barlow had managed to open a portmanteau at last and was busily engaged in shaking out a clean shirt and a uniform dress coat. “There’s Cora, but she’s seeing to the baby right now.”
Exasperated, Edward took the coat from the old man and opened the door. “Thank you, Barlow. I can manage. My own man will arrive in a few days. I gave him leave to visit his family.”
“I’ll fetch up some wood for your fire, sir.”
Visions of the old man tottering up the stairs with an armful of wood filled Edward with alarm. This was ridiculous!
“You’ll do no such thing, Barlow. I told you, I can manage. Pray be so good as to ask Lady Masterman’s maid if I may speak with her ladyship for a few minutes.”
“There’s no lady’s maid. Took off in a huff, she did. There’s Cora, but—”
“I know, I know. She’s tending the baby. Who looks after Lady Masterman? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Can you manage to have some hot water sent up?”
As Barlow left to summon the hot water Edward wondered, not for the first time, what sort of madhouse he had stumbled into. What this place needed was some organization. With his sister-in-law indisposed the place had gone to ruin. Once he had sorted out the mess Gregory had left him he would bring some naval discipline to bear on this house and all the people in it. They needed bells and routines and yes, orders. Please God his new commission would arrive before too long, though. He would go mad if he had to kick his heels around this old ruin of a house with nothing to do.
Thinking was difficult. He didn’t want to think, not about the future. He’d been too busy for that right up until his departure the day before, until he’d seen the mastless hulk of what had once been his beautiful Seabird towed over to the wrecker’s yard. The only thing worse had been his farewells to his crew, shaking each one by the hand as they had preceded him onto the dock. The master, the carpenter and so many others had had tears in their eyes as they shuffled past. There wasn’t a name he didn’t remember as he wished them well.
They had stood on the dockside, every last jack of them, to line up and cheer him in farewell as his chaise pulled away. That last picture in his mind depressed him more than he could rightfully say.
By six fifteen his mood was worse than ever, if that was possible. Having eaten nothing since breakfast he was hungry. Stumbling around like a blind man with only the stub of a candle to light the way down the treacherous staircase he found the dining room, but there were no signs of activity. Perhaps a table had been laid for him in the morning room, or even the book room. Nothing. In utter frustration he pulled the bell cord and waited.
A frightened housemaid answered his summons. This would be Cora, no doubt. She looked like she had an attic to let.
“When and where, if you please, is dinner to be served?”
Edward wasn’t aware of shouting, but the maid shrank as she trembled noticeably before him. Her vacant stare fixed on everything but him.
“Mr. Barlow is trying to cook it now, sir. Only…only he doesn’t know how to peel the potatoes right and the baby is screaming and Miss Penelope, she threw the soup at me so Miss Alice took her to bed.”
“But what of the cook? What is she doing?”
Cora looked more nervous than ever. “There ain’t no cook. Miss Alice, she’s been doing the cooking and looking after the baby and her ladyship and the laundry and everything, but she says she’s not allowed to do that now, because Miss Penelope needs to be looked after first.”
Edward felt like clutching his hair. It was a worse madhouse than he had first thought, if that was possible. But had he made a terrible mistake? Perhaps this Alice Carstairs wasn’t like his old nurse after all. He’d rushed to judge her based on nothing but his prejudice. And he prided himself on his fairness!
“Take me to the kitchen. What in God’s name has been happening here?”
Completely out of his depth, Barlow sat at the scrubbed table amid utter chaos. Chicken feathers scattered the room, decorating every flat surface. A large cast-iron pot bubbled and spurted on the range, emitting a plume of steam and gouts of water, which hissed against the fire. From the looks of things, it contained the unfortunate chicken. A hideous smell of burnt vegetables filled the room. Edward stared horrified as Barlow attempted to scrape a blackened mass out of another pot in front of him.
The butler caught sight of his new master. “Oh, sir, please allow me to send for Miss Alice,” he begged. “Else we are none of us going to have any supper tonight.”
Striding to the stove, Edward snatched at the pot, only to yank his hand away just as quickly.
“Damnation! That’s hot.” Looking round, he found a rag to protect his hand and finally rescued the chicken, which was in imminent danger of going the same way as the potatoes. Once the bird was safe he opened the kitchen door and dealt in a very summary manner with the charred vegetables, pot and all.
“For God’s sake, Barlow, why didn’t you tell me?”
The butler wrung his hands. “You wouldn’t listen, sir. Miss Alice has saved us all these past four months or more. If she packed her trunks and left this house in the morning I wouldn’t blame her. It would serve you right. Only she can’t do it. She hasn’t been paid what’s she’s owed and she has no money, like the rest of us. There’s no food, no coal, no candles and nobody to do the work. Sir Gregory promised me a pension if I’d stay after Cook died and what did I get? Nothing. He’s brought this house to ruination, Sir Gregory has and all of us with it.”
There were tears in the butler’s eyes as he finished his impassioned speech. Turning away in mortification he tried to choke down his emotion “I beg your pardon sir, I should never have spoken like that. I shouldn’t have said anything, only…” He stopped, desolate.
