How to Impress a Gentleman

by Allie Borne

  Meanwhile, Lindsay sat curled around her pillow in the corner of the coach, unable to summon tears. Red heat scratched up her sides, pooling under her arms and at the back of her eyelids. She was furious, but did not quite feel any gut-writhing betrayal at Charles’ actions. It was so unlike him to act out of hand, without considering the others involved, she thought, so, why had he sent Betty away? He had said he could take care of her... That was it! Peeling off her riding jacket, Lindsay sat up in the jostling vehicle.

  Charles is accustomed to taking care of himself, and now that I am a Donovan, he will naturally wish to establish himself as my caregiver. What a lummox! She understood his sensitivity as she had overheard Charles tell Aiden of the disrepair of his new estate. She would likely have to go without for a while until the new repairs started to turn a profit.

  This was cause for some mild concern. Normally she would not care, but Lindsay would need some gowns for the season one year from now. If Charles could not provide them, she would be asking her father to do so. Nothing would stand in the way of her sister’s come out. Thus resolved, Lindsay again curled upon the bench, resting her head on her down pillow and wrapping her beloved grey knit blanket around her legs, she drifted off to sleep the moment her eyelids fully closed.

  ~ ~ ~

  Eventually the lulling rock of the carriage, as it rolled in and out of the road’s various ruts and divots, slowed and ceased. Lindsay roused from her slumber and sat up to rub her gurgling stomach. “I am famished!” she explained to the empty seat across from her. It’s plump, red cushion only absorbed her words, unconcerned. Quickly repinning her bonnet, Lindsay scrambled from the carriage and pulled out the heavy picnic basket.

  While Harry was tending to the horses, Charles’ valet, John, was laying out two wool blankets. Seeing her hefting the awkward basket, John ran over to assist. They efficiently laid out a serviceable repast of cold chicken, rolls, and tea. Harry and John sat on one blanket, eating contentedly. On the other blanket, Lindsay settled herself with a chicken thigh and began to look about for Charles.

  “Sir Charles forgot something in Bakersfield and had to go back. He said he would catch up,” John explained, offering a wide grin of encouragement. His thick, white-blonde hair pulled from his cue and hung about his lean, chiseled features. Leah would be taken with that one, Linnie thought wistfully, if it weren’t for the fact he could not afford to keep a goat, much less a wife... Where is Charles?

  Lindsay surprised herself as tears sprung to her eyes. Why was she so forlorn? She felt alone and vulnerable, unneeded, unloved. She was typically an independent person, but when it came to Charles, she always benefited from his reassurance. She needed him here right now, so soon after she had given herself to him, so soon after the onset of their marriage. Having let herself succumb to him so readily after he had blatantly betrayed her and her mother, she reviled herself for being fickle.

  John picked up on her fragile state and set out to distract her. “Have you ever played ‘Yes or No’, My Lady?”

  “N-no. I do not believe so.”

  “Would you like to? Harry and I were just about to start up a game, were we not, Harry?”

  “Certain, we were,” Harry grinned, transparently catching on to the ploy.

  “Now, the way this game works,” explained John, “is you think of something, and we must ask only yay or nay questions to discover of what item you are thinking.”

  “Sounds like a jolly good game,” Lindsay grinned at Harold’s lopsided smile and rousing to the competition called out, “I have it! You may ask your questions, fine sirs.”

  “Is it an animal?” asked Harry, hopefully.

  Lindsay shook her head.

  “Is it a plant?” asked John, scanning their surroundings for inspiration.

  “No again,” Lindsay laughed.

  “A person, then?” John queried.

  “Yes, a person.”

  “Sir Charles!” crowed Harry, so certain of his young mistress’s thoughts.

  “Oh, don’t be so droll, no!” Lindsay responded, rolling her eyes.

  A short silence ensued before John asked, “Is it a female person?”

  “Aye! A female.”

  “Is it a specific person?”

  “No, not specific...”

  “A girl, what does a job, then?

  “Yes, Harry,” laughed Linnie, now fully engaged in the game, “you are getting closer!”

