And Robert? His presence was a temporary convenience until both she and Molly were back on their feet.
She heard the footsteps before anyone even spoke. It was surely Evelyn.
“Mrs. Blake?”
And she’d been right. Feeling a touch more confident, she said, “Yes?”
“The land agent, Mr. Drayton, has arrived. He says you sent for him?”
Audrey turned toward Robert. “I requested a meeting. I didn’t realize he’d come so quickly. I have so many questions about the estate.”
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She heard the determination, even eagerness in his voice. She smiled, and did her best to put her concern for Molly aside for the moment. “I’m ready.”
Robert left before dinner, almost as if he were just a neighbor who kept dropping in. Audrey wasn’t sad this time, now that she knew he planned to return. Oh, what did that say about the state of her attachment to him? she asked herself, even as she slowly climbed the stairs to visit Molly in the servants’ quarters in the attics.
She had to admit, Robert had had questions for the land agent that she would never have thought of—how many sheep did they plan to drive to market this month, the state of the recent grain harvest, the strategy for the spring planting. They hadn’t even begun to discuss tenants, but that could wait for another time. Mr. Drayton had seemed genial enough, although a bit too glad to have the Earl of Knightsbridge to explain things to. Audrey would be patient, and allow him to become used to dealing with a woman. For now, Robert was the bridge between her and the people who worked for her. And soon she wouldn’t need that bridge anymore. She’d be her own . . . island.
A pathetic comparison, she thought, even as she reached the top floor. To her surprise, when she went to knock on Molly’s door, it was already open.
“Hello?” she said warily. “Molly?”
“She’s asleep,” said a young man.
“Oh, Francis, I didn’t realize . . .” Her voice trailed off in confusion.
“I offered to sit with Molly while me mum prepared dinner. She’s been asleep the whole time.”
“That was very nice of you.” Audrey moved farther into the room, heard the young man step to the side as she approached the bed. She laid a hand on Molly’s forehead and winced. “Still so hot,” she murmured. “Please tell your mother to send up a dinner tray to me here when it’s ready, and also some ice from the icehouse.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The ice and some broth for Molly’s benefit arrived quickly, but a dinner tray never did. Audrey spent an hour using cooling cloths on Molly’s forehead, neck, and arms, over and over again. She wasn’t even hungry by the time she felt she’d done all she could.
Molly woke briefly, took a few sips of broth, but was never quite herself. It was frightening not to hear her amusing comments about whatever state Audrey was in.
When someone knocked on the door and stepped inside without introducing themselves, Audrey was too weary to pay attention to footsteps. Sighing, she said, “Yes?”
“Me mum sent me to sit with Molly, ma’am,” Evelyn said. “You should rest.”
“Thank you.” Whatever Audrey had to say about the servants, she could not doubt their kindness toward her maid. “I’ll return in a while.”
But she couldn’t sleep, although she tried. Her thoughts whirled in fear for her friend, and at last she decided to do something constructive. With no prying eyes to watch her, she began to go through the rooms on the first floor again, getting an understanding of what each bedroom contained. She moved with hands outstretched to feel each piece of furniture, and cement its place in her mind.
To her surprise, in the bedroom closest to the servants’ staircase, she found nursery furniture—a cradle, low tables and chairs, and several toys. Nothing was dusty, although whether that was from good cleanliness or recent use, she didn’t know.
She stood among the trappings of a baby, and thought again of hers, who’d been born dead. It had been almost two years. Why now was her grief so easily awakened?
Perhaps . . . the wounds were still raw because her own child would have given her life meaning, someone to love and nurture—someone who loved her for herself and wouldn’t care that she was blind.
At last she left the nursery and closed the door behind her, trying to think of closing off the painful emotions, as well. This was a reminder of the pain she never wanted to feel again, the grief from caring too much. Living on her own and the pride in her accomplishments would have to sustain her.
At last she returned to Molly’s room and relieved the reluctant maid. Audrey dozed in a chair by her side, to be there whenever Molly needed a sip of water, a blanket, or just companionship.
For several days, Audrey focused on Molly, to the exclusion of all else. She had Francis take a note to Robert, asking him not to visit so he wouldn’t become ill. No one else had sickened, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
There was an hour or two, in the dead of night, when Molly barely seemed to be breathing, and Audrey wept at her side, begging her to hold on, to fight to be well.
At last Molly’s fever broke, and Audrey had cried over that, too. She was still very weak, sleeping much of that day, her rest deep and genuine. She would have a long recovery—but at least she would recover.
Audrey went to the dining room for her first formal meal since . . . since Robert had last visited. The food was cold and late, as if the truce between her and the servants was over now that Molly would live.
Audrey went into the kitchen afterward, and when she called Mrs. Sanford’s name, found her and Evelyn in the adjoining scullery washing pans. Audrey could hear the sloshing of water, smell the strong soap.
“Mrs. Sanford, I’d like to speak with you.”
“Ma’am, when I’m done, I’ll—”
“Evelyn can finish. Please follow me to the study.”
