Even if it hurt her to do so.
“Bear up,” she whispered, chiding herself for her selfishness. The earl obviously knew more about raising a boy than she had given him credit for. Jamey had been perfectly fine when he’d finally returned to Solgrave with his father two days ago, and Rebecca had been the one who had looked like a fool for being concerned about nothing.
Giving him up to this new world—a world in which she would play no role—was proving to be extremely difficult, for Jamey had been Rebecca’s sole purpose in life for so many years. But she knew she must, and she firmly intended to unwind the reins of authority from her hands. He was Lord Stanmore’s responsibility now…as he should be. The bright colors of the landscape outside her window blurred momentarily as they had done so often for the past few days.
There was nothing like a day spent in solitude, though, to force a person to seek answers. There were so many questions that pulled at her. More uncertainties than Jamey’s relationship with his father distracted her, gnawed at her. Rebecca still didn’t know the true cause of Elizabeth’s flight with her baby. What was it in her marriage, in this man, that had driven her away so many years ago?
No one mentioned her name. There were no portraits of her in the gallery of family likenesses. In spite of being the only wife of the earl of Stanmore and the mother of the future earl, she was more like a vapor that had drifted in on a breeze, only to disappear as quickly as she had come. It was as if she had never existed.
And if that were not distressing enough, Rebecca’s own attraction to Stanmore was driving her insane. The memory of his kiss lingered, making sleep impossible and causing her to daydream like a fool in her waking hours.
But she could not go on like this.
Rebecca knew what she must do. First of all, she must assume a more appropriate position in the activities of the household. From the first moment of her arrival—despite the plain and worn clothing, despite the fact that she was a common working woman from the colonies—everyone at Solgrave had treated her like gentry, and she had allowed it. This, however, was a mistake that she would soon set to rights. Though she was not employed by his lordship, in rank and social status she was no higher than his servants. Guest or not, she would have Mrs. Trent move her to a less conspicuous room—nearer the servants’ wing, perhaps. Then it would be easier for all of them to accept things as they really were. And she could begin to think of a way of repaying the earl for all of these new clothes.
Determined on her course of action Rebecca left her room and set off down the corridor toward the narrow stairs that led to the kitchens and the servants’ wing.
She had seen Jamey early, before he’d gone downstairs for breakfast this morning. He would be spending the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon with Mr. Clarke. Everything would work out better, she thought, if she could move from her room while the lad was occupied with his lessons.
She was halfway down the backstairs, though, when she saw a young serving woman carrying a silver tray upstairs. The servant’s surprise showed on her face before she could avert her eyes.
“Mrs. Ford.” The girl gave a small curtsy before looking up at her. “Mrs. Trent was told that you were still unwell, ma’am, so she sent me up with some tea and toast for you, if that suits you. If you don’t mind me asking, are you feeling better, ma’am?”
“I am, thank you. I can take this now.” Rebecca took the tray out of the woman’s hand. “I was a little tired yesterday, but I feel much better this morning.”
“Then perhaps you might like to have breakfast in the dining room. The earl is a very early riser—up and gone, he is—but Master James and Mr. Clarke are still—”
“Not this morning, Ellen. It is Ellen, isn’t it?”
The girl gave another curtsy and smiled slightly. “Aye, ma’am.”
“Has Mrs. Trent taken her own breakfast, yet?”
“She has, ma’am, hours ago. But I saw her talking to Daniel in the servant’s hall not too long ago. Would you like me to fetch her for you?”
Rebecca glanced down the stairs. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you lead the way, and maybe I can have my breakfast there while I’ll speak with Mrs. Trent.”
“With us serv…?” A deep blush colored Ellen’s freckled face. “If that’s what you wish, ma’am…”
There were at least a dozen people talking and having their morning meal at the long table in the servant’s hall. But all conversation ceased the moment Rebecca entered the room. Everyone’s gaze focused on the doorway, spoons and knives forgotten in there hands as she nodded tentatively at them. Instantly, everyone stood up.
Feeling the awkwardness of the moment, Rebecca clutched the silver tray in her hand and searched the room for familiar faces. They were many she knew, but they all simply stood in complete silence.
“Mrs. Ford thought she’d take her breakfast in the—here instead of in the dining room. She was—Mrs. Ford was looking for Mrs. Trent.” Ellen’s explanation only made the faces look more incredulous.
A sudden thought sprang up in Rebecca’s mind that perhaps there was nowhere that she belonged at Solgrave. She was ready to back out of the door when Daniel, followed by a taller and older-looking man, entered the servant’s hall from another door.
“Why, Mrs. Ford! How wonderful to see you!” The steward approached, his greeting so enthusiastic that Rebecca felt the weight partially lift from her shoulders. “We’re so pleased that you are feeling better. Please, ma’am, allow me.”
He took the tray and handed it to the young serving woman.
“Ellen, take this…and tell the cook to send a fresh pot of tea to the library.”
As soon as the girl ran off, Daniel lowered his voice and spoke in a confidential tone, “I hope there is no problem that required your presence in this wing? If there is anything that we have done that has failed to please you…”
“Not at all, Daniel. I needed to speak with Mrs. Trent on a matter of little importance. Other than that, however, I felt it is wise to allow Mr. Clarke and James start their lessons this morning with no distraction from me.”
