Ambersley (Lords of London)

by Amy Atwell

  Like so many things in her life, she had dealt with her disappointment privately. Turning her head, she watched as Curtis steadied little Olivia, who pressed her nose to the coach window. As much as Rosalie loved her daughter, her hopes were pinned on her first-born. Curtis would secure their future at Ambersley without question. Her son had inherited a dukedom.

  If only she could convince this solicitor of that. He insisted on initiating a search for Derek and refused to publicly announce her family’s claim to the title, despite having a valid heir in his grasp. Minton’s timely invitation to reside at Ambersley saved her from the embarrassment of creditors dunning her, but if Derek returned, she and her children would be subject to his whims. It irked her to think of Derek inheriting this prize he so little deserved.

  But then, they’d had no word from him in the past seven years. She rather hoped he’d died out there in the wilds of India after the way he’d abandoned them all. With great care she’d urged Reggie to look upon Curtis as his true heir. Everything had been progressing nicely until Reggie learned that Derek had become a highly prized officer with Wellesley.

  Glancing sidelong at Minton, Rosalie pursed her lips. The solicitor need not know that little tidbit. Let him search the globe for Derek—it would take months. Meanwhile, she would lay her own plans while she and her children remained at Ambersley. Rosalie closed her eyes, imagining herself as chatelaine of the ducal estate.

  “Ah, here’s Ambersham,” Minton said.

  Rosalie opened her eyes with a blink, unsure if she’d drifted to sleep or closed her eyes only moments before.

  Curtis, his lip curled in dissatisfaction, turned his attention from the window to Minton. “The town is little more than a hovel.”

  “Aye, it’s a small village,” the solicitor replied, unperturbed.

  Rosalie peered out the window to see thatched-roof cottages, what appeared to be a cooperage and a girl not much older than Olivia herding a flock of geese. The agitated birds gave voice to unmelodic honking as the carriage rolled past. A putrid odor warning of cattle nearby made her withdraw a perfumed handkerchief to cover her nose.

  “How very…rustic,” she said after they’d cleared the town.

  Minton’s lips curved in a gentle smile. “We prefer pastoral, but I’ll admit it’s a far cry from London.”

  To say the least. A bounce jostled her, and she barely had time to steady Olivia. Apparently, the quality of the roads was pastoral as well. They continued on in silence.

  “Look at the pretty house, Mama.” Olivia clapped her hands in delight. “Let’s live there!”

  Minton chuckled as he pushed his spectacles higher on his nose. “How clairvoyant of you, Miss Vaughan, for that’s exactly where you will live.”

  The coach drew to a halt before a whitewashed stone building, and Rosalie helped Olivia down from the seat. Someone opened the coach door and lowered the step.

  “Ah, Paget, there you are.” Minton hopped to the ground then offered his arm as Rosalie shook out her dark blue silk skirts and stepped carefully down. The children followed her, Olivia gripping Curtis’s hand.

  Rosalie smoothed her daughter’s wayward black curls and smiled at her son. “This will all be yours one day soon, Curtis.”

  The boy looked nervous, but she’d train that out of him soon enough.

  Minton regained her attention. “My lady, may I present Paget, the butler and head of staff?”

  “Welcome to Ambersley, my lady.”

  She considered the stiff-backed, beak-nosed butler as he bowed and decided he would do.

  “If you’ll allow me, I’ll gather the rest of the staff for introductions.”

  With a nod, she excused him, and he strode up the shallow steps and through the front door. Her brow furrowed as she inspected the façade of her new home.

  “Is anything amiss, Lady Vaughan?

  “I confess I expected the Hall to be larger.” She tried to hide her disappointment. This house wasn’t any larger than their home in London.

  “Dear me,” Minton said with a chuckle. “This is the Dower House. I thought I’d explained the Hall is unfit for habitation until the repairs are completed. “

  “Mr. Minton, we are the duke’s immediate family. My son is the heir. I hardly think it’s appropriate for us to be forced to live here.”

  “I think it’s a pretty cottage, Mama. I want to live here!” Olivia sniffed, clearly overtired.

  “Hush, Livvie,” Curtis admonished.

  Minton accepted Rosalie’s criticism without umbrage. “No one except a handful of servants has lived in the Hall for three years. With most of it uninhabitable, we temporarily bricked up a majority of the windows to reduce the property tax.”

  Rosalie touched a hand to her breast. Heavens, who had been making these decisions? A rustic solicitor and a shabby set of servants? Her gaze followed Paget as he ushered a handful of men and women down the steps toward her. “Then unbrick them immediately. I assume the furniture has been under Holland covers. We must have the maids set to work at once to make the Hall fit for proper people again.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, my lady,” Minton responded with irritating patience. “As I’ve told you before, I cannot make substantial repairs to the Hall until the duke claims possession of the property. Until that time, I recommend you take up residence here.”

  Paget stepped forward. “My lady, while the Dower House has been closed for some time, the staff has prepared it for your arrival.”