  “A lady’s maid,” called a deeply melodic voice, high behind their backs. “You are thinking of a lady’s maid to fix that disaster of a hair style you have fashioned, am I right?”

  Looking over her shoulder, the sun shown gold in Lindsay’s eyes. Had Diamond been a white horse, Lindsay would have been tempted to liken Charles’ figure to that of Apollo, bringer of the sun. Hadn’t it just been hazy and nearing a drizzle before he’d flown up on his magnificent beast? The thrill that his appearance sent through her left her at a loss for how to react. She wished to scream like a harpy, scratching his eyes out for abandoning her. Equally strong was her urge to run, like a faithful wife, to wrap her arms around his neck and shower him with kisses. Such emotions he sent screaming through her!

  She gave none of this away, thankfully. After all, her Adonis had been baiting her from the school room, teaching her well to restrain her excessive tendencies and avoid encouraging his exasperating behaviors. In the end, she simply responded, “You are correct, Sir,” and smiled politely. “I was thinking of a lady’s maid. My preoccupation is for the sake of others, however, not for myself. Seeing as how I haven’t a looking glass, those who surround me must suffer from your neglect, not I.”

  She was instantly sorry the moment the caustic sound of the words returned to her own ears. How could she speak so, and in front of servants? And One her father’s servant, at that!

  “Oh, Charles,” she said as she rose from the ground, “I am not in earnest. Please let us not quarrel, let me kiss you and be forgiven!”

  Charles was heartened by Linnie’s display of affection. Sweeping her up in one arm, he dipped her back and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. “Lindsay, we must talk.”

  “No, let us eat. We can talk well enough in the carriage, on our way to our new home. I am eager to see it.”

  “Well, it is just that I had hoped to arrive at Braxton Hall before you. As I was not expecting to wed so soon, we currently have only a skeleton staff. It will take them some time to prepare our beds, and a hot meal. I would like to have it ready for you when you arrive.”

  “Beds?”

  “You will want your bedroom aired out, will you not?”

  “My Bedroom?”

  “Oh, well, our bedroom, I meant, unless you would like a separate room? I could arrange to have one built. The manor is not so up-to-date as to have separate rooms.”

  “No, I do not wish separate rooms, Charles, only for our servants. Are there rooms for them? What is the layout of the house?”

  Hesitating, Charles formed his words carefully. “There is a fine entryway, with room to add mirrors and a hat stand. This opens into four rooms and a stairwell. The first room on the left is the sitting room. The second room is the parlor. On the right, the first room is the dining hall and the second is the butler’s quarters. On the living level, to the right of the main stair, are two small guest rooms. Then, on the right of the hallway is the master bedroom. Across from this room is a slightly larger guest room, boasting a small closet. At the far end of the hall is a nursery. Above the bedrooms sits a large attic, that will be fashioned into two separate quarters, when need be, to accommodate our personal servants.

  “There are two outer houses that hold our kitchens, laundry, and household staff. We have accommodations for the maid, laundress, and cook. There are rooms for the stable hands within the stable. I shall have to build another outbuilding, for the addition of a manager, in the event that we turn a profit enough to require one. Until that time, I fear I shall serve as the farm manager and y
ou as the head of the house.”

  “Oh, that sounds lovely, Charles. The manor seems as if it will be large enough for comfort but quaint enough to run properly with a small staff.”

  “Aye and as we have such a small staff at present, I shall immediately endeavor to check with the surrounding tenants for any available persons.”

  “I see. Well, I assume that Harry and John can get me there just as well.”

  And that was that. Grabbing a chicken leg and a hasty afterthought of a kiss to his wife, he was off again, traveling with the speed of light. As he departed the sky seemed to dim and the clouds creep in again.

  ~ ~ ~

  Hot, tired, and unsettled, Linnie wiped her temple free of sweat with a forearm. Slumping in the side saddle, she pulled a handkerchief from her bosom and dabbed at her neck and chest. How much further from town could Braxton Hall be? As if reading her thoughts, John turned to claim, “The manor is just another mile around this bend, My Lady,”

  Inclining her head, Lindsay sighed as she repositioned herself and the reigns. Clucking to Doc, she resumed the leisurely pace towards her new home. Breathing deeply to calm a racing heart, Lindsay began to imagine her arrival. She pictured how she might appear to her new staff, approaching in such a state of disarray, and atop a virtual work horse, to boot! Her mouth grew dry and her ears pink.