She listened as the housekeeper followed, her steps deliberate and heavy. Audrey took a seat behind the desk, then asked the woman to sit opposite her.
“Mrs. Sanford, much as I’ve appreciated all the help given Molly and me during her illness, I’d like you to concentrate on your duties now, and that includes the preparation of meals. You’ve only added two people, occasionally three. I cannot believe it is difficult to cook for us.”
“No, ma’am,” she said impassively.
“Will things be better in the future?”
“Aye, ma’am.”
“Then tell me about the nursery on the first floor.”
Her pause seemed overly long, and Audrey cocked her head with interest.
“There’s always been a nursery here, as far as I know, ma’am.”
“The room felt like it had been used more recently, with toys left out.”
“Aye, when my daughter visits, occasionally she lets her boy play there. I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
The words seemed pulled from her throat, and Audrey couldn’t understand it.
“Mrs. Sanford, why would I wish your daughter not to visit you? Did I ever give you that impression?”
“No, ma’am.” Her tone was still wooden.
Audrey didn’t think it was time for last measures, so all she said was, “Then let us try to better manage this household together. I look forward to meeting your other daughter. You may go.”
She sank back in her chair, unable to decide whether to be offended or suspicious or exasperated. She’d always gotten along well with her servants—better than with her own family! She was determined to do the same at Rose Cottage.
Robert didn’t want to disturb the household, so he let himself in the front door without knocking. It had been three days since he’d been here, and he couldn’t take the suspense any more. Was Molly on her way to recovery?
Would Audrey see him?
He’d never met a woman he couldn’t stop thinking about, and now he had. Of course, her entire situation was so unusual—naturally he
’d be concerned about how she was getting on with the servants. She’d been trying to keep her difficulties from him, he knew, so he hadn’t intruded. She was so proud of being able to do everything herself.
He hadn’t let himself think that she might have taken ill as well.
He heard a sound in the drawing room and went toward it. At that moment, Francis entered the hall and drew up short on seeing him. Robert held a finger to his lips; Francis’s gaze darted to the drawing room. He bowed and withdrew.
Robert moved carefully, stopping in the doorway. Audrey was alone, moving from one furniture group to another, exploring her world by touch. He experienced a profound relief and gladness that she was well. Standing still for several minutes, he watched the concentration on her face, the delicate way her fingers moved over each carved detail of woodwork. Satisfaction enlivened her expression as she touched the piano, and he knew how important music was to her.
Then she suddenly stilled and cocked her head. He knew he’d made no sound, and in the army, he’d been known for his ability to move stealthily.
“Robert?”
He shook his head in amazement. “Tell me that was a guess.”
She smiled, and now he could see the faint shadows beneath her eyes. She was working so hard, and his admiration only grew.
“Let us say . . . an educated guess,” she said. Her head dipped, and she murmured, “I am surprised by how much I can sense your presence. It must be from spending several days together.”
He was taken aback that she’d admit such a thing. He didn’t want to know she was so attuned to him.
But he was attuned to her. He kept remembering the soft sweetness of her cheek when he’d kissed her there, the way he’d almost turned his head to make the kiss more—and thought she’d almost done the same.
Just a momentary whim on both their parts.
He studied her in the morning light; she looked . . . fragile, as if she’d lost weight. “How is Molly?” he asked.
Her smile held relief, and it filled him with the same.
“Oh, she is better. I am so sorry I did not write to tell you. The fever only just broke and . . .”
“And Molly usually writes your letters, I know.”
Audrey smiled.
“I’m glad for her,” he said, moving toward her, “but you should have taken better care of yourself. I wasn’t certain if I’d find you in your own sickbed.”
And then he touched her face, cupped her cheek, needing to feel her health, needing to comfort. She closed her eyes and gave a soft sigh, even as she nestled her cheek deeper into his hand. They stood together a long moment, and he felt the peace that had been eluding him for days.
She was well, he told himself. He didn’t have to worry anymore.
She stiffened and stepped back, pressing her lips together in the semblance of a smile. He knew how she felt—that he was touching her when no one could see them, when he had no right.
“And what brings you to Rose Cottage today, my lord?” she asked in too cheerful a voice.
“You, of course. I did promise to assist you however I could. Don’t tell me you’ve gone to visit all your tenants without me, or made a triumphant appearance in the village.”
She laughed. “No, nothing like that. I’ve been here sitting with Molly. What have you been up to?”
“I’ve been receiving the first congratulatory notes about our engagement. They are all expressing surprise, for they’ve never heard of you.”
Her lips parted in shock, and then she covered them with her fingertips. “Oh no,” she murmured. “I am so sorry. And when they find out I’m blind—”
“You know I don’t care about that. And why are you sorry? The engagement was my idea, and it was bound to become common knowledge.”
“But you do realize how it became common knowledge,” she said, reaching behind her quite accurately for a padded chair, and sinking back into it.
“Servants talk.”
