Silver Bells

by Heather Boyd

  She stopped and turned. “Why ever not?”

  “He hardly ever comes down.” Hector drew closer so he could whisper.

  “Oh!” she gasped. “But still, Lady Vyne might not want Pip running around.”

  He looked at her in confusion. “Surely you’ve heard? Lady Vyne is not here. She left Vyne almost a year ago. Took the children, packed her trunks, and has been living in Cornwall with Lord Clement and m’sister Meg—whom he married by the way.”

  “He never told me about my aunt.”

  Hector rolled his eyes. “Vyne lies, quite frequently, and he is known for keeping his own counsel, especially when it’s a sensitive topic. I really would not put much faith in anything he might promise, too, if I were you.”

  She pulled her child to her side and stroked his pale hair. “I’m sure that’s not the case. He wouldn’t lie to me. I’m his niece. Family.”

  “Then you might be a rare bird indeed, but I am not wrong about your aunt.” Hector gestured her to the arrangement of chairs before the warm fire. “Please join me.”

  Ruby shook her head again. “Do excuse us.”

  To his regret, Ruby flew from the room, dragging her son along with her. Hector followed along a few steps, but she was soon only a memory.

  A pity she went so quickly. He’d only now remembered that Ruby Clement was the first girl he’d ever kissed. Since it was Christmas, and she was quite pretty, he hoped to be in a position to claim a second under the mistletoe…and do a much better job this year.

  Chapter 6

  Ruby returned her son to her chamber, told him to play quietly, and then went in search of a servant. Hector suggested she had been lied to, but that couldn’t be right. Her uncle surely would have told her of her aunt’s absence when she asked to talk of her marriage with the woman. And she’d experienced enough of Hector as a boy not to believe anything he would say without confirming it first.

  At last she found a maid, who stammered out that Lady Vyne was not receiving.

  That didn’t sound promising. “Perhaps you could ask if Lady Vyne would make an exception for her eldest niece.”

  “It’s not my place to interrupt her, madam,” the girl warned.

  Ruby narrowed her eyes, suspecting she was being lied to again. “Then whose is it?”

  The maid wet her lips and became visibly distressed. “I could ask the housekeeper.”

  Ruby could ask, too, and get the answer she wanted in quicker time. “I should like to speak to the housekeeper myself.”

  The maid’s eyes grew round.

  “Take me to her,” she said. “Now.”

  The little maid uttered a muffled wail.

  Ruby hadn’t been so long in the wilderness of Scotland not to remember how to deal with reluctant servants. “I hope you’re not going to tell me the housekeeper is too busy to speak with a member of Lord Vyne’s family,” Ruby asked, raising one brow.

  “No, madam,” the maid promised as she bobbed a curtsy and bid her follow her to the main staircase.

  They went down to the entrance hall together but turned away from the sealed front doors and the library, where Lord Stockwick might still be if she bothered to look. Behind the stairs, there was an entrance to the servants’ hall below. Although, at first glance, it seemed merely a paneled wall rather than a doorway.

  Ruby descended after the maid, skirts lifted to clear the steps. The passage down was narrow, and the air musty and cold, and Ruby was very happy to see light seeping around a lower door.

  They burst out into the warm, fragrant air of the servants’ hall. The scent of roasting meat and baking bread was strong and reminded her of her former Scotland home. Farther down the hall, she could see servants bent over a large worktable, consulting each other as they toiled for Lord Vyne.

  “This way, madam,” the maid urged in a whisper.

  Ruby was turned away from the kitchen staff and shown to a plain oak door with a brass plaque attached to it. Housekeeper.

  The maid knocked and entered when bid.

  Ruby waited outside a moment to give the maid a chance to explain her presence, and then stepped into the room. A severe-looking woman with gray hair and dark clothes sat behind a small desk sipping tea, but set that aside quickly when she spotted Ruby.

  Ruby smiled. “You must be the housekeeper.”

