A Beauty for the Scarred Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  The room was really rather small indeed, and her bed was pushed tight up against the wall on one side, with a small nightstand on the other. The nightstand was old but well-made from walnut wood. It was clearly something that had once been in use within the hall itself and, having seen better years, had been demoted to servants’ furniture.

  There was a small wooden stand, presumably to place a wash bowl upon, and a great chest of drawers of similar quality to the walnut nightstand but constructed of a dark oak. It was in perfect condition but was rather too large for the room, and its dark colour, coupled with the fact that all of the walls were painted in a seemingly miserable shade of green which reminded her of the attorney’s office, made the whole thing seem very dark and cramped.

  In the far corner of the room was a small table with a solitary wooden chair beside it. This would presumably be where she took her meals. Georgette let out a sigh; it looked so very lonely.

  There was a door leading to a small closet area which was just large enough for her to walk into and hang her gowns. The very moment she had been left alone in her room, Georgette had hastily unpacked her gowns and hung them for fear of creases that would never come out. Still, she had packed very carefully and was pleased to note that all of her gowns looked crisp and in good order.

  The only saving grace in the tiny room was an immense window which, when the heavy drapes were pulled back, allowed the early morning sunshine in. Georgette rather thought that it was the only thing which stopped the room feeling like a dark and dingy little coffin, and she quite wondered how she would manage in the winter when every day began in darkness.

  Still, she would not think of that, for the sun was shining, and she knew she must take from life whatever small pleasures it offered, even if the only pleasure was early morning sunlight.

  When Georgette had finally been taken to her small attic room the day before, she had not realized that she would be left there until the following day. She had been shown around the entire servants’ area by the butler, Mr Pearson, who had been taciturn one moment and pompous the next. Georgette could not help feeling that the man had continually tried to prove a point to her throughout their entire encounter.

  In truth, Georgette had been rather interested and somewhat amazed by the sheer size of the working area below stairs. The butler had seen fit to show her every bit of it, coal stores included.

  “Obviously, you have seen my office. And here, as you can see, is the housekeeper’s room. If you need to speak to anybody below stairs, it is to Mrs Griffin that you must first attend. Only come to my office if you cannot find Mrs Griffin.” As they moved from place to place, Georgette was struck by the very determined straight-backed walk of the butler. He held his head so high that it almost tipped backwards, giving the impression that he was looking up towards the ceiling.

  “Yes, of course,” Georgette said, not for the first time.

  Georgette had very much decided not to engage with the butler. She would not pander to his devastatingly large ego by asking him any questions. She would simply make a very good mental note of everything she discovered in case she did, indeed, ever need to go below stairs for anything. Still, quite why she would need to know where the larder and meat safe was, not to mention the coal stores and chicken sheds, was quite beyond her.

  “And here you see the butler’s pantry,” he said with something of a flourish. “It simply contains all of the serving equipment that is required to run a fine establishment such as Draycott Hall.” He held out an arm to indicate that she should go into the room and look around.

  In truth, Georgette had never seen such an array of serving platters, cutlery, and crockery. There was every conceivable item required to serve any manner of meal. And yet, despite her interest, Georgette still could not see quite why the butler would be so keen for her to see it all.

  “It truly is very well-stocked indeed,” Georgette said, for want of any other conversation to make.

  “Yes, but then this is the largest estate for many counties across,” he said as if her comment had been quite stupid. Georgette chose not to respond.

  “And this through here,” he said, striding down a somewhat wider corridor and pushing open the door into another room, “is the servants’ hall.”

  Georgette, following close behind, was truly amazed at the size of the servants’ hall. There were several long tables in the room, all neatly lined up like trestle tables at a county fair. Of course, the room would need to be large to accommodate meals for the alleged fifty members of staff.

  “This is where the servants take their meals and any other small breaks they are allotted,” he said, his tone rather pompous once again. “Of course, you shall not be taking your meals in here. As is proper, your meals shall be sent to your room, and you shall dine alone.”

  Georgette immediately recognized that his words were intended to hurt. He had taken something which might well have been expected to be a compliment of sorts, the fact that she would not be dining with the servants, and he had twisted it to place full emphasis upon the fact that Georgette would have no friends amongst the staff.

  His keenness to inform her of the fact in their first meeting gave her the dullest, emptiest feeling in her stomach. It felt almost like the dull and gentle pain of missing a meal and finding oneself really rather hungry. And yet, at that moment, she knew she could not have eaten a thing. What a spiteful man he was.

  “And the children?” Georgette said and immediately wished she had not.

  She knew that she had given the butler the upper hand by letting him know that she did not relish the idea of isolation.

  “They shall eat with the nurse, obviously. They do not take meals with His Grace.” Again, he spoke to her in a manner which suggested he thought her entirely stupid.

  “Indeed,” Georgette said flatly and turned to walk out of the servants’ hall.

  “Down here,” the butler said, hurrying to overtake her, clearly wrong-footed by the fact that he had been forced to follow her and not the other way around. “At the very end of this particular corridor, you will find the servants’ quarters. Most of the servants sleep down here with just a few in attic rooms. Of course, the ones who do sleep in attic rooms are on the east side of the building, whereas you yourself shall be on the west.”

  “Of course,” Georgette said, choosing not to rise to his provocation any more.

  So, she would be eating alone, sitting alone night after night in an attic room set far apart from any others and devoid of any human contact save for that of her small charges and possibly the nurse. Well, it was simply something that she would have to get used to and, if she could not, then the butler would be the very last person to hear about it.

