Her Longed-For Family

by Jo Ann Brown

  “Or make us sneeze until we cannot stand up.” He thanked her before he motioned for Caroline and the footmen to come with him up a set of steps from the kitchen.

  The staircase led into a wing of the house that had suffered even more than the rooms she had seen before. A whole section of ceiling had collapsed, and water dripped through the opening.

  When Lord Warrick assured her other sections of the upper floor were in better condition, she followed him to a central corridor. As she looked in both directions, she bit back her groan. The furniture in the hallway appeared as if someone had thrown the pieces against a wall. Some were missing legs, and she saw large chips out of the edges. The walls were bare of paint. Their surfaces had weathered to a sickly brown between the closed doors.

  She wondered about the state of the rooms beyond those doors but did not open one. Lord Warrick would not mind if she did; however, she guessed the sight of the chambers would depress her.

  “The rooms in this wing are actually in surprisingly good shape compared to the ones downstairs,” he said as if she had asked. “The paint has stayed on the walls, and some of the furniture is salvageable. We can look around if you wish.”

  “No. Let’s see what you have in the attic we can use. After that, when we have some idea of what pieces are available, we can figure out how to set up the rooms.” She peered to her right. “And in that direction?”

  “Many of the windows have been broken for years, leaving everything exposed to the weather.”

  “I would suggest you have a door put up to block the ruined hallways, so no one wanders through them.”

  “I had already planned to do that. Doors with sturdy locks.” A gust of cold wind rushed toward them. “They will keep this floor warmer.” He opened a nearby door. “The attic is this way. Watch where you step.”

  Caroline followed Lord Warrick up the stairs. The steps creaked beneath her feet, and more than one wobbled. She heard a muffled oath, then a loud crack. Looking back, she saw Haines extracting his foot from a broken tread with the help of Repper.

  “Are you hurt, Haines?” she asked.

  “No, my lady,” the ginger-haired footman replied as he nodded his thanks to Repper. “Didn’t expect it would give way.”

  “Stay close to one side or the other,” Lord Warrick cautioned. “As you have discovered, the wood is weakest in the middle.”

  The two footmen nodded, one moving quickly to the left while the other edged right.

  “To bring furniture down these stairs will be impossible,” Caroline said.

  “I thought it might be simpler to lower whatever we choose by a pulley hung outside one of the attic windows.”

  She smiled. “I should have guessed you already had devised a solution.”

  Lord Warrick paused when he reached the top of the staircase. A closed door blocked the way. He put his hand on the old-fashioned latch. “Ready?”

  “As much as I shall ever be.”

  “Ah, there is your curiosity again. You know what they say about curiosity.”

  “That it killed the cat? ’Tis a good thing I am not a cat, then, isn’t it?”

  When she laughed, he said over his shoulder, “Let me warn you. It is a jumble.”

  “Most attics are.”

  He did not reply. Pushing the door open, he stepped aside so she could enter first.

  She sneezed as dust coiled around her ankles. She looked around, not wanting to disturb more dust until she could determine where to start first.

  “Oh, my!” she said as Lord Warrick and the two footmen entered after her.

  Unlike Cothaire, the attic at Warrick Hall was one vast space divided only by stone pillars holding up the roof. She was accustomed to a warren of rooms with at least the appearance of order. Furniture and boxes and individual items had been put in Warrick Hall’s attic haphazardly, as if someone had opened the door and shoved them inside before hurrying to shut the door to prevent them from tumbling down the stairs.

  “Where do you want to start?” she asked.

  “I don’t think it matters, though I think we can ignore the paintings over there.” Lord Warrick motioned to framed canvases leaning against a wall. “I examined them, and they are portraits of the dreariest group of people I have ever seen.” Lifting the top box off a pile, he put it on the floor between them. He bent to open it, then held out his hand for one of the cloths they had brought with them. “Hold your breath while I get rid of some of this dust.”

  She put her hand on his arm to halt him, then jerked it back as the powerful tingle raced through her fingers and up her arm again. Oh, bother! She had warned herself not to touch him, and she had forgotten less than a minute after they entered the attic.

  “Yes?” His voice was neutral. Had he felt the tingle, too? For the first time, she thought he might have.

  The situation was getting out of hand. She could not let him think she was interested in more than friendship. Already, if Elisabeth was right, Mr. Hockbridge wanted to court her. Telling him she did not want him to do so was sure to cause bad feelings. To have to do the same with Lord Warrick would be even more difficult.

  Squaring her shoulders, she decided to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “I think we should start with the larger pieces while Haines and Repper get as many of the windows open as they can.”

  Lord Warrick did not look at her as he said, “As you wish, my lady. I saw some headboards in this direction.” He went to his left.

  “How many guests are you expecting?” she asked, picking her way around crates and draped items.

  “Four. My stepmother, my brother and his wife, and his wife’s sister.”

  “Is it likely they would bring anyone else with them?”

  “They have not mentioned that, but it is possible.”

