Winters had nodded, making a note to in his book. “I shall be sure a fire is laid for you in the mornings, my lady, and also in the music room,” he told her. “While the marquess reviewed our accounts from last month just last week, I thought you might like to go over them too, for your own understanding.”
Ellie nodded, “I shouldn’t imagine that I’ll need to review your ledgers until next month’s are sent to Ashberry Park, but it would be nice to have some understanding in advance.” She turned to the housekeeper, who had been giving a running commentary during the tour while Winters made a multitude of notes. “Mrs. Shannon, let us proceed.” The woman had smiled happily and done so, escorting them to the doors of nine bedchambers on the first floor besides Ashberry and Ellie’s.
On the third floor, Ellie opened each door of the servant chambers, noting that all had at least one dormer window to give it light and air, and that each was clean and organized, though the arrangement and furnishings varied by stature and gender. Griffin’s room was at the far northeastern corner and Wendy had her own room at the northwestern corner. The new marchioness was grateful to see that the rooms above his lordship’s bedchamber were unoccupied and used for storage, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she found that the nursery laundry occupied the space above her own boudoir, a room unlikely to be used late at night.
Two rooms for a tutor and nanny accompanied a large schoolroom. It had been recently cleaned and emptied because Spencer and Sidney’s tutor would be in residence with his charges at Sebastian and Lucy’s London home. Large Holland covers protected nursery furniture from London’s dust, but the rooms were large and had plenty of light when the dark drapes were pulled aside. There were several rooms—a playroom, the nursery itself, a separate sick room and an additional area for the attendants to use as a kitchen. Ellie meant to give it just a cursory look but was persuaded by the gleam on Mrs. Shannon’s face that a more thorough inspection might be appropriate. Despite her better intentions, a small sliver of desire for the rooms to be occupied found its way into her and she nearly hurried the other two along in her haste to escape it.
Ellie was not surprised to find that several hours had passed before her inspection was complete. They had even descended the service stairs and explored the kitchen, where Ellie had met the head cook, a jovial man named Banning who clearly enjoyed supervising the kitchen staff. He introduced Ellie to everyone in sight, from the delivery boys who brought fresh meat for the evening meal to his assistant, an Irishman named Brendan that Ellie immediately noted as less than enthusiastic about his position.
At mid-afternoon, she had a cup of tea while Winters explained how the house would slim down in size after the marquess and his wife left London. “The day staff will be relieved of their positions when you retire to Ashberry Park, my lady. His Lordship doesn’t expect to return until September and there is little need to pay them all to come and sit in the servant’s hall for nine months.”
The ‘day staff’ consisted of fourteen servants, and Ellie was glad to note that Winters had found positions for nearly all of them, some as day staff with Caroline and Charlotte, the rest in neighboring houses whose owners planned to return to London before the end of February.
“We also expect a few of the household to leave voluntarily, my lady,” he added, “Including the undercook, Brendan. I suspect he’s hoping Miss Caroline—Countess Eldenwood—will want him to be in charge of her kitchens in Ireland. He would be close to his parents there.”
Ellie considered several notions but decided intervention would not be wise. “If he’s not content, Mr. Winters, allow him to go when he chooses. Will it leave the kitchen short-staffed?”
Winters shrugged. “It will leave only Banning, my lady, since the kitchen maids will have been dismissed. When the house is closed, however, all of us do what needs to be done to go on. Mrs. Shannon, Banning, myself and the stable master Mr. Jameson will be in residence, though Mr. Jameson is more a pensioner than anyone else.”
The man was quite elderly and had been forcibly retired from running the stables at Ashberry Park after being kicked by a birthing mare, though Ashberry had told Ellie already that the man had bluntly refused to leave the marquess’ service. He had been quite reluctant, even, to listen to Ashberry’s orders that brought him to London, where the stable rarely contained more than four horses when the marquess was there and perhaps one when he was not. Ellie was hardly concerned about his presence in the house.
“Of the other resident servants, six maids, the underbutler, the gardener, three footmen, three menservants, and our waterman will remain.”
“Twenty?”
Ellie thought the number was high but Winters hurried to explain. “His Lordship requires several men to act as trusted couriers between London and Ashberry House and he prefers the footmen and menservants here to have the responsibility so often they are on the road. The maids have few duties, remaining here only for the use of their rooms—most will take positions as day workers in other houses in London until you and the marquess return. Generally, we expect the maids to drift away the longer the marquess remains in Cumbria but I am usually lucky in finding loyal staff before his lordship opens the house.”
Ellie nodded, accepting his explanation. It made sense and it was obvious many of the servants she had met had been in the house for some years, so the policy seemed to inspire at least some loyalty.
The two had spent two hours reviewing the account books that Winters brought for her. He had given her some time to consider them in private, but when he returned to the morning room she was full of questions, apologizing, “I know his lordship understands these to be necessary expenses and really, this is very economical given the size of the house, but I’m afraid I need you to explain to me what all these things actually are, since I wasn’t here when they were purchased and I am quite unused to the notations you’ve used.”