“Oh, not just servants. My sister went to London, and it’s not even the Season. What else would she have to do but spread the gossip that she would soon be sister-by-marriage to an earl?”
“Aah,” he said.
“You sound amused.”
“I am. And remember, she’s not the only one who left your house for London.”
“My brother’s friends,” Audrey agreed, shaking her head in bemusement.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“But it is an inconvenience to you, Robert, and I never wanted that.”
“The engagement wasn’t your idea, remember?” He pulled up a chair and sat before her. “I knew what I was getting into.”
“Days have passed now, Robert,” she said, lowering her voice. “It’s time to end this farce.”
“It’s too soon. I will not harm your reputation, so stop asking it of me.”
“Very well,” she said, her nose tilted in the air.
Something out of place caught his eye, and he glanced past her. “There’s a coal bucket—empty it seems—on its side in the middle of your carpet.”
She winced. “I forgot to pick it up. That’s what I was looking for when you came.”
“You are not the only one who can interpret voices, madam. Now tell me the truth. I may be ignorant of household duties, but I know the maid takes away the coal bucket when she’s done.”
“Not always.”
“You’re right—she could forget. You tripped, didn’t you?”
She sighed. “I’m all right.”
He rose to his feet. “It’s time for me to—”
“No!” She reached for him, and he caught her hand. “I am dealing with this, Robert. This is not any easier for me than it is for them.”
“They’re servants,” he said angrily. “They surely know what they’re doing. I’ve always believed that, unlike the rest of the army.”
“What do you mean?”
She gave his hand a tug, and he reluctantly sat back down. “In the army, the assumption is always that uneducated people are unintelligent.”
“They just haven’t had the same access to knowledge that we’ve had,” she said, her expression bewildered.
“We both know that, having grown up with servants. But as an officer, I’d often be ordered to oversee soldiers doing the simplest tasks around the encampment, as if they were incapable of digging holes by themselves.”
“But they knew you were watching, Robert. It’s different here, because I can’t see them. But I can comprehend the results. And the other thing that’s difficult to reconcile is how helpful they all were when Molly was at her worst. It was like we put aside our problems to assist her. We took turns in the sickroom. The Sanfords are the only reason I slept. So let me deal with them and discover what’s going on.”
“Then how can I help you?” he asked.
“Well, I just happen to have a list of my tenants and where they live. I’d like to visit them, but I need a driver. Can I trust you with my life on these country roads?”
He rubbed his hands together. “Now this I can do. I even drove a wagon through the Afghan mountains once, when there weren’t enough healthy soldiers.”
“I’m hardly a lumbering wagon, but I am useless cargo.”
“Useless?” He shook his head. “These tenants owe their livelihood to you.”
“To my dead husband’s estate, you mean.”
“To you. After all, you could turn them all out and convert their farms to sheep pasture, if you really wanted to make a profit.”
She gasped. “I would never!”
“I know that, but they don’t. Let’s go introduce you.”
Chapter 11
Robert drove the little curricle, hood down, and the autumn sun shone down on them. Audrey wore a bonnet to shield her face, but he was glad to see color return to her pale cheeks.
“So what does it look like?” she asked with quiet excitement. “This estate of mine?”
He grinned. “Very well-maintain
ed and picturesque.”
“You mean quaint and countrified compared to your noble castle,” she said dryly.
“Now don’t say that. I own a manor, too.”
“A manor?”
“Very well, I own several, some of which are in Scotland, and I haven’t seen them.”
She winced. “My, how above it all you are.”
“That is unfair,” he said mildly. “I did leave England at the age of twenty-one. Before I was twenty, I was at the mercy of my father’s schedule. He believed in delegating only when he absolutely had to.”
“I imagine people think I should be doing the same,” she mused. “I do have a land agent.”
“And you’re letting him complete his duties. You’re simply overseeing him.”
“Is that what you do?”
“Not exactly. My steward and lawyers have been overseeing the various land agents of all of my properties. To be honest, I don’t even know how many I have. That is what I’m home to rectify,” he added. “In India, it was too difficult to make day-to-day decisions when the mail roundtrip takes at least twelve weeks.”
“Your steward must be happy you’re home.”
“I’m not so certain of that. Remember I told you my father needed to be in control at all times? And I showed those tendencies before I left. I imagine all my servants and men of business are waiting to see what I’ll do now that I’m home.”
“We’re in the same situation, you know.”
“It’s good to have someone who understands how awkward all of this is.”
She smiled and lifted her face to the sun again.
“If I’m taking Molly’s place,” he said, “am I supposed to tell you you’ll develop freckles doing that?”
She gave a little groan. “No, never that. I already have freckles, and they’re not from the sun. They’re—”
She broke off, and he saw her face go all blotchy red before she turned away.
“You’re going to leave me like that? Where are the freckles?”
She lifted her chin. “None of your business. A gentleman wouldn’t ask.”
“I’m a soldier. We’re a crude lot.”
Gayle Callen - [Brides of Redemption 02] Page 11
