A Lady's Honor

by A. S. Fenichel

  Phoebe’s mother had written about Emma’s daughter, Elizabeth, being raised mostly by servants, but this was ridiculous. Elizabeth continued to wail as if being beaten with a stick and Mrs. Donnelly shushed her to no avail. Elizabeth grabbed a handful of Mrs. Donnelly’s hair and they both shrieked until Phoebe’s ears hurt.

  “You might try back at another time, Miss Hallsmith.” Sweat dripped down the side of Watson’s long face.

  Phoebe had a hundred questions, but would get no answers with the servants. What started as worry grew into annoyance, and she had to swallow down her emotions to remain calm. She turned to Mrs. Donnelly. “Madam, give me that child before she does you real harm.”

  Never had a woman of such girth moved with such speed. She foisted Elizabeth into Phoebe’s arms. “It’s not Little Elizabeth’s fault, Miss. She misses her father and he—”

  “That will do, Mrs. Donnelly.” Watson’s scolding tone stopped any further explanation and started the maid crying again.

  Phoebe propped Elizabeth on her hip. “You are far too small to be causing so much chaos. I cannot imagine what your sweet momma is thinking looking down on you. Now I expect you to act like a little lady.”

  Just like her father, Elizabeth had large green eyes, and they were wide open staring at Phoebe. A black smudge marred her left cheek and some kind of jelly stuck all around her rosy lips and pert little nose.

  “She doesn’t speak, my lady, though we try to teach her,” Mrs. Donnelly said.

  At two years old, Elizabeth should have some vocabulary. Phoebe’s heart clenched. She should have come sooner. Of course, that hadn’t been an option, but it did not soothe her guilt. “Well, we need no words for the moment. I’m sure when Miss Elizabeth has something important to say, she will do so. I do not go by a title any longer. Miss Hallsmith will do.”

  Elizabeth relaxed and her little body conformed to Phoebe’s side as if they were two parts of a whole.

  “You know, your mother and I were very good friends, Elizabeth. I think that you and I will be as well, but you must behave with more manners. Shall we go see your father?”

  A wide smile showed off several teeth and brought a lovely pink to her sweet cheeks.

  Watson stepped forward but kept enough distance as to not fall into Elizabeth’s reach. “That’s what started all of this, Miss. I’m afraid his lordship does not wish to see…anyone.”

  A low growl issued from deep in Elizabeth’s chest.

  Taking another step back, Watson paled.

  “Ladies do not growl, Elizabeth. Where is his lordship?” Phoebe had spent years reining in her temper and learning to act like a lady even when she wanted to tear someone’s hair out. It was becoming obvious that she would need to use all she had learned to get through the next few moments.

  “In the study, but as I said, Miss Hallsmith, he does not wish to be disturbed.” Watson held out his arms blocking her way.

  Lifting Elizabeth higher on her hip, Phoebe turned toward the study. “I could not possibly care less about what his lordship wants. Lady Chervil, will you please wait here and explain our purpose?”

  Honoria’s chest puffed out as she lifted her shoulders and double chin. “I will be happy to, Miss Hallsmith.”

  Phoebe strode past Watson to the door and pushed through.

  The enormous desk that Emma had purchased as a wedding gift for Markus took up most of the room. Phoebe’s heart broke at the memory of how proud her friend had been of the custom-made gift. She had thought the sun rose with her husband, and the two had been the perfect couple. Wood, though dusty, paneled three walls while one boasted three large bookcases separated by two benches. A musty odor, from disuse and lack of cleaning, tickled Phoebe’s nose.

  Markus faced the cloudy window overlooking the side garden. “I do not wish to be disturbed. Go away.”

  The petulance of his tone only raised Phoebe’s ire. Behavior of that sort should be disregarded, even if on the inside she seethed. Placing Elizabeth on the floor, Phoebe said, “That is too bad, my lord, as you have company who will not be turned aside. I am here on business.”