“I understand, ma’am. If you so desire, I will tell her to meet you in the library. His lordship told me expressly to see that you are made to feel comfortable there. The view of the lake is absolutely stunning with the morning light, if I may say so. And between the books in his lordship’s collection and newspapers that are sent down from London, perhaps...”
“I am truly feeling quite well,” she assured the steward with a smile. “There is nothing that I need, Daniel.”
“I am delighted to hear that, ma’am. I would be honored to escort you.” He gestured with a bow toward the door through which he had entered.
Rebecca knew that Daniel was trying to tell her, in the gentlest of tones, that her status at Solgrave would be no less than that of a proper guest of Lord Stanmore, and her brow creased. This presented an unforeseen obstacle to her plan.
“I don’t mean to be a burden. Perhaps I should wait in my room, and…”
“If I may speak bluntly, ma’am…” the steward said encouragingly, ignoring the older man behind him who cleared his throat in obvious disapproval. “If I may be so bold as to say, ma’am, your company was sorely missed yesterday. Your presence would be very comforting for Master James…and for his lordship himself, I might add…if you are well enough to be about, today. May I?”
Rebecca didn’t know what to say to the determined steward. So she nodded. Clearly, her only chance of making a change lay with Mrs. Trent. As she started to follow, though, she hesitated at the tall man standing behind Daniel.
“Ah! Mrs. Ford. Please forgive me. Allow me to introduce Philip, his lordship’s steward in London.”
At his deep bow, Rebecca nodded gently. Beneath his powdered wig, the man’s face bore no expression, whatsoever. Seeing the two men standing shoulder to shoulder, she recalled overhearing a conversation between a servant and a gardener outside her window
yesterday. Something about “Daniel’s granite-faced old tyrant of a brother.”
“Why, I have heard something about Philip!” she said in pleasant tones, meeting the older man’s unchanging gaze. “You must be Daniel’s twin brother.”
CHAPTER 15
Mrs. Trent patted her on the hand and shook her head.
“I am afraid that is quite out of the question, my dear.”
Frustration washed down Rebecca’s back. The housekeeper had, at first, looked genuinely distressed when she expressed her wish to change rooms. The older woman’s expression had quickly softened into looks of affection, though, as Rebecca had tried to explain. The refusal might be gentle, but it was definite.
“But Mrs. Trent, I have explained to you that the bedchamber I now occupy should be reserved for visitors of…of quality.”
“Quality? Posh! A fine dress does not make someone ‘quality,’ dear. And I can tell you from years of experience that a title does not ensure quality either. Quality is a gift from the lord above. And you have it. So let us not speak any more of this.”
“But Mrs. Trent, I am no one of any account. I sincerely believe that if I were to move to quarters that were more appropriate—”
“Hush! Just hush that kind of talk, dear. I have lived in service here at Solgrave my entire life. I have seen all manner of high born lords and ladies come and go through those front doors. I am speaking for everyone when I say you have more quality in one little finger than many of…” She stopped and took Rebecca’s hand. “Nay, my dear. We’ll just leave things be, I should think.”
“Mrs. Trent…”
“Why, just look at how those of us in service are acting. My, dear, I never thought I’d live to see the day when Philip and Daniel would agree on a thing without a quarrel.” The woman’s round face broke into a broad grin. “’Tis true! On my way up here, I was stopped by Philip, only to have him remind me that I shouldn’t be keeping you waiting. Now, mind you, this from Philip! Why, the man has never shown such…well, enthusiasm in all the time I’ve known him.”
“That doesn’t count,” Rebecca argued, crossing the library to one of the large windows. “I happened to charm him by saying I thought he and Daniel were twins. Philip might be partial to me now, but Daniel will likely never speak to me again.”
“Posh! Daniel lies awake thinking of ways we can better serve you.” The heavyset woman started pouring tea into a cup. “It has been a long time since we’ve had a real lady here at Solgrave to care for. Now come and sit and forget about all this nonsense of moving anywhere.”
“Mrs. Trent, I am in the way,” Rebecca persisted. “I have the best of the intentions, but as long as I am around them, I found myself trespassing into areas where I should no longer…where I have no right to be trespassing.”
“I should think ten years of raising the lad on your own…and as well as you have…in that land of Quakers and other barbarians gives you every right, my dear! Could we sit here together for a moment or two?”
Rebecca stared at the cup of tea the housekeeper was holding to her. She had no choice but move away from her perch at the window and join Mrs. Trent.
“And don’t start talking so soon of leaving, either, as it hasn’t even been a week since you’ve arrived and that lad still needs you…as is only natural, to my way of thinking.”
Rebecca felt her stomach lurch at the mere mention of the words. She was so far from ready to part with Jamey. Though things were progressing as she’d hoped, she still harbored unanswered questions about Lord Stanmore’s past, and undiminished concerns about Jamey’s future. Beyond that, she couldn’t even bear to think about her own feelings or the empty life that awaited her back in America.