  “Then you would be wise to have a couple of extra bedrooms ready.” She tapped her fingertip against her chin. “How many bedchambers do you have in the wing you plan to use?”

  “Six or seven.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I have not taken the time to get an exact count.”

  “Either six or seven bedchambers will suffice, I am sure. Let’s find what we need before it gets too dark to work up here.” She pushed up her sleeves and smiled. “To work!”

  * * *

  Lady Caroline was as good as her word. Finding a length of thin fabric, she tore it into strips and gave them to Jacob and the footmen to wrap around their hands and tie around their heads like turbans. That would allow them to wipe away spider webs without getting the sticky filaments on their skin or in their hair.

  Jacob admired her efficiency as she directed the footmen, and they hurried to obey her requests. She gave orders easily, but with a kindness that suggested the footmen were vital parts of the team.

  Would he ever be able to do the same? He had no trouble barking out orders at the mines, but doing so at Warrick Hall made him uneasy. Someone, he could not remember whom, had told him a member of the ton must treat his servants as if they were invisible. It might have been Wherry, who seemed to feel it was not inappropriate to lecture a low-born baron on how to act in his own home. Those dressing-downs had been one of the reasons he had decided he needed lessons from Lady Caroline.

  Every word she spoke reminded him how gauche he must appear to her. Suddenly he felt as if he had a dozen hands and half as many feet and did not know where to put any of them. His elbow bumped a box, tipping it to the floor where it cracked open. Straw scattered from it. Several cups shattered as they struck the floor. Before he could react, the footman rushed around the box and began to gather up the shards.

  Should he thank the man or not? Before he could decide, he heard Lady Caroline gasp, “Look at this! It is a cradle!”

  As she dropped the blanket covering it to the floor, he cou
ld see it was most definitely a cradle. If he had to guess, he would say it was not more than a few decades old. Thick oak planks had been used to construct its sides and hood. Delicately curved finials were set at each corner to allow someone to rock it. The dark stain was blistered on one side, and he wondered if it had gotten too close to a hearth or if the dampness had ruined the finish.

  She ran her fingers along the smooth wood as she looked at the beautiful interior carved with images from nursery rhymes. “It looks as if it has never been used. Did your uncle intend to marry and have a family?”

  He shrugged. “You are asking the wrong man. My uncle never communicated with us.”

  “That is sad.” She touched a carved flower on the inside and bent to admire the skill of the person who had designed and built the cradle. “And a surprise.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “We seldom saw your uncle, but he occasionally attended services at the Porthlowen church. I thought he appeared lonely, because he sat alone and seldom spoke. Some of the mining families came to our church even then, and they never greeted him.”

  “I have heard he was very eccentric.”

  “I think he was quite ill, especially toward the end of his life. Perhaps he did not feel well enough to engage in conversation or to receive guests in his home.”

  He curved his hand along her cheek and tipped her face toward him. Amidst her shock at his forward behavior, a softness filled her eyes and curved her lips in a fragile smile.

  “You are amazing, Caroline Dowling,” he said. “You always see the best in everyone.”

  “I try. We are urged not to judge others, for our own lives seldom can live up to being judged.”

  He watched as her lips formed each word; then he tried to shake off his fascination. She enticed him with every motion, but he needed to resist her allure. He knew that, but he wondered if he could have if one of the footmen had not called out a question to her and she looked away. Drawing in a sharp breath, he pondered how long he had been holding it as he gazed at her.

  “I wonder what other surprises we will discover here,” he managed to say when she turned to him again.

  They began to inspect nearby items. He realized much of what had been stored in the attic was useless, and he was puzzled why anyone had brought it up the steep stairs instead of tossing it out.

  “Look at this!” Lady Caroline drew a sheet away from what he had assumed was another portrait of a scowling ancestor.

  It was, instead, a grand mirror. Almost as tall as she was, it was edged in a wood frame that must have been carved by the same artisan who had made the cradle. Flowers that ran through the scenes inside the cradle decorated the frame, along with animals, both real and imaginary. Each one was exquisitely chiseled from the wood, so that muscles and sinews were visible.

  “This would be beautiful on the chimneypiece in the parlor,” she said as she glanced over her shoulder.

  “Getting rid of that ugly gilt mirror is a good idea. It looks as if the frame has been run over by a wagon.”

  Jacob returned to the search, glad they had found at least one item they could use. He had renewed hope that there would be others.

  * * *

  Caroline took another sip of the cocoa that had been waiting in the parlor when they emerged from the attic. She had no doubts that, in the kitchen, Gil’s face was covered with chocolate. She hoped Mrs. Trannock had made enough for Haines and Repper, as well. The two footmen from Cothaire had worked hard, shifting crate after crate, as well as big pieces of dusty furniture.

  At first she had been stumped on how to separate the pieces she wanted brought downstairs. Wherry had solved that when he brought tea to the attic for them. When he had seen her problem, he returned with a skein of faded blue yarn. She tied a length around the furniture she had selected. She had chosen enough for several rooms on the ground floor and for the bedrooms in one wing upstairs.