  Apparently, she had little choice but to accept their plans with grace. Minton continued to prove implacable in his belief that Derek was the true heir. “Very well,” she sighed.

  “May I present the staff to your ladyship?”

  At least the butler showed her the proper deference. Minton would have to learn he was no longer running things around Ambersley.

  For the next quarter hour she stood beneath a blazing May sun while Paget introduced her to the matronly gray-haired housekeeper, the flat-chested cook, the Duke’s thin-shouldered secretary, the bald-headed bailiff, and two young footmen and two maids.

  “Ah, Bendicks,” Minton called out. “This is the gardener and his apprentice, my lady. The Ambersley gardens have been the envy of kings and queens for generations.”

  Rosalie doubted that, but she nodded to the weathered face of the wiry man who worried his hat. A half step behind him stood a grimy urchin with huge eyes. She’d have to remind Miss Trent to keep Olivia and Curtis away from any of the children around here.

  “Can we go inside, Mama?” Olivia pulled on her skirt to gain her attention. “I want to see my room.”

  “Very well, dear, let’s go in.” She swallowed her disappointment. Instead of the duke’s home, she and her children were already being shuffled into the Dower House. Instead of the army of servants in shining liveries she’d imagined, she was faced with a ramshackle crew of aging retainers who eyed her as if she were the usurper. Rosalie ushered her children inside, already laying plans for a more satisfactory outcome.

  Clearly, a number of things needed to change at Ambersley.

  ~

  Johnny’s excitement over the arrival of the Vaughan heirs was quickly doused by the tumult surrounding their first week at Ambersley. Though she didn’t understand it, she sensed the undercurrents of change rippling through the staff. Tension and formality replaced the casual camaraderie around the massive servants’ table during Sunday supper in the Hall kitchens.

  “Mrs. Chalmers, I hope you didn’t find this meal too taxing for you,” the housekeeper said as they took their seats.

  “Not a bit, Mrs. North,” the cook replied. “’Tis indeed a pleasure to prepare a meal for people who know my name.”

  Mrs. North leaned across Johnny to whisper loudly in Martha’s ear. “Lady Vaughan has taken to calling her ’Cook’ to her face.”

  “And she’s entitled to do and say as she pleases,” said Mrs. Chalmers as she set down a platter of roasted ha
res. “But I was retained here long before she married into the family and birthed any heirs. The late duchess accorded me a certain level of respect. It was very ladylike of her.”

  Johnny watched heads around the table nod in understanding.

  “She’s not truly the dowager.” Mr. Pritchard said before swallowing a forkful of peas.

  Everyone stopped eating to look at the late duke’s secretary.

  “Didn’t you know? Mr. Minton explained to me that Lady Vaughan is the heir’s stepmother. Master Curtis and Miss Olivia are the duke’s half-brother and half-sister.”

  Mrs. North shook her head sadly. “Oh, the duke lost his mother, poor lamb.”

  “Miss Trent, the governess, mentioned the duke’s mother was hanged as a murderess.”

  “Good heavens.” Paget drew his napkin to his lips. “Baroness Vaughan. What a notorious scandal. She was such a distant relation, I never thought it would taint Ambersley.” Briefly, he recounted the facts of the trial and her hanging.

  His story sent a shiver up Johnny’s back.

  Beside her, Tom sipped his ale then broke the silence. “When will the new duke arrive?”

  “He’s in India,” Paget announced in his deep voice.

  Not to be outdone, Pritchard offered more details. “At least, those were his last known whereabouts. He left London years ago. Lady Vaughan claims he abandoned his father.”

  “It could be months before he returns,” Tom said. “The voyage is so long, he might not make it home at all.”

  “Then keep him in your prayers,” Pritchard said. “For if he dies, young Master Curtis will inherit.”

  Johnny wanted to ask a dozen questions. Where was India? What was the new duke like? What did Mr. Pritchard mean the duke had abandoned his father? She squirmed with the effort to keep silent for it wasn’t her place to talk at table.

  Martha chewed a bite of rabbit. “The boy is so young. Lady Vaughan would control Ambersley.”

  “Humph, she already acts as though she owns the whole estate.” Mrs. North buttered a piece of bread.

  “What makes you say that?” Martha asked.

  Mrs. North set aside her bread untasted. “After one night at the Dower House, she demanded the keys to all the storage closets.”

  “As is her prerogative,” Paget said.

  Mrs. North lifted her chin. “Indeed, and is it her prerogative to demand all the spare linens be given to her maid for safe keeping? I fear the china will disappear next.”

  “Then there’s this matter of dining late.” Mrs. Chalmers settled her hands on her broad hips. “She never eats supper before eight. I’ve burned more candles in the kitchen this week than in the past year.”

  Mrs. North nodded vigorously. “Not to mention the dining room, the drawing rooms, why, the whole house is lit up at night. She ordered a hundred candles from the chandler and had me forward the bill to Mr. Broadmoor.”

  “Ladies—” Paget dabbed at his lips with a napkin before bringing reason to the table. “May I remind you that her ladyship is entitled to every service we can provide her.”