  “Yes, I am Mrs. Burrows. I am housekeeper of The Vynes.”

  Ruby didn’t remember meeting the woman on her last visit. “I am hoping you can help me speak with Lady Vyne today.”

  Mrs. Burrows pursed her lips, and then she sent the maid away. “She is not to be disturbed. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Yes, the truth would be appreciated. Is my aunt here or not?”

  Again the woman pursed her lips. “I shall be happy to pass a message to Lord Vyne that you wish to speak with the countess.”

  “If I wanted to trouble my uncle, I would have already asked him about his wife a second time,” she said quietly.

  The housekeeper’s jaw twitched. “You will have to wait to speak with Lord Vyne.”

  “Why will you not tell me about my aunt’s whereabouts? I promise you, I hold her in the highest esteem. Is she in ill health?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “A housekeeper would know everything there is to know about the occupants of the house she is mistress of,” Ruby argued. “I can only conclude that my aunt is not here, and I also suspect now that my uncle doesn’t want her location divulged by the servants. Not even to me.”

  The housekeeper tilted her head to one side. “I cannot help what you suspect.”

  “No, you cannot.” Ruby pulled a face. Hector had told the truth about Lord Vyne’s marriage. “How sad that I will likely not see her. There was so much I hoped to ask her.”

  “I am sorry I could not be more help.”

  Ruby nodded slowly. “Thank you for seeing me. But one last question. I don’t suppose you ever found the silver bell I lost when I was here last time.”

  “I am sorry to say it is not in my possession, madam, or I would have gladly returned it to you long ago,” the housekeeper promised as she led Ruby back into the hallway door.

  If her bell was not in the housekeeper’s possession, or her servants, it meant it had been well and truly lost all those years ago. Seeing Hector again here had stirred up an irrational hope she might be reunited with her long-lost keepsake, but it was not to be.

  As she was about to ask another question, the housekeeper spoke again. “Should you require anything within our power, the servants of The Vynes are at your disposal. Please use the bells of the house next time.”

  In other words, no more browbeating the servants into bringing her downstairs again. It wasn’t a surprising request. By rights, Ruby ought to have kept to the upper floors where the family normally would spend all of their time. “Perhaps next time I have a question, the maids might simply do me the courtesy of telling me what I need to know.”

  The housekeeper inclined her head.

  The maid was waiting beside the servants’ stairs and led her back up to the entrance hall without another word. They parted ways upstairs, not far from Ruby’s chamber.

  If her aunt was not here, and her cousins were not here, but on their way, she was in for a cold and lonely Christmas indeed, worrying over who her uncle might want her to marry in exchange for his help.

  “You only had to look in this room to learn I was telling the truth,” Lord Stockwick said suddenly, startling her out of her wits. He was standing just down the hall, his hand on a door latch. He pushed the door wide and stepped back with a smile. “The countess’ chamber is right here, just down from yours.”

  Ruby wet her lips and hurried forward, sweeping past him to see for herself. She entered a room covered in white cloths and so cold, she shivered.

  “They’re all like that. Cold and closed up,” Lord Stockwick promised.

  Ruby didn’t remember this chamber.
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br />   Hector went to a wall and tugged on a white cloth draped over a picture frame, showering himself in the dust. He uncovered a portrait of her aunt as Ruby remembered her looking years go.

  Hector cursed softly, batting at his sleeves and dusty hair. “I should have known that would happen,” he complained, and then he sneezed. “She hasn’t lived in this room for ten months or more.”

  “The servants have been neglectful.”

  “The servants were probably ordered to shut up the room and forget the countess even existed.” Hector shook his head. “He’s a spiteful, nasty man, your uncle. You’d best be cautious of him and whatever plans he has for you.”

  “Why do you think he has plans for me?”

  “I have been Clement’s confidant for many years. Vyne makes plans for everyone in his family and cares little what you all think of them, so long as he has his way.”