  “So, now that you know where everything is, I shall return to my own duties and leave you to make your way to the housekeeper’s room for further instruction,” he said and, with a curt nod, turned to stride away from her.

  For a moment, Georgette’s heart began to thud. She had wanted to tell the pompous Mr Pearson that she had absolutely no idea how to find her way back to the housekeeper’s room. Her tour of below stairs had been speedy and very far from methodical, an approach which she felt to have been entirely purposeful.

  Clearly, the butler had wanted to make a fool of her. He had wanted her to run after him and admit that she could not quite remember where the housekeeper’s room was. Well, he would have a long wait if he thought that that was going to happen. Taking a deep breath and, not the first time that day, straightening her spine, Georgette strode back along the corridor in the hope that she would very soon recognize the door to the housekeeper’s room. Of course, to her, all of the doors looked the same.

  After just a few minutes, Georgette’s resolve had dissipated entirely. She seemed to continually pass maids and smartly dressed male servants, all of whom kept their eyes focused firmly on the gray flagstones as they passed her. Not one of them would look in her direction, not even to nod a silent
greeting.

  Finally, she saw the smartly liveried uniform of the footman who had helped to carry in her large wooden trunk. Feeling a little relieved, she smiled and approached him.

  “Would you be so kind as to show me where the housekeeper’s room is?” Georgette said as he regarded her coolly.

  “It is that way,” he said with the vaguest nod of his head before turning and walking away.

  None the wiser, Georgette let out a great sigh. What a hateful household this was. Did not one of them below stairs have the presence of mind to act on their own accord and not simply be spiteful upon demand?

  Well, if that were as much as she could expect from her fellow employees, Georgette would be pleased to eat alone and have nothing to do with them. Feeling antagonized made her feel suddenly purposeful also, and she began to stride through the corridors, pushing doors open and looking inside without a moment’s apology to whomever she found within.

  Finally, using just such an approach, she located the housekeeper’s room.

  “Mrs Griffin, Mr Pearson has sent me back to you,” Georgette said with a level voice.

  “Yes, I am to take you now to your room,” Mrs Griffin said, rising to her feet and moving around the desk she had been sitting at as if she had been seemingly looking at receipts.

  “Thank you,” Georgette said, keen to keep any hint of attempted friendliness out of her voice.

  The servants’ staircase was located quite centrally, and one was able to go from the basement to the attics without happening upon a member of the household. It was with some relief that Georgette realized that the route from the top of the servants’ staircase to her own little room in the attic was a very simple one, and it went some way to giving her a sense of having her bearings if only just a little.

  “This is your room,” Mrs Griffin said, pushing the door open and allowing Georgette to enter first.

  “How lovely,” Georgette said, again giving nothing away in her tone.

  “Well, at least you do not have to share as many of the servants do.” The tone of Mrs Griffin’s voice led Georgette to very much realize that the servants’ rooms, and possibly Mrs Griffin’s room itself, were very much inferior to the one that she would inhabit.

  “Quite so.”

  “I think you have everything you need here,” Mrs Griffin said, clearly a little upended by Georgette’s very short and succinct response. “And through that door, there is a small hanging closet for your gowns,” she said, and then looked significantly at the large wooden trunk.

  No doubt she thought that the new governess had far too many personal possessions. Still, that was something that Mrs Griffin would have to come to terms with without any input from Georgette. Not one hour into her new employment, and already Georgette was entirely tired of everybody she had so far met at Draycott Hall.

  “It would be as well if you simply stayed in your room for the rest of the day, Miss Darrington.”

  “Why?” Georgette asked coolly.

  “Because you are not due to meet His Grace until ten o’clock tomorrow. Dinner will soon be served and, since you are taking yours in your room, then you might just as well be here to receive it.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Once your dinner things are taken, there really is nothing left for you to do today.”

  “And who is to take me to His Grace tomorrow?”

  “I shall be taking you.”

  “And shall you be collecting me from here or should I make my way downstairs?”

  “There shall be no need for you to leave your room until I collect you. A jug of warm water and a bowl will be left on the small table outside your room at seven o’clock. At eight o’clock, your breakfast will be left on that table and the jug collected. And a few minutes before ten o’clock, I shall come to collect you.”

  “Thank you,” Georgette said, feeling a little trapped by the idea that she would be keeping to her room the rest of the afternoon, through the night, and into the next morning.

  “I am sure that Mr Pearson has told you that there are no other members of staff sleeping in this part of the attic. They are quite on the other side of the house. However, His Grace inhabits rooms below this part of the attic, and so you would be advised to tread very carefully. He is not keen to hear noise and would certainly be most disappointed to hear anything at all coming from your room. Please take care not to make too much noise.”

  “Yes, of course,” Georgette said, looking at the woman incredulously. Quite what noise she thought Georgette might make in the middle of the night was beyond her.

  “Well, I shall leave you. Dinner will be served in about two hours.” And with that, Mrs Griffin turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Georgette entirely alone.

  Want to read the rest of the story? Check out the book on Amazon!

  Also, please turn the page to find a special gift from me!

  Sign up for my mailing list to be notified of hot new releases and get my latest Full-Length Novel “Honorable Rosalind’s Heart” (available only to my subscribers) for FREE!

  Click the link or enter it into your browser

  http://bridgetbarton.com/sxez