  Other furniture should be brought from the attic before it was ruined, but it could wait until after Lord Warrick’s family’s visit was over. She thought of the cradle and wondered what other stories about the previous, very reclusive Lord Warrick would be discovered in the attic.

  Lord Warrick entered the room and sat facing her. When she offered him a cup of the dark, rich cocoa, he smiled. “Mrs. Trannock makes the best hot chocolate in the world, and her chocolate cakes are almost as good.”

  “They sound wonderful.”

  “They are. I want to thank you for your help today, Lady Caroline. We were able to accomplish more than I expected. As I told you, I was daunted by the task.”

  “As you should have been when you took it on alone.”

  He took a sip, then said, “Wherry, though his heart is in the right place, cannot do heavy work like that.”

  “I agree. Have you considered hiring more servants? Wherry and Mrs. Trannock cannot manage this whole house themselves, especially when you have guests.”

  “I have been meaning to, but I have not had the time.” He paused and cocked an ear.

  She heard the faint sound of the beam engine. “Perhaps when matters at the mine don’t demand all your attention, you will have more time for other things.”

  “I agree.” He set his cup on the tray between them. “How does one go about such things as finding servants? Putting out the word that one is looking to hire or advertisements in newspapers? I am not sure how to begin.”

  “Both are excellent ideas, but it is simpler to ask for recommendations from your neighbors. There are always servants who wish to advance themselves and see opportunities at a house that is hiring.”

  “I will do that. My dear Lady Caroline, do you have any recommendations?”

  She laughed at his somber tone. “I do, and, if you wish, I would be glad to interview them for you.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot ask that of you. You are already being generous with your time and expertise. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”

  “You are not. As I told you, I have found myself with too much time on my hands, now that Maris is taking over the duties of the lady of Cothaire. You would be doing me a favor to allow me to help.”

  He laughed. “Tell me. Will I ever be able to offer help graciously and make it sound as if I am doing you a favor by allowing you to assume my obligations?”

  “If you don’t keep missing your lessons.”

  “Touché.” He became serious again. “I would appreciate your help. I’m not even sure which servants I should hire.”

  “You need a footman or two as well as an assistant for your cook and two maids. Will your stepmother and the other women be bringing their own maids when they come to Warrick Hall?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then you might wish to hire three maids, so one can perform the duties of a lady’s maid for your guests. That is the very minimum. You need to have a groundskeeper by the time spring comes.”

  “I have hired a few men to repair the inside of the house, but I need more. I have gotten help from a few of the miners, but they already put in long hours at the mines. Do you know of any who are looking for work?”

  “The Porthlowen fishermen cannot go out to sea once the winter winds stir up the waves. They are strong and unafraid of hard work. If you would like, I can tell Raymond about your interest in hiring men to help move the furniture and fix the rooms you plan to use. He will spread the word while he visits his parishioners.”

  “A good idea! What would I do without your help, Lady Caroline?”

  “As I said, I am glad to help.” Sipping the delicious chocolate, she hoped she was not being foolish as she asked, “Under the circumstances, do you think we could dispense with our titles and call each other by our Christian names?”

  “Gladly.” He smiled. “Gladly, Carrie.”<
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  She put her fingers to her lips in vain, because her gasp escaped.

  Lord Warrick—Jacob—frowned, his brows lowering. “What did I do wrong now?”

  “You called me Carrie.”

  “I thought—”

  “Arthur is the only one who uses that name for me.”

  “Forgive me. I didn’t know that.”

  “No need to apologize. It simply startled me.” She was the one who needed to relearn her manners. Making a scene about something incidental was silly. “If you wish, go ahead and call me Carrie, too.”

  “I am honored, but I will use it on one condition.”

  “What is that?” She relaxed when she heard his jesting tone return.

  “Don’t ever call me by the nickname my brother gave me.”

  “What is that?”

  “Half-bake Jake.”

  She laughed so hard tears welled up in her eyes. With difficulty, she was able to promise around her laughter that she would never speak the silly name.

  They spent the rest of the time while they finished their hot cocoa discussing his plans for the house. Only when darkness began to creep out of the corners of the room did she realize how swiftly the hours at Warrick Hall had passed.

  As soon as Joy and Gil, who chattered about what he had done and seen in the kitchen, were brought, she checked that their wraps were in place. She thanked Jacob for his hospitality and asked Wherry to convey her appreciation to Mrs. Trannock for keeping the children busy and out of trouble.

  The footmen were waiting outside by the carriage when the butler opened the door. A gust of wintry wind hastened into the entry foyer, and she held Joy’s face closer to her own coat. Taking Gil by the hand, she turned to bid Jacob a quick farewell.

  “Thank you for your help, Carrie,” he said as he put his hands on her shoulders.

  Did he feel her quiver at his wondrous touch? She bent to check Gil’s coat as if it were simply a casual motion instead of an attempt to keep herself from stepping even closer to him.