  Distressed by that remark, Ruby went to the window and drew back the drape to look out. This room was at the front of the house, overlooking the drive. The best view, she thought. Lord Vyne’s bedchamber was on the other side of the house in a similar position of importance. “What do you suspect he is planning for me?”

  “I don’t know, which makes me suspicious. Last year he made a wager with his son. Dangling freedom for Lady Vyne and her children if he wed within three months. He’d even gone so far as to pick out the bride, too.”

  “But didn’t you say Clement married your sister?”

  “A mistake in the wording of the wager that I don’t think he’ll make again. Clement married my sister because he fell in love with her, winning the wager true—but not how Lord Vyne intended things to turn out.” Hector scrubbed his jaw. “You said you were Mrs. Roper now?”

  Ruby always hated when people questioned her marital status. “Yes. I’m a widow,” she admitted.

  “Ah, then you ought to be careful you don’t find yourself married again too quickly,” he warned. “Vyne is not above using his own family to settle his debts with an advantageous match that profits him more than you.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t do that to me,” she lied, knowing full well she had put her future in her uncle’s control.

  Hector shrugged. “Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when the next arrival at The Vynes turns out to be a bachelor in want of a wife.”

  She looked at him curiously. “Are you married?”

  His eyes narrowed. “No, and I intend to stay this way for a long time to come,” he promised before excusing himself and sauntering back out into the hall.

  Chapter 7

  Hector was rudely awakened by the clang of a fire poker striking the hearth. “Do you have to do that now?”

  “Sorry, my lord,” Parker apologized. “The fire needs to be relit.”

  Hector pulled himself up from his warm bed and scowled at his valet. “Why did you let it go out in the first place?”

  “It won’t happen again. I’ve been trying to find out more about Mrs. Roper for you and the guest who is expected to arrive. It has been a frustrating morning all round. The servants here are less forthcoming than any I’ve ever met.”

  “Vyne’s influence, I’m sure,” Hector concluded.

  He shivered. The room was damn cold, and Hector only wore the bedsheet and a thick blanket over him. He never wore a nightshirt, preferring nothing to come between him and the perfect night of rest. Uncomfortably chilled, he glanced over the side of the bed, but his clothes from last night were missing from the floor. Cursing his new valet’s efficiency, Hector burrowed back under the bedding. His last man had known not to do any valeting before luncheon.

  But it was no use. Hector was cold and wide awake. He’d have to get up and dress.

  Bracing himself, he rolled out of bed and rushed to his traveling trunks, pawing through his clothes to find his warmest garments urgently.

  “My lord, please, don’t ruin my morning’s work on your wardrobe,” Parker cried out in anguish. “I had everything pressed and ready to wear.”

  “I want my warmest clothes on me today.” Hector spared the discarded clothing a fleeting glance. “I’d like not to freeze to death.”

  “Here, let me help you,” the man offered, easing between him and the remaining clothing. He offered up an undershirt, then a recently ironed white linen shirt. Hose came next, then long trousers that secured under the arch of his foot. He put on his favorite boots and the thickest wool waistcoat he owned, and then a brown wool coat, longer than he’d typically wear. Hector had come to The Vynes prepared for the great chill of the place.

  Finally starting to warm up, he moved to the fire but quickly saw the pitiful flames would never warm him the rest of the way. “You cannot allow the fire to die down again. This is the coldest place on earth. There must always be a good fire in my room. Always.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” Parker said as he rushed to the fire again and began to poke it.

  The fire, if anything, burned a little less. This would never do. “Stop poking it. Give it time to catch properly again.”

  Parker finally sat back on his heels and rubbed his arms. “This might take a while.”

  “Yes, it probably will.”

  Parker looked up at him “I believe there is a good fire burning just down the hall in the upstairs parlor.”

  “That will have to do.” He frowned. “Why was the upstairs parlor lit?”

  “Mrs. Roper and her son are there already,” Parker explained, adding a little kindling to the meager flames.

  “Ah,” Hector murmured. “The widow.”