  His chair scraped across the wood floor as he stood and turned. He narrowed green eyes, shadowed with dark rings and sunken into pale skin, and he swayed. The strong, handsome man Emma had loved and married was no longer present in Markus Flammel.

  Elizabeth froze.

  Phoebe propped her fists on her hips and met his gaze.

  “Phoebe Hallsmith?”

  She dropped her hands and fell into a polite curtsy. “My lord.”

  “What are you doing here? Emma is gone.”

  His raised voice brought a whimper from poor Elizabeth who shrunk back and hid her face in Phoebe’s skirt.

  Turning, Phoebe called out the study door. “Mrs. Donnelly?”

  Still frazzled and tattered, the housekeeper poked her head in the door. “Miss?”

  “Please take Miss Elizabeth to the kitchen and see if Cook has a nice biscuit for her. Then see that her hands and face are washed before you bring her back here to visit with her father.”

  Mrs. Donnelly’s face went white and she stiffened. “Little Elizabeth does not care for face washing.”

  “Do not tell me you are afraid of that child, Madam. I will not hear of it. Miss Elizabeth will be happy for the cookie and act the proper lady when it is time to wash. Isn’t that right?” She gave Elizabeth a pointed look.

  Red-faced, Elizabeth stared at Phoebe with her mouth open. Never taking her gaze away, she toddled over to Mrs. Donnelly and took her hand.

  Once they left, Markus ran his fingers through his overlong hair. “How did you do that?”

  Phoebe wanted to feel sympathy for him but she couldn’t keep her annoyance in check. “What on earth is wrong with you? How can you talk about Emma that way in front of your daughter? I am well aware of the loss of my dear friend, so your attempt to hurt me was wasted. Why is your house in chaos? Why are Emma’s roses along the front entrance overgrown? Why is your staff terrified of a small child? Where have you been that they are shocked at your arrival? I demand answers.”

  “You demand? Who are you to demand anything? Where were you when Emma lay in her coffin and they covered her up with dirt? You have no rights here.” He collapsed into his chair.

  Guilt swelled inside Phoebe, and she sat across from him. “I was in Scotland with my grandmother. She was ill and I could not leave her. I received a letter from my mother about Emma’s passing, and you may believe me when I tell you I was quite devastated. However, there was nothing I could do for her as she was and is in God’s hands.” Pulling herself together, she added, “I have been sent here by the Everton Domestic Society at the behest of your mother.”

  “I do not care why you are here. Get out of my house. You only serve as a reminder of her.”

  Where was the Markus of old? The man who Emma had gushed over. Markus would stop in and enjoy tea and conversation with the ladies. “Answer my questions. Then maybe I will leave you in peace.”

  He lifted a bottle of liquor out of his desk drawer, banged it onto the surface, removed the top, and took a long pull.

  Phoebe had never seen this side of Markus. Running might have been the smart thing to do, but she held her place and swallowed her fear. He had always been calm and polite. Everything admirable had gone with her friend and the child suffered for it. Something had to be done. “Have you taken to the bottle as well as neglected your responsibilities, my lord? I always imagined you were smarter than your father.”

  Markus’s face colored a horrible shade of purple, and he hurled the bottle across the room. It shattered against the wall in a starburst of glimmering shards. Brandy ran down the wall in rivulets and the stench of alcohol swamped the room.

  If she left now, she could escape whatever wrath she had unleashed inside of him, but where would t
hat leave poor Elizabeth? “Are you quite through or are there other objects you’d like to destroy? Maybe you will hack up that desk Emma bought you next?”

  The air went out of him and he slumped onto his folded arms atop the desk. His shoulders rose and fell several times before he sat up. “I have not been home because everything here reminds me of her and I am not strong enough. As to your other questions…” He shrugged. “I fired the gardener and the child has put a strain on the household. Did you say my mother sent you?”

  Many things she should have said, but his eyes shone from too much brandy and practical matters needed addressing first. “I work for Everton Domestic Society. Your mother contracted for someone to help you with Rosefield.”

  “Help me? How can you help me? No one can help.” He put his forehead on his arms.

