"I must say that I'm truly impressed with the work you and Tom have put into diversifying your landholdings," enthused Charles Blake as he made himself comfortable on the red velvet sofa.
Lady Mary Talbot bore a smile like the cat who not only ate the canary, but made the canary thank her for the privilege of being devoured. "Well, I seem to recall a certain gentleman coming to the rescue when our entire pig investment was in danger of being wiped out, so I consider this to be our success," she demurred politely.
Offering a devilish grin and a waggle of his eyebrows, Charles suggested, "I guess you could say I saved your bacon?" He received a trademark roll of Mary's eyes in response. "Well, I think I'm hilarious," he chuckled to himself as he lifted his teacup to indicate that he was in need of a refill. "Thank you, Barrow."
Barrow bowed slightly at the waist and gave a softly murmured, "sir" in reply.
Lady Mary looked up and offered her butler a warm smile. "Yes, thank you, Barrow. How are preparations coming along for our visitors?" she inquired even though she was quite confident that Thomas had the situation well in hand.
"The day maids finished airing out the guest bedrooms this morning and Mrs. Patmore has—if the smells coming from the kitchen are any indication—a truly fine meal planned for this evening," Barrow explained as he kept his face utterly inscrutable, his posture impossibly erect, and his chest seemingly puffed out with pride. It was only the slight tremor in his voice that gave him away.
Three months after offering the role of butler to him, Mary knew Thomas's mannerisms well enough to recognize that this outward show of confidence belied the man's anxiety that he would be found wanting by Upstairs and Downstairs alike. "Wonderful!" exclaimed Lady Mary warmly as she turned back to Charles to continue their conversation. "Now, please remind me Charles. Who will be joining us for the weekend?" she inquired as much for her own benefit as for Barrow's, who would undoubtedly have his hands full coordinating an influx of guests as well as servants.
Pulling a small notebook out of an inside pocket of his charcoal grey suit jacket, Charles reviewed his notes, "Let's see. Lord and Lady Shrewsbury will be coming in from Lancashire—they're wishing to know more about investing in both agriculture and livestock. And Sir Martin Wallace will be heading up from, uh, Cotswold. He's been trying to decide whether or not to sell off his property in Bristol. Oh, but I'm afraid Tony—" Mary stiffened imperceptibly at the name "—had to send his regrets."
"Oh?" asked Mary as she endeavored to keep her face as neutral as possible.
Charles shrugged, "I suppose he thinks things might be awkward between you and Mabel what with him trying to court you."
"Yes, I suppose that might be the case." She offered Charles a breezy smile, which rapidly changed into a grimace only barely concealed behind the teacup that she quickly brought to her lips for camouflage.
"At any rate," continued Charles, "Tony suggested that we extend an invitation to the, ah, Duke of Crowbor— Barrow, are you quite alright?" The sound of china rattling just behind his left shoulder interrupted him mid-sentence.
"Yes, sir. My apologies, sir," replied Barrow, his face blank and unreadable.
While Charles' back was turned to look over his shoulder, Mary cast upon Thomas her own quizzical gaze. But once Charles had straightened around again, she immediately smiled and explained, "I'm afraid Barrow is being a bit overprotective of me, Charles. Years ago, the Duke came for a visit with the intention of courting— Well, let's just say it wasn't me he was interested in courting."
Charles had a knowing smile upon his face, for the Duke's fortune hunting had become notorious in several circles. "Ah, did he find your bank account to be less attractive once it was clear the entail couldn't be broken?" he asked. "Well, apparently, he and Tony play polo together and have been discussing finances as of late. But, if you would prefer that he didn't come…"
"Oh no, I wouldn't dream of it," Mary said with a laugh. "It was years ago; goodness, I've been twice married and have my second child on the way. Believe me, I have not been spending the past fourteen years pining away for the Duke."
"Well, I'm glad to hear it."
"Besides," Mary continued as her eyes flickered over to Barrow, "last I heard, he was married to one of the Vanderbilts and was quite busy producing a small army of little Vanderbilts."
Charles' face broke out in a grin, "Yes, I hear that number four is currently baking."
Glancing furtively at Barrow—who despite standing as straight and tall as ever, seemed at the same time to be almost wilting—Mary queried, "Should we have Dr. Clarkson on call just in case?"
Shaking his head, Charles explained, "No, I don't believe she's quite that far gone. Besides, Tony tells me that the Duke will likely leave her at home. Apparently, she's not very fond of traveling outside of metropolitan London. According to Tony, the two of them almost never travel together."
"Ah, not one for the country, is she?" asked Mary with an arched eyebrow. She sniffed slightly with indignation towards this woman whom she had never met. Typical Londoner snobbery, she thought to herself. The city might have its diversions, but Mary would always love the bucolic beauty of the Yorkshire countryside. She groaned slightly as the baby shifted inside of her, pushing a tiny fist—or was it a foot?—into her kidney and another tiny foot—or was it a fist?—into her bladder.
"Everything alright?" inquired Charles, who looked slightly worried that Mary would start birthing right there on the couch. He once aided with the birthing of a litter of piglets but somehow doubted that Mary would appreciate the comparison.
Offering a weary smile, Mary waved off his concern as she awkwardly stood up, "Yes, quite alright. But I'm afraid that she's had quite enough with meetings for today."
Standing as well, as etiquette dictated, Charles teased, "Oh, is it a she? I was under the impression that these things tended to be a bit of a surprise."
Her smile now turning quite smug, Mary demurred, "My children are quite well behaved, Mr. Blake. I told this one that she ought to be a girl, and I'm quite confident that she'll do just as she is told. And if not…"
"Well, I suppose you'll have to forbid him from going to the pub with his friends for at least the first year," joked Charles. "Was there anything else you would like to know?"
Mary laughed as she clasped her hands over her belly. "No, I believe we have everything we need. Don't we, Barrow? Barrow?"
Seeming to shake himself out of a dream, Thomas replied, "Yes, m'lady. Everything that we need."