Edward understood. Only you’re old and tired and hungry, he thought. And I have treated you abominably. I’ve taken out my own disappointment on you and on the governess who has been guilty of doing nothing but her best.
Filled with shame, Edward laid a hand on his shoulder and steered the old man back to a chair by the fire.
“Cora, fetch Miss Carstairs at once.” He waited until she fled the room. In a much gentler voice he addressed the butler. “I beg your pardon, Barlow. You’re right. I didn’t understand. I’ve done you all an injustice. Have no fear, I’ll set everything to rights.”
He cast a rueful eye around the kitchen. “Well, perhaps not everything. We must hope that Miss Carstairs will take pity on us and forgive my detestable behavior. Let’s see what can be done about these chicken feathers before she gets here, shall we?”
Alice acknowledged a feeling of trepidation as she approach
ed the kitchen. It had been petty of her to allow Barlow to face Sir Edward’s wrath and nothing less than childish to have obliged the butler to try and cook the dinner. Heaven knew that Cora was no help whatsoever. If it were only herself to think about, or the captain, she would have refused to leave Penelope. Unfortunately Lavinia, Barlow and Cora needed to eat. She paused to take a deep breath before opening the kitchen door. There was no denying the fact that her knees were trembling. She could stand his anger, but his contempt had been too much to bear.
She would be polite. Distant, but polite. Silently, she gave herself instructions how to deal with the situation. Wait to speak until spoken to, Alice, as was proper for a servant. Proffer no opinions, or advice. Do as you’re told and nothing more.
The scene that met her astonished eyes sent all of her resolves winging into the night. It was all she could do not to laugh out loud. Sir Edward and the butler were engaged in collecting white feathers, but as fast as they gathered a pile a draught would sweep them into the air again. The heavy blue broadcloth of Sir Edward’s uniform was liberally adorned, as was his hair and even one eyebrow. Barlow looked little better. He attempted to stuff a fistful of feathers into a sack, only to have more escape as he withdrew his hand and they clung to his coat sleeve. The smell of burned feathers mingled with that of burned potatoes. In short, all was confusion.
“May I suggest a wet cloth?”
Sir Edward whirled around to look at her and promptly caused another flurry in the room. Alice lost no time in finding a rag in the scullery and dipping it into the water barrel. Almost magically the feathers clung as she dusted, restoring the room to order faster than even she’d believed possible. In no more than a few minutes there wasn’t a trace of a feather. Well, almost none.
Barlow dispensed with the offending items from his master’s coat, but he missed one.
“If you’ll pardon me, Sir Edward.” Alice reached up to remove a clinging piece of down from his hair. Too late she realized the impropriety of her actions. The captain reacted swiftly to trap her hand in his own. He looked down into her eyes for a moment, saying nothing. Alice held her breath. His hand felt warm and hard against her own. His look pierced her as he stared down at her. Was he angry again? Furious with her for her forwardness? Warmth radiated from her captured hand as she stared at him. What was she to think about this man?
Suddenly the austere expression cracked. Just for an instant, a smile of pure amusement leapt into his eyes, spreading light like the dawn over Priory Water.
“I must resemble a ragamuffin, Miss Carstairs.” He let go her hand as quickly as he grasped it. “I would prefer to rectify the problem myself, however. You’re not to wait on me.”
Feeling as if something had just happened, but also somewhat rebuffed, Alice dropped a tiny curtsy. “As you wish, sir.”
Edward was out of his depth and swimming against the tide. He’d never had dealings with women before, or not women of quality, at any rate. Wharfside doxies hardly counted. He continued to regard her with a steady gaze. How did one talk to them? Should he kiss her hand? Grovel? Well, he only knew one way. It would have to do. He settled for a bow.
“What I wish, Miss Carstairs, is that you’ll accept my apology for my unwarranted behavior. My recollections of this house led me to jump to conclusions, which were as erroneous as they were offensive. I beg your pardon. I’m sincerely sorry. I know I have offended you deeply without reason.”
Well, what a handsome apology, with Barlow and Cora looking on as well. The captain rose markedly in Alice’s estimation as she bestowed a smile on him.
“In that case, Sir Edward, the matter is forgotten. Let’s turn our energies to our dinner. What is left of it, that is. Would you care to return to the book room while I see what I can do?”
He gave no immediate answer save to unbutton his dress coat and shrug himself out of it. Alice felt bewildered for a few moments. Was he making sure all the feathers were gone before he returned upstairs?
He flashed a brief smile once again at her expression. “All hands on deck, Miss Carstairs. I’m at your command.”
Oh, goodness! He meant it. Once Alice recovered from her astonishment and found a spare apron to cover his immaculate waistcoat and breeches matters were very soon accomplished. With the captain set to peeling their few remaining potatoes, Cora and Alice turned the chicken out of the pot and made a soup with the stock, the giblets and one of the ever-present turnips. Barlow prepared a cabbage, following Alice’s exact instructions. Not more than an hour late, the meal was ready. Cora carried a tray up to Lady Masterman and Alice hurried to lay a place in the dining room.