  Parker looked up at him again. “Is there something wrong?”

  “Yes. No. She’s a widow,” he complained.

  “Why is that an issue? Were you not a frequent companion of Lady Freemont’s, a widow, just last month?”

  “The month before.” Hector scowled. “You know, for a relatively new employee, you know far too much about my life.”

  “I can’t help it if your servants talk, my lord,” he murmured, adding more fuel to the fire before standing up to face him. “It is a regrettable facet of downstairs life in every place but here.”

  Hector grunted. “The problem is she, Mrs. Roper, is Lord Vyne’s niece, and…”

  “And?”

  “I find her much too attractive.”

  “Pretty women are one of life’s joys,” Parker suggested with a cheeky smile.

  “Indeed they are quite the distraction. Except when there is a genuine danger of becoming leg-shackled to one by accident.”

  “Is that likely here?”

  Hector sighed. “Normally when confronted by a pretty woman, I wouldn’t hesitate to spend time with them. Alone, preferably. The boy is a deterrent to a romantic pursuit, surely, but I find myself wondering about her, and that isn’t good. Perhaps it is the solitude of the place that draws me to her. But here, at this time, the lady has no chaperone but the boy, no family but Lord Vyne, and he is keeping to his chambers. If my sister were here, I’d have reason to linger in her presence to learn more about her, and perhaps who knows where that could lead. But I would not appreciate compromising Mrs. Roper by mistake because of a lack of chaperone.”

  “I see your point. Being forced to marry would be unpleasant.”

  Hector grunted.

  “However, can you ignore Mrs. Roper until Lord and Lady Clement arrive? That seems a touch rude when there’s little here to amuse either one of you.”

  Parker was only repeating what Hector himself had thought about last night, as he’d bid her good night. He couldn’t avoid her too much and not be considered rude. “I agree.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to be discreet about how much time you spend together. Lord Vyne has not left his room in several days, and it is freezing today.”

  “So you suspect he might not come out at all.”

  Parker nodded. “I could keep watch for Lord Vyne or his man, and warn you if anyone starts lurking if you like.”

 
“That won’t be necessary,” Hector warned. “I am quite capable of discretion.”

  “Suit yourself. But I have to admit that if I were in your shoes, I probably wouldn’t regret having to marry someone like Mrs. Roper under any circumstances. She is very lovely to look at.”

  Hector studied the man sourly. “Keep your eyes on the fire.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Parker chuckled softly. “I’d suggest you hurry along to that warm room before you catch a chill.”

  Hector glanced behind Parker and saw the flames had died out entirely while they’d been conversing. “Yes, I suppose I should go. You’ve somehow managed to put the fire out completely now.”

  Parker uttered a curse and then knelt before the hearth to tend the fire again.

  Hector left him to it, found gloves and his scarf, and wrapped the latter around his neck for the short journey down the hall. But he found himself rather too keen to be given any excuse to spend time with the delectable Mrs. Roper. She was rather lovely and, if not for the boy, available.

  Chapter 8

  A tap at the door woke Ruby from a fitful doze. “Come in?” she called, even as she checked to see what her son was up to. Pip seemed happy with his collection of old toys, but his eyes lit up as Lord Stockwick entered the room.

  “Forgive my intrusion, but might I join you? My valet is having a devilishly hard time keeping my fire going in my chamber.”

  “Of course, you can,” she promised, rushing to smooth out her skirts. “Please come in and warm yourself by the fire.”

  He shut the door behind him and rushed to the fireside, holding his hands to the flames. “Another cheerful, warm day at The Vynes,” he complained sarcastically.

  “Yes, it is miserable weather we are having.” Ruby smiled. “I had hoped to take Pip out, but I’m afraid we’d get lost or buried up to our necks in a drift before we’d gone twenty steps into the gardens.”

  Stockwick glanced her way and smiled, too. “You’d be all right if you kept to the known paths.”

  She laughed. “I haven’t any idea where they might be, or even go under all that snow.”