The next morning was an early start for one particular footman, but it was not duty which called but his own, rather more personal mission. He trotted through the servants hall and cut a chunk of bread from a loaf left on the table the night before, marvelling at how eerily quiet it was so early in the morning – no Wilf and his drinking songs, no Fred cartwheeling through the hallway and no maids bustling and gossiping.
There was, however, one maid who was already up with the sculleries to begin soaking some of the laundry which seemed to be accumulating quickly with little attention being given to it. Hettie certainly wasn't up by choice, far from it, but as one of the newest maids with laundry firmly in her job description she drew the short straw on the early shift. Mrs Watson had given her strict instructions to ask her any questions she may have rather than bothering Mrs Corey, who wasn't to be disturbed until at least half past eight every morning from now on, and certainly not by any old laundry maid. But, typically, Hettie did have a question for Mrs Watson as the silly sour bitch hadn't told her where the keys were kept so she could get in there. With a sly smile Hettie noted the earliness of the hour, even darling Molly wouldn't be stirring just yet, so why not wake her up?
As for Joe James, he had a similar idea but certainly not for the same reasons. There was a certain lady he hadn't had chance to talk to since his return from India, but this was to be expected considering the previous day's goings on. Joe had made himself rather scarce where Molly was concerned for the past couple of days, she had been run off her feet much of the time anyway so it hadn't been difficult, but when he did catch glimpse of her she looked particularly harassed so thought it best not to approach her for fear of having his head bitten right off.
He had thought about her so much while he was away, every day in fact, and during his free time – of which there was much of it – he had taken to writing poetry about her after discovering an exotic poetry book, translated into English, at a market in Delhi. Some of the poems in the book were a little risqué, he noted, but that far from put him off, the opposite in fact. They weren't rude but the exploration of feminine beauty, although maybe a little more 'in-depth' than more sensitive souls might have enjoyed, but still Joe found a certain connection with the poetry which helped him understand and express his confused feelings towards Mrs Watson.
He and Fred had spoken very little while abroad, well socially anyway, except when Fred discovered the poetry book under Joe's bed, along with his notebook. He had laughed out loud on reading Joe's attempts at copying the slightly erotic sentiments of some of the Indian poetry but Joe had taken no notice. He didn't care for Fred's frankly immature attitude and wondered if his one-time friend and colleague would ever experience real love; a love so strong he would do anything for her, even sacrifice his own happiness for hers. Fred and Will had joked he was being 'pretentious', although they hadn't actually used what Joe considered to be such a complex word for them and had simply said he had become 'up himself' since his declared love.
Until now Joe had been able to push any thoughts about Lord Montgomery Hamilton-Hussey right to the back of his mind, surely his affair with Molly would have ended by now, they must hardly be able to see each other and besides aristos like him were bound to have other women in other houses. But Lord Hamilton-Hussey's untimely arrival had got Joe thinking again; wondering if it was indeed really over with Molly. He hadn't told a soul about his encounter with her in the Orangery not long after her arrival, how she had kissed him thinking he was Monty and thus inadvertently revealing her little secret. Joe had meant what he said, about helping her if she needed it, he wanted them to remain friends as that would at least allow him to enjoy her company, which was far more entertaining and grown-up than spending drinking evenings with bloody Fred and Will.
Quietly, Joe tip-toed through the female quarters feeling remarkably out of place. If Mrs Corey caught him he would be in more trouble than he cared to imagine, but he had heard that she was under strict instructions from Mr Jarvis and Molly to stay in bed and not get out of it until a cup of tea had been brought to her in the form of permission. He knew Molly's room was towards the end of the corridor, but as he approached he heard her door handle begin to turn and the door creak open. His heart leapt into his mouth and his breath caught in his throat, his brain screaming at him to bottle it and run, but he compromised by dashing around the corner and backing up against the wall. He didn't know what had possessed him to visit her now, perhaps he felt he would be laughed at if Fred caught him talking to her, but as she was obviously up now anyway it would take just a few steps and they would be eye to eye.
Joe peered around the corner, his body frozen to the spot, but what met his eye made his blood run so cold he could feel a shiver run up his spine. A man had appeared from Molly's room and was standing in the doorway, Joe could only see his back half but from the way he was holding his frame he could tell who it was, it was unmistakable. He appeared to be only half dressed, by an aristocrat's standards anyway, but he was at least wearing his trousers even if his shirt was untucked scruffily about the waist and his braces were hanging down by his thighs. The Lord was talking but it was muffled and Joe couldn't hear a word of it, but the instantly recognisable Scottish lilt which responded was a little more clear so he could make out a few words, but nothing much. Joe gulped hard when he watched in horror as a pair of bare, slender arms slid themselves over Lord Montgomery's shoulders and pulled him back into the room slightly, their muffled talking ceasing as more carnal matters interrupted their flow of conversation.