  Nothing was ever easy. She needed a dozen questions answered, but one or two would have to do while he was in this state. “Why is there no nanny?”

  “I may have fired one or two.” He leaned his head back against the leather and closed his eyes.

  “What about your mother? Has she not come to help with the staff?”

  The green of his eyes was as intense as his daughter’s. He scoffed. “I tossed her from the house the last time I was home. I think she said something about never darkening my door again. Just as well.”

  The situation was coming into view, and the remedy would not be an easy one. “I see. Lady Chervil and I each have a lady’s maid. We will need rooms made up. I expect your staff can handle that small task. Our carriage needed repairs so we hired a hack this morning. The Everton Domestic Society’s carriage with our bags and maids will arrive later today. They will need to be brought in. I will explain to your staff my needs and expectations.”

  He stood, and pressing his knuckles to the wood, leaned forward. If the desk had not been so big, his looming might have been threatening, but as it was, he was too far away to leave her awed.

  “You cannot live here. I am an unmarried man,” he said, voice cracking.

  It wrenched her heart. “Everton’s is aware of your situation. That is why Lady Chervil is here as my chaperon. She is speaking with Watson now.”

  Raising his voice, he pointed at Phoebe. “I do not want her or you here. I do not need you here.”

  “Your rage does not scare me, my lord, so you might as well save it for someone else. You could tell me you will hire a reputable nanny and allow her to sort out your house. You might tell me you have met a fine woman and plan to remarry. You could step up and be the man Emma married and take care of your own house. If you can look me in the eye and guarantee me these things will happen, I will walk out that door and report to my superiors that all is well here and leave you in peace.”

  He sank back into his chair. “I will not be responsible for you or Lady Chervil.”

  “No. I imagine you are not even responsible for yourself these days. One more thing, my lord. When Mrs. Donnelly arrives back here in a few moments with your daughter in tow, you are to put aside whatever sorrows you have and pay her the attention she deserves. Do I make myself clear?” If she was overstepping her boundaries, she didn’t care. He had suffered, but so had Elizabeth and at his hand. There was no time like the present to start a change.

  “She looks too much like Emma.” Pain etched lines around his eyes and mouth.

  Sympathy shared the space with her disgust. He was in pain but his behavior could not be ignored. “And quite a lot like you too, Markus. She is a smart child and she needs you.”

  Tugging at his badly tied cravat, he pulled it loose. “You have been here not twenty minutes. How do you know she’s smart?”

  Phoebe sat on the edge of the monstrous desk. “Your daughter is two years old and has not spoken, yet she clearly understands what is said to her.”

  He sat up. “Has not spoken?”

  It took a force of will not to rail at him for being so self-absorbed he didn’t know his child was mute. “According to your staff, Elizabeth does not speak. I think that is a sign of her intelligence.”

  “How so?”

  “To be so filled with sorrow at her age that she chooses not to speak to anyone means she understands a great deal of what is happening in her world. Perhaps she has nothing to say in a world that left her without a mother and a father.”

  Staring down at his hands in his lap he nodded.

  One scratch at the door and it opened. Elizabeth ran several steps into the room, stopped and stared at her father.

  Softening his expression, Markus looked up. “Come here, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth looked from him to Phoebe. She spotted the broken glass on the far side of the room and took a step back.

  Phoebe smiled. “It’s all right. Go to your father.”

  Going to one knee, Markus opened his arms.

  Blinking, Elizabeth cocked her head before running into his embrace.

  It was all Phoebe could do to keep from breaking down into sobs at the sight of father and daughter hugging. What had she gotten herself into? She must be mad. If Emma had not been her closest friend, she would have left Markus Flammel and his problems to someone else at Everton. Though, now that she’d seen Elizabeth, she wanted to see her happy.

  Mrs. Donnelly watched from the doorway. She dabbed her eyes with her apron and sniffed back her tears.

  Lifting Elizabeth, Markus sat in his chair and propped her in his lap. “I am sorry I have not been at home, Elizabeth. I promise to try to do better.”