Winters had smiled, comfortable answering her queries and not at all nervous. Most of the questions Ellie had were traced to one of the two weddings held in the previous month or to the two sisters of the marquess.
Ellie was not surprised to hear that her husband made a habit of spending his afternoons at Westminster or his clubs and took her lunch in the morning room while she and Mrs. Shannon discussed the week’s menus. She supposed she would find out that evening whether he would choose to dine with her or not. Mrs. Shannon’s voice interrupted her wandering thoughts, the tone gentle and solicitous. “If you’d like to rest, my lady, we needn’t continue today.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Shannon. I believe I’ll retire to my sitting room for awhile, if there is no other pressing business?”
“Of course not, my lady,”
* * * *
Ashberry knelt at the end of the chaise as he watched his wife sleep. She was unconsciously graceful, her bosom lifting and falling in a soft, regular rhythm. He had found Wendy in Ellie’s dressing room, mending a shift and had been directed here, to her ladyship’s new sitting room. She had clearly started to read, for the book was still open, but it had been doomed to the floor. Ashberry looked at it curiously, smiling to himself when he saw the title: A Brief History of the Battles Against Scotland To 1500. His wife was taking her role as marchioness seriously, a trait he greatly appreciated.
For the moment, though, he was eager to watch her in a purely natural state, uninhibited by his presence and he supposed sleep was the only purely natural state he was going to be able to enjoy that day. He took his time examining her, noting the rosy color of her cheeks from the warmth of the fire. Her gown had a round neckline with a white lace collar and the necklace he had presented to her the night before hung down to the point just where the curve of her breasts started to shape the front of the gown. Her waist was slender and the dress was fitted to the narrow curve with piping the same conservative dark green color of her gown.
It was a wool dress and Ashberry wondered if she found it at all uncomfortable against the soft skin of he
r arms. Below her skirts, he knew, cotton petticoats would offset the harshness of the wool and below that her legs would be covered with fine silk. She wore patent leather boots below her dress, their heels comfortable for walking but not as stilted as the fashionable shoes of the ballroom. He wondered if she knew how tempted he felt just by the toes of her boots, for they peeked out below the hem of her skirts where her legs hung from the end of the chaise.
He wondered, too, if Ellie knew how moved he had been by the music that she had brought to the house, how he had gone to stare mindlessly at the portrait of his mother he had tenderly re-hung in the library years earlier, how he had ached inside when the music ended. Ashberry knew now why the tips of her precious fingers had shown just the slightest hint of use and why her nails were carefully trimmed back just slightly more than one would expect from a woman of their class.
Without really thinking, Ashberry unzipped one of her boots and slid it off, repeating the motion on the second foot. He set both aside, noting how small her toes seemed compared to his. Visible even from inside her stockings, he absorbed their shapeliness and the extent of her grooming, for each toe laid just so perfectly next to the others and each nail shined from her attentions. As he watched, her toes curled and her ankles crossed, as if in her sleep she knew to sit properly.
A smile spread across his face even as he swallowed heavily. He dared to slide a hand around the outside of each foot, the silk not much of a barrier to the warm skin beneath.
* * * *
Ellie rubbed her eyes with the back of one hand, starting to sit up when the warmth around her feet jolted her awake. She gasped, sitting up in shock until she saw that it was Ashberry who was kneeling at her feet, his hands cupping the pads of her feet in his hands.
The confused words escaped her before she had the sense to stop them. “My lord?”
Only when their eyes caught did she remember his threat and his earlier invocation of it, her own widening at the realization. “I mean, Ashberry,” she whispered, already knowing she was caught. “You surprised me,” she offered lamely, even to her own ears.
His mouth quirked as he released her feet, standing and moving to her side, where he again knelt, his hands coming to rest on each elbow as he turned her to face him. She watched distantly, as if she couldn’t feel his hands as they slid up her arms and over her shoulders, then higher to cup each side of her face. They were large, even larger when he held them so against her, and their warmth seeped into her ears and skull. Relentlessly, he pulled her forward, his own eyes determined despite the skittishness in her expression. She pursed them together but he didn’t pull away.
“I suppose you might consider yourself lucky,” he whispered when their mouths were so close that she could feel the change in the air as he spoke.
“Why?” The word could hardly be heard but it somehow found its way between them.
The answer came just before his lips rested against her. “Senseless,” he breathed, “Will hardly take any time at all.” It didn’t, of course. Her eyes closed and her hands compulsively gripped the upholstery at her sides. He kept his eyes open, knowing instantly when the contact of their lips registered in her mind, for her face softened and her mouth rounded into an astonished open circle. He forced himself to ignore what would have been an invitation from a more experienced lady, but moved to press his lips more firmly to each corner of her lips, chuckling deeply when she drew a sharp, short breath. Deciding immediately that she didn’t appear to be senseless quite yet, he caught her lower lip between his and licked the tip of his tongue along its bottom edge.