  “John!” she called, “I have changed my mind. I would like to arrive in the coach after all.”

  “Yes, My Lady, but we will be there in a matter of a few minutes. If you are fatigued it might make more sense to-”

  “No,” she interrupted emphatically, “I would like to appear as lady of the house, in the manner in which my servants expect. I will climb down to the creek here and freshen up. If you would be so good as to stop the coach, when it approaches, John? Thank you.”

  Ignoring the distressed look plastered upon John’s features, Linnie turned and picked her way down the embankment. Groaning and tugging at her thick habit as it caught on brambles, weeds, and holly bushes, Lindsay freed herself suddenly at the opening to the creek and skidded to a halt. Allowing water to lightly lick her boots, she squatted to cup the quenching liquid in her delicate hands. Splashing the refreshing coolness against her eyelids and cheeks, Lindsay smiled in relief. After rewetting and smoothing her hair, she climbed and pulled her way up the embankment, with the aid of several thick weeds as leverage.

  Upon reaching the road, Lindsay had just enough time to straighten her blouse and short jacket before the carriage pulled up alongside of her. Without even waiting for one of the men to assist her, Lindsay opened the door and stepped up into the coach. Silently harnessing Doc to the back of his own saddle, John shook his head, disgruntled. Twice he walked toward the door of the coach and twice he walked back to his horse.

  Should he enlighten Lady Donovan about what she was to find at the manor? No, better leave that to a discussion between man and wife. She would find out soon enough and he would prefer not to be the one facing her when she began demanding explanations.

  Pulling up the tree-lined lane, Lindsay gasped at the grand beauty of the estate. Certain, the grounds were overgrown but they were open and green and would be splendid, when the gardener could be taken well in hand. And the house! Why, it was broad and tall and looked to be made of a dazzlingly light stone. Her excitement and amazement soon turned to shock and dismay as the full reality of the home’s structure came into focus. Nearly all of the windows were boarded up. The cracks in the wood showed clearly that no glass stood behind their cover. The once grand stairway was cracked and broken. What had appeared to be a brilliant stone, revealed itself to be a peeling, crumbling mortar and some spotty white lichen that had taken inhabitance across the manor’s facade.

  “The grounds keeper can surely maintain the property better than this!” Lindsay scolded softly to herself. She was too much stunned by her new home’s derelict nature to notice that no staff had vacated the building to greet their new mistress. She was confronted by that fact, however, when John was obliged to knock on the front door. Removing herself from the stifling cabin, Lindsay joined him on the porch. It was a full five minutes before a haggard, decrepit looking man answered the door.

  “Oh, tis you, John. I was out at the back, seeing to killing a rooster for tonight’s supper. If you can tend to the horses, I suppose I can show the Missus up to her room.”

  Straightening herself up to her full five foot two, Lindsay offered a gloved hand to the only servant she saw in evidence. “You must be the butler, Bernard, I presume. I am Lady Donovan.”

  Bernard looked at her hand as if she were presenting him with a cold fish and simply nodded. “If you’ll just follow me, Miss, I will show you to your rooms. Then, I will be needing to get back to preparing our dinner.”

  Lindsay bristled at the deliberate omission of her title. Pulling her riding jacket down sharply, she retained her composure. “Yes, well, if you would be so kind as to assemble the staff, first, I should think, so that I might meet everyone at once, it might be a more efficient use of our time. I am perfectly willing to wait.”

  “Staff? Oh, you mean Betsy. Bet-sy!” he bellowed up the brittle old staircase, “The new master’s wife would like to get a look at ye!”

  Startled by the complete lack of couth, Lindsay struggled to find her bearings. It seemed as if she had entered into a bizarre new world with odd customs, standards, and expectations.