  Elizabeth put her palm on his cheek and father and daughter stared into each other’s eyes.

  It was a start. Phoebe shooed Mrs. Donnelly from the study, followed her, and closed the door, giving them some privacy. “I will need two rooms made up for Lady Chervil and myself. Once they are ready, I expect you to begin the process of getting this house cleaned. It is a crime how far Rosefield has fallen in two years. It is clear Elizabeth needs a proper nanny and Rosefield needs a gardener. I will put those things at the top of my list.”

  A wide smile spread across Mrs. Donnelly’s face. “Will you be the new mistress here then, Miss Hallsmith?”

  “Do not be ridiculous. I am an Everton lady. I shall help get his lordship back on his feet, if that is possible, and I will see that the house and child are in order. Once that is done, I will leave them to their life.” Fear and sorrow spread through Phoebe’s chest. Was she doing the right thing? Would Emma approve?

  Her gut twisted as it always did when she imagined the end of an assignment. The client went on their happy way and Phoebe moved on to the next client’s life. She never moved on with her own. Going to Scotland at the age of eighteen meant that she had missed several key seasons where she might have found someone to love. At twenty-four, Phoebe’s time to find a husband and have a family was at an end. Everton’s had been a boon for her. If not for Lady Jane, she would be listening to her mother and eldest brother natter on about how disappointing she was.

  Phoebe sighed. “Watson, we arrived in a hired carriage as ours had a wheel that required fixing at the inn this morning. I expect it will arrive in a few hours with our maids and trucks.”

  Watson straightened his coat and smoothed his hair back. “I understand, Miss.”

  At least he was acting like a butler again. That was a small piece of progress. Phoebe would take some comfort in that. “Mrs. Donnelly, please knock on the study door in twenty minutes and take Elizabeth to the nursery. I am sure this will be very tiring for her.”

  “And for his lordship as well,” Mrs. Donnelly said.

  It was true, but Elizabeth was Phoebe’s first worry. “I am less concerned with his lordship’s condition. That child has suffered a lifetime. Well, her lifetime anyway.”

  “Miss, am I to understand that you will be taking over as housekeeper?”

  Phoebe squeezed Mrs. Donnelly’s
hand. “I am not taking your position. I will leave when the house is in order. The viscount needs assistance and I need you to continue as the housekeeper Rosefield deserves. I would like to know: How have things gotten this bad, Mrs. Donnelly? Why have you not managed the house at least?” It was harsher than Phoebe had intended, but Rosefield was a mess. It was clear two years of neglect were at fault.

  Mrs. Donnelly turned red and fussed with the keys at her waist. “I do not wish to speak against his lordship, Miss. He has been a good master for many years despite all the restrictions his father put on him. After my lady perished bringing the babe into the world, he was not the same man. More like the earl every day, he was. Drinking and disappearing for weeks on end. When he would come home, he’d fire half the staff. Some folks who had been in his service for years lost their posts for no good reason except his grief. It isn’t possible to keep up a house of this size. We have only four of us left and the child to care for.”

  Horror smacked Phoebe in the face. “Four? You and Watson, the cook and one maid?”

  “Cook was fired last year. The upstairs maid has been acting as cook. She’s a fair one too.”

  “But it means there is only one maid for this entire estate.” Drawing in a full breath, Phoebe made a mental list of all that would need her attention. “Things are far worse than I expected. It’s a good thing I am here.”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  Honoria bustled in from down the hallway beside the stairs. “Do you know there is no staff in this house, Phoebe?”

  Phoebe liked Honoria’s directness, but sometimes wished she would save it for when they were alone. “I have just been informed, my lady. When the other carriage arrives, the driver and footman will have to bring our bags upstairs before they return to London. I will help get the rooms ready.”

  “Of course, my dear. I fear you have your work cut out for you.” Sighing, Honoria ambled out the front door.

  That much was certain. Wishing she had her grandmother’s council, Phoebe climbed the stairs to find two guest rooms.