Only when she trembled and gasped did he pull back, pursing his lips together to retain the warmth of her mouth at the edge of his. Her eyes showed shock but not disgust, so he rocked back on his heels and waited, taking his own deep breath to restore his poise. She did not disappoint him, her eyes clearing after a few seconds, fewer than he expected. His heart nearly stopped, his body steeling in pain, when her tongue crept from her mouth to wet her lips.
Her mouth still burning, Ellie frantically tried to find something to say. He seemed to be waiting for her but she couldn’t seem to see past the fog that had formed in her brain. The words seemed rushed and they didn’t reflect the amazement or warmth that continued to well inside her, but he seem satisfied, even pleased, by them. “I’m—I’m awake now.”
“I came,” he smiled gently, “To see if you wished to go out at all today. I thought we might stroll around the Square, if nothing else, for a breath of fresh air before dinner.”
The stroll was chilly, but pleasant, and most importantly to both Ellie and Ashberry, public.
They talked little, since Ellie’s overcoat and shawl covered her mouth from the frosty air.
She was thankful to be relieved from the unfamiliar tension that seemed to seep between them when they were alone now and the company provided by the servants, children and carriages in the surroundings street and in the Square gave her the minutes she needed to regain her equilibrium. Ashberry was a solicitous escort, clasping her hand on his arm and slowing his naturally quick pace to her more measured one.
Dusk was settling on the city when they returned to the house, where Alexander held the door open and took Ashberry’s hat. A footman came to assist Ellie but Ashberry waved him off, unwrapping her himself and smiling as her head and face came into sight.
Together, they entered the main gallery and climbed the staircase while Ellie told him about her day. “I was surprised,” she admitted, “That no one came to call.”
“I’m not,” he smiled down at her. “I would be surprised to see anyone for several more days even. We are, after all, on our honeymoon.” He looked at her. “Did you wish for your mother to call?” he asked quietly.
Ellie shrugged. “Not particularly,” she answered, seeming surprised by her own answer, “Though I can’t say that I’ve gone this long without seeing her since I was seventeen and she and Papa came to London with only Edward.” She smiled. “At the time, I was furious that I was being left to the care of my governess.” Almost as if it was natural, they proceeded together into her sitting room and turned to the dressing room.
“You don’t need one now,” Ashberry said, pleased inwardly that he hadn’t so frightened her. If she hadn’t felt the need to seek the support of her mother, he reasoned, he couldn’t have upset her overly much.
EIGHT
Ellie saw the heavy rosewood jewelry cabinet almost as soon as her skirts stopped their whispers on the floor. “Oh!” she gasped, turning to Ashberry.
He nodded, affirming her unasked question, smiling much as a victor at the end of a race when she rushed to it and ran her hands over the polished wood. “Do you like it?” he asked unnecessarily, leaning against the wall and watching her trace the fine inlaid ebony that outlined each drawer pull, door handle and the cover. Two wide, tall doors on the front locked with an elegant brass key that Ellie examined carefully. Inside were a plethora of small compartments and she lovingly opened each one, testing each movement.
“Oh yes,” she finally answered, looking at him curiously. “How did you know I needed this?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t really, except that you have never worn much jewelry so I assumed you didn’t have the need for one.”
“I still don’t have the need for such a fine cabinet,” she shrugged, “But I realized this morning that I didn’t have anything in which to keep your mother’s jewels, or the beautiful pin you gave me, when I was not wearing them.”
“The cabinet, Ella dear, is large enough to keep the family pieces and whatever else I buy for you over the years.” He came to stand beside her, taking her arms and turning her to him before leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I’m glad you like it—I thought we’d move it to Ashberry Park with us, as we'll be there most of the year.”
“I do love it,” she replied quite seriously, “It was wonderful of you to think of it and I wouldn’t have chosen anything nearly this fine for myse
lf.”
He nodded, wishing she would smile but understanding that she intended him to know she was in earnest. He took his thumbs and lifted the corners of her mouth to form a smile on her lips and the smile that followed was quite natural. “Dinner is usually in an hour,” he said softly. “There’s no need for your finest gown—I expect it will just be the two of us this evening. Sebastian and the boys drove up to Harlan Chase today. I imagine they are quite enjoying themselves and will stay for a few more days before returning to London.”
“Do you usually eat dinner here at the house?” she asked, the normalcy of the question giving her the opportunity to step back.
Ashberry didn’t answer for a moment, but simply watched her. “I will when you do,” he finally said.
Ellie understood his answer to mean that he preferred otherwise. “You don’t need to entertain me,” she started to say, but then stopped herself, adding more slowly, “Oh, the besotted groom?”
The marquess smiled, as if to affirm her question, but wished desperately that he could lift her in his arms and carry her into the bedroom, where dinner would not be a necessary excuse for interacting with his wife. “I will see you soon, my dear,” he said simply, stepping back and moving through her boudoir to his own rooms.
After Wendy helped Ellie inspect the cabinet more closely, she helped her to dress. “The marquess said I did not need to be extravagant, Wendy,” Ellie told her. “It’s just the two of us for dinner this evening.”
Embracing Ashberry Page 12