  “I must be dreaming,” she told herself as she watched a portly ‘Betsy’ bobble down the stairway towards her.

  Giving a tiny dip of a curtsey, Betsy mumbled, “Nice to meet you ma’am,” and silently waited to be dismissed. No, not a dream, a waking nightmare! This could not be happening, she thought, as she stared at the distracted, disheveled young woman.

  Betsy’s hair floated about her face, sticking to her cheeks and temples, where a distracted forearm had plastered it to her sweat-soaked face. Her not-so-white apron, wrinkled from several hand wipes, added a lumpy appearance to her round midriff. Yet, Lindsay noted approvingly, her skin was clear and pink and her teeth white. The dust and grim upon her were the result of a day’s worth of cleaning and not a neglect of personal hygiene.

  “This is the housekeeper, Ms. Thomas, and I am the butler, groundskeeper, and cook. We have been the sole care takers of this place for the last five years, since Old Master lost his health and had to lay off the rest of the staff.”

  “We have not been paid in two years, either, Ma’am.” chimed in Ms. Thomas, “Not that we’re complainin’.” she quickly added. “Here now, let me take your bag and show you to your room,” Betsy offered briskly, with a sincere, if tentative smile. “I have the master’s room yet to air afore bedtime and dishes to do, I’d wager, so if you wouldn’t mind directing your questions to his lordship, then maybe dinner can get on the table before midnight.”

  Lindsay gazed about her with a sinking heart. The exterior of the house had looked large and impressive but the reality was that the two wings of the house were boarded up. Only the center of the house was the slightest bit habitable. As Betsy led Linnie up the creaky old staircase, Lindsay had a moment in which she saw herself more clearly than she might have liked. All of her life, Lindsay had harbored a belief in herself as a philosophical individual. She was not superfluous. She cared not for material things or society’s strict constraints. Her wealth and reputation, or lack of it, were of no importance to her. Now, looking at her current living conditions, Lindsay began to question that image of herself.

  No, it wasn’t just for Leah that Lindsay had strained to create a comfortable and admirable existence for herself. In truth, Lindsay had selfishly aspired to carve out a coveted niche in society. There was no denying that she had no interest in living in this broken-down skeleton of a house, so far from civilization. It seemed she had escaped from one remote and lonely household, only to find herself in an even more reclusive setting.

  Her room, as she entered was clean enough, but ti
ny, with little light. There was barely enough space to reach the wash stand or use the chamber pot. She wandered what Charles’ room looked like and why she had yet to see him. “Betsy,” she called after the housekeeper, “could you tell me where to find Sir Charles?”

  “Jest up the stairs, there, to the left, Dear. He has taken over an attic room as a study while his rooms are being repaired.”

  Heaving a sigh, Lindsay took some moments, just standing in the center of her new room. She took stock. She had expected a shabby but classy home, one that would require some spit and polish but would be basically ready for entertaining within a fortnight. She had prepared herself for a staff of ten to twenty and had come home to two. She had not expected a large and airy suite of rooms after her exchange with Charlie, but she had envisioned a large master bedroom that she and Charles could share. Instead, here she was, feeling like the poor relation in her own house!

  No, she was not ready to face her husband. Too many questions floated through her mind. Taking off her riding jacket and laying it flat across the bed, Lindsay’s allowed her mind to wander. Surrounded by such dilapidation, it was hard not to dwell on the reasons she had come to be here in the first place.

  Charles, ever in need of funds, had established her as a limitless source of income. Had she not sold her own mount to fund his final year of university? Had he not abandoned her at the first flash of her father’s coin? And now? They were well and truly embroiled in a scandalous marriage pact because he had needed her dowry to fix up his family home. How could she not feel used? Never, thinking back, had their relationship ever been on equal footing.

  Always, she had chased after Charles, admiring and longing for his attention, as some sort of replacement for the fatherly affection she so needed. No more! But, her weak heart retorted, He must care more for me than that. After last night...Ha! her higher conscious countered. Any man will whisper sweet nothings in a girl’s ear in return for sporting bed play. Were her offerings in that regard really all that different than offering him her money?