“Where will you be eating your meal, Miss Carstairs?”
Alice jumped and looked over her shoulder. She hadn’t realized Sir Edward had entered the room behind her. It took her a moment to compose her thoughts. He could have been a different person from the man who had just peeled a pan of potatoes. It was so difficult to know where she stood with him. She would never have believed he could shed his dignity like his coat and work in the kitchen and then don it so easily again. She wasn’t sure whether she liked him for it or not. Was he now inviting her to dine with him?
“Usually I supervise Penelope’s supper, unless Lady Masterman requires my company.”
“I don’t believe you’ve answered my question, ma’am. I prefer you to be direct.”
Well, that certainly wasn’t the reply of a man angling for a dinner companion. She turned to look squarely at him. “Very well, Sir Edward, this evening I’ll eat in the kitchen with the rest of the servants. Ah, here’s Barlow with the soup. If you’ll excuse me, please, I must attend to the baby.”
Now she’d annoyed him again. She could tell that he tried to keep his face impassive, but already she could detect a certain hardening of the set of his lips when he was displeased.
“Why do you persist in referring to her in that fashion? Surely the infant has a name? She’s a human being, after all.”
Alice felt like stamping her foot. No, she’d like to kick his shin. He’d apologized for one mistake, but insisted on making another just like it.
“There’s little I can do, sir. Lady Masterman has not had sufficient time, it being only three weeks since the birth, nor does she have enough interest in the child to think of a suitable name for her. Penelope calls her the brat if that’s of any help to you.” Her voice broke, just a little, but she recovered her composure quickly. “For myself, I call her Angel, but that’s quite beside the point.”
Leaving him once again speechless, Alice withdrew.
When Barlow returned to the kitchen after serving Sir Edward his meal, his expression revealed little.
“I’m to request you to give Sir Edward the pleasure of an interview at your earliest convenience tomorrow. He said nine o’clock, in the book room.”
Alice debated for a moment or two. Had she gone too far once again? “Is he out of charity with me, Barlow?”
The butler shrugged. “It wouldn’t be my place to presume to guess his emotions, Miss Alice, but he’s looking black as thunder right now.”
“Perhaps it would be best if I didn’t keep him waiting, then.” Alice crossed to the crib by the fire. “Come on, Angel, let’s go and see if Lavinia will allow you to have your supper, now that she has finished hers. Perhaps I can persuade your wicked uncle to engage a wet nurse for you. He seems to be concerned for your welfare, after all.”
As Alice entered her cousin’s bedchamber with the baby, she was met with a wail of complaint. She had to resist the urge to turn on her heel and march straight back out again.
“Oh, Alice, where have you been? You’ve given me no consideration whatsoever today.”
Lavinia lay on her bed with the remains of her supper on a tray in front of her. Her plump pretty face was disfigured by the scowl that had taken up residence long before her husband’s death. For months, she’d lived on the expectation of producing a son. Incapable of recognizing the alteratio
ns in her circumstances, she still seemed to see herself as the most important person in the whole county.
Just when was Lavinia going to make some sort of effort to rouse herself? Her troubles weren’t going to go away merely because she hid from them and the constant demands for attention were draining on all of them. Whether she liked it or not she was going to have to receive her brother-in-law very soon and surely it was in her own best interests to at least be conciliating with him.
“Lavinia, you must know that Sir Edward has arrived. I told you so myself. He ordered me to attend to Penelope.”
“But I am your employer! My wishes must come first.”
Alice just looked at her. She bit back the first hot rejoinder and took a deep breath. “How can I make you understand? You don’t have any money. We are all of us dependent on your brother-in-law now and it would be extremely foolish for us, for any of us, to antagonize him.”
Lavinia allowed the ever-ready tears to flow once again. “You’re so cruel. I shall never recognize him! My darling Gregory never mentioned his name. He’s nothing but an interloper.”
What was Alice to do with this woman? She was impossible. Darling Gregory, indeed. She’d done nothing but scream at him like a fishwife. “Sir Edward is now the owner of the bed in which you lie. He could turn you out into the street tomorrow, if he so wished. You must recognize him, if you expect to retain even a modicum of comfort.”
A sudden idea leapt into Alice’s head. “I’m going to speak to him tomorrow regarding a wet nurse.”
“Thank heaven for that! I feel like a cow.”
A host of uncharitable responses burst into Alice’s brain, but she did her best to ignore them.
“Yes, you must be uncomfortable. I’ll give the baby to you now and you’ll be able to sleep tonight. In the morning we’ll get you out of bed and ready to receive Sir Edward.”
“If he will only save me from this wretched nursing, I’ll do anything!” declared her ladyship with an air of the greatest heroism.
Wretched nursing, indeed! Alice sighed. She would never be in a position to have a baby nurse at her breast. The thought filled her with a profound sadness and an aching longing. Could not her cousin see how she’d been truly blessed? Poor little Angel, to have such a mother.
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