“But don’t think you need to be looking over Master James’s shoulder all the time. Between Mr. Clarke and the rest of us, he’ll be closely tended. Still, you need to stay close enough for the young master to see that all is well.”
Rebecca sipped the tea, but said nothing.
“I know this is the country, and not much seems to go on here. You might have enjoyed yourself more if the earl had arranged for you to spend some time in London, to my thinking, but—”
“I have no desire to go to London. I insisted that we come here.”
Mrs. Trent gave her an approving smile. “Well, if you know where to look, there is plenty to do here at Solgrave. Why, the gallery has paintings that folks have come from nearly every capital on the continent to view. And as you can see, his lordship has a fine library. And the countryside hereabouts has some very fine walks. Why, there is even a point where his lordship’s mother had a seat erected at the base of an ancient oak. The view the spot commands is lovely, my dear, truly lovely. And if you ride, the paths through the park-woods are quite invigorating, they tell me, though I’ve never been a rider myself. And Knebworth Village, such as it is, lies not far to the east of us. But of course, this Sunday after church, his lordship will surely be introducing you to some of the neighboring gentry. Aye, my dear, you’ll see for yourself, we have much to recommend us here in the country.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that in the slightest, Mrs. Trent. It’s just that I…well, I am not accustomed to a life of such…well, leisurely activity.” Rebecca knew this was another part of her problem. She knew that such enforced idleness would soon give way to fanciful thinking and dreaming, occupations she had no right to engage in. “Is there anything that I could do in the village?”
“Do, my dear? You mean work?” Mrs. Trent’s eyes rounded in shock at the mere suggestion.
“Well, something constructive with which I might occupy my time.” Rebecca replied hopefully. “Everything here at Solgrave is taken care of. Under Daniel’s and your stewardship, the manor operates so efficiently. With James to spend most of his days with Mr. Clarke, I thought if there were a school for girls nearby, perhaps, that might have need for a tutor. Or a minister who knows of some charity work that needs doing.”
The housekeeper’s curious gaze softened, and she reached and placed her warm hand over Rebecca’s. “You are precious. Wait until I tell this to Daniel and…”
“Oh, please don’t!” she interrupted at once. “My intentions are to be of some use to someone else and to give myself some distance to Jamey’s daily activities. The last thing I need now is people thinking of me as something more than I am.”
The housekeeper tapped her on the knee. “Say what you will, my dear, but others around here know already what good heart you have.“
“Thank you,” Rebecca murmured softly, taking a sip of tea to hide her blushing face. She was not very good with praise, especially when it was as lacking in foundation as this. “So is there anyone I could go and see, Mrs. Trent? Anyone at Knebworth Village?”
She placed the cup back on the saucer and waited patiently as the housekeeper gave her question some thought.
“As a matter of fact, there are two people in the village who I know for certain will jump at your offer of help. But before I go into that, there is something that you should know about our village.” The housekeeper paused and poured more tea into Rebecca’s cup. “The village stands on the land that is part Solgrave, and all the people living there are tenants of his lordship. But for the past eight years—since the father fell ill and the son took charge—there has been no collection of rents.”
The earl of Stanmore is a very generous man, Rebecca thought. A frown creased her brow at the realization that every day she was finding more things that she liked about the peer.
“His lordship has never held with the idea that a tradition needs to be preserved—if folks are suffering because of it. The village is self-supporting between its farming and the tradesmen there, and the Stanmore wealth can easily do without what his lordship might be collecting from his tenants.” Mrs. Trent cast a quick glance at the direction of the portrait hanging above the hearth. Rebecca followed her gaze, taking in the depiction of an older man. “I must be truthful with you, my dear, our S
amuel Wakefield spent little enough time in the company of his father, and it was a good thing, too. Bless him, his lordship’s father could not easily be called a generous soul. But I only tell you this so that you’ll understand the esteem the village folk have for the master. And for the most part, if they think they are offering you something that might incur his lordship’s displeasure, well…” She shook her head doubtfully.
Samuel Wakefield, the earl of Stanmore. Rebecca recalled the first mention of the name as she’d faced Sir Oliver in the doorway to her rooms in Philadelphia. She looked about the spacious library. Her gaze was drawn once again to the formidable demeanor of the father looking down at them.
“Now where was I?”
Rebecca returned her attention to the woman sitting before her. “You were going to recommend some people in the village to me.”
“Aye. The Reverend Mr. Trimble…and Mr. Cunningham. The first is the rector at the church, and the second is the schoolmaster for our little schoolhouse.” Mrs. Trent held up a hand. But before you ask why Mr. Cunningham wasn’t asked to come and tutor Master James, I should tell you that the schoolmaster is quite busy enough with his duties about the area. He and Reverend Trimble have formed a partnership, of sorts, to poke their heads in wherever there’s a need. And that is why I have to warn you…between the two of them, you might not find a moment’s rest left to you. So you have to be specific in your asking. You are looking for something little to do. You don’t want to spend your days at their beck and call. You…”
“I believe I’ll take a walk down to the village this morning.” Rebecca put the cup and saucer down. She was already feeling better about everything. This is exactly what she needed—a distraction and some distance from Solgrave…and its master.
The Promise Page 16