  Mrs. North eyed him coolly. “And, I suppose, you’ll be turning the keys to the pantry over to her then?”

  Paget scanned the table like a hawk examining the terrain. “While Lady Vaughan may use the Dower House and its contents as her own, the table silver at the Hall is the property of the Duke of Ambersley. Like the late duchess’s jewelry, I have secured the duke’s property against his return, at which time I will relinquish it to him and to no other.”

  Tom coughed into his hand, and Johnny smiled. She and Tom had helped the butler bury a wooden crate at the edge of his vegetable garden the day before.

  Door hinges creaked and a warm breeze swept into the kitchen as Rory and Mr. Broadmoor joined them.

  “My apologies, Mrs. Chalmers.”

  “None needed, Mr. Broadmoor,” she said to the bailiff. “’Tis three years since we stood on ceremony when it comes to meals. We all have our work to do. I’ll do my best to keep you all fed.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, but I’m not sure I can eat a bite.” The head groom, Rory, paced the length of the room. “Lady Vaughan has just ordered me to sell all but four of the horses. Mr. Broadmoor, I appeal to you, does she have any right to issue such directives?”

  Broadmoor accepted a plate from Mrs. Chalmers and sat in his chair at the foot of the table. “It’s regrettable, Rory, but I must agree with Lady Vaughan. The horses cost a fortune to feed. We’ve been mad to hold onto them this long.”

  “They’ve been earning their keep.”

  “Aye, but if we sell them, they’ll earn all of our keep for a year or more.” Broadmoor shook his head at the dejected groom. “It’s a shame, but we can always buy new horses.”

  “’Tis the end of the finest stable in England.” Rory pushed a hand through his hair, though it did nothing to tame the unruly silver waves.

  Paget laid down his knife and fork. “It will take time for us to grow accustomed to Lady Vaughan’s ways. She is undeniably different from the late duke and duchess, but I have no doubt, if we persevere, we will be able to anticipate her needs and serve her well.”

  “God help us all,” Rory muttered.

  The butler looked sternly down his hooked nose at the groom who flushed and offered a quick apology.

  “I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Paget,” Martha said. “Lady Vaughan must have a good side. Family seems to be important to her. Her children are very well-behaved.”

  “That’s Miss Trent’s doing,” Mr. Pritchard replied. “For a governess, may I say, she exhibits a great deal of common sense.”

  Martha stole a glance at Tom before turning back to the table. “But what of Lady Vaughan? Has she expressed any interest in the Vaughan family?”

  “The day she arrived, I was given the task of showing her around.” Mr. Pritchard pushed back his chair, squaring his thin shoulders as he warmed to his story. “I told Lady Vaughan the history of Lord and Lady Ambersley, the many children they had lost in infancy, and then she asked about the fire. I told her what I could and shared with her our devout hope that young Miss Amber is somewhere still alive, and that one day she’ll return to us.”

  Johnny felt a knot form in her stomach. Talk of Miss Amber always made her feel sick, though she didn’t know why it should bother her.

  Tom scratched his chin. “What did she say to that?”

  Mr. Pritchard looked around the table at each and every face. “I’m afraid she’s more interested in the money and the title than the family. She said it was just as well that no one had found Miss Amber, for it would be just one more mouth to feed, one more child to raise.”

  Johnny watched Tom and Martha grip hands while everyone else stared at Mr. Pritchard.

  ~

  Martha always helped Mrs. Chalmers with the baking, but curious to see the Lady of Quality first-hand, she offered to help prepare luncheon the following day for Lady Vaughan and the children.

  “She don’t keep country hours,” Mrs. Chalmers said as she put a cover over the platter of stuffed chicken. “Luncheon never before two. As if any of those London dandies are going to pay a morning call.”

  Martha considered the luncheon platters. “Only three plates?”

  “Lady Vaughan never shares meals with the help,” said Mrs. Chalmers. “After I serve in the dining room, I take a tray to Miss Trent and the maid.”

  Nodding, Martha hefted a tray and followed Mrs. Chalmers to the dining room where Lady Vaughan and the children were already seated. Martha set her platter down and lifted the cover in unison with Mrs. Chalmers.

  Instead of acknowledging their services and the appetizing aroma, Lady Vaughan’s lip curled. “Cook, you cannot expect the children to eat only poultry in the middle of the day. There should be a pudding or at least a ham or some beef.”

  “Begging your pardon, my lady, but we’re very limited on meats. Most of the livestock is owned by the tenants, and we would need to bart
er a pig or a cow from them.” Mrs. Chalmers grew flushed during her speech.

  “Then tell Broadmoor to do something about it. I am accustomed to having veal on Fridays, so find a way to slaughter a calf by then.”

  “But, we’d have no way to cure and store the leftover meat—”

  “Dispose of it, if you must. Lud, you cannot convince me the former duke and duchess lived in anything but top style. I expect no less. I left London to take possession of this property, and I must say I’m constantly disappointed at the staff’s inability to resolve even the most minor problem. I fear I must discuss staffing with Minton.”