In the mixed flow of Joe's turmoiled thoughts he remembered one of the poems he had written which was a reflection on how he pictured Molly to be, under all of those layers. For a moment he was too upset to move, here was a rich cad taking advantage of a woman who had not so many months ago lost her husband! If it wasn't for circumstances Joe felt he would certainly have put Lord Loverboy in his place, but as the tears of jealousy began to well up in his eyes he couldn't help but move to try to get a better view, just to confirm it was indeed Molly, of course.
Moments later, his suspicions were confirmed when his teary gaze fell upon a slightly obscured view of Molly Watson as she and Lord Montague broke apart their risky, lingering kiss in the doorway, completely oblivious to their intruder. Strangely Joe felt his stomach churn in an odd feeling of delight as he took in every detail of Molly he could see, from her loosely laced white corset down to her first layer of petticoats, her thick brown hair draped over her shoulders. It excited him to think that nobody except Lord Montague was meant to see her in such a state of undress, if only that damn petticoat hadn't been there, but it didn't take him much thought to consider that it certainly hadn't been about her person until very recently. Joe's mind began to turn from his initial interest to self-pity and hurt, maybe Fred was right she was never going to be interested in him no matter how much he tried to make himself as sophisticated as his competition. The footman turned to leave in despondency, but nearly shouted out in shock to see a maid grinning up at him, her eyebrows raised questioningly.
"'ere what are you up to?" Hettie asked a little too loudly, lurching forward to nose around the corner, but Joe grabbed her arm and pulled her back before she could catch a glimpse down the corridor. "Get off me, will you!"
"Shut up!" Joe hissed, his eyes wide in terror. "What the hell d'you think you're doing!"
"I'm allowed to walk down the corridor, Joe, it's hardly a crime!" Hettie replied, now in a firm whisper. "C'mon, let me look, I don't like secrets!"
That's just her trouble, Joe thought maliciously, but he had no choice but to let her look for fear of creating even more noise and giving his game away. He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth as Hettie leaned past him and exhaled the faintest whiff of a snigger before pulling back and leaning against the wall with her hand firmly over her mouth as she giggled silently.
"Wonder where he's just been, dirty posh sod!" She whispered through her laughter, hardly noticing the stern expression on Joe's face. His brow furrowed in confusion and he looked back to see Lord Montague hurrying down the corridor, but aware of his own conspicuousness he glanced over his shoulder. Joe lunged backwards as soon as he saw Monty's head turning and he could feel the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead as the panic rose in his chest. Thank God Hettie didn't see where Hamilton-Hussey had just come from, but had he just made the mistake of being spotted?
"You know, don't you?" Hettie asked, her eyes narrowing and her lips pursing in piqued interest. "C'mon, tell me, tell me!"
Joe shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. This girl was so bloody immature, he thought with a sniff, no doubt she would end up seeing more than she should of Fred Matkin at some point soon. "How would I know? I don't care for gossip unlike you maids." He lied unconvincingly, avoiding all contact with Hettie's suspicious eyes.
"You must know, you've been spying. Tell me Joseph, pretty please?" Hettie smiled flirtatiously, brushing up against him and twirling a lock of hair around her finger. With a wink she ran her finger down his chest and raked her eyes over him, but Joe felt sick rather than anything else and pulled away from her.
"N…no, I don't know, I said….."
Hettie's body language suddenly changed and she placed her hands on her hips, cocking her head to one side as her sweet smile turned sour. "I thought as bloody much!" She snorted bitterly. "It was her wasn't it, Mrs sweet-as-pie Watson, I know because Fred's told me all about you and your obsession with her, you're protecting her aren't you!"
"What do you care!" Joe retorted, instantly regretting not denying it further, but he was one step ahead of her and before she could dash off to tell anyone who would listen he cornered her and glared at her intimidatingly. "Don't you dare tell a soul, you're new here, people won't thank you for gossiping about Mrs Watson, she's got a good reputation and nobody will believe you anyway."
"Me? Tell anyone?" Hettie feigned offence, placing her hand on her chest and fluttering her eyelids. "Why would I do such a terrible thing? Don't you worry your little head, Joseph James, your – and Mrs Watson's – secrets are safe as houses with me , I'm not one for gossip." She smiled softly again, running a finger down his cheek, but Joe could see a nasty glint in her eye which made him feel uncomfortable. "But she had better be careful." Hettie whispered almost threateningly. "She's probably got evidence in her room, and if that fell into the wrong hands, well…."
"What d'you mean, evidence?" Joe asked, puzzled. His patience with Hettie was wearing so thin and was so stretched if she pushed him much further it would snap in two.
Hettie smirked, glancing in the direction of Molly's now firmly shut door. "Oh, you know, men woo women don't they? Buy them things? When they want something in return, of course, and it seems our Lord in question most certainly does, every night he's here I'll wager. He's probably brought her flowers and the like, expensive presents, remind her how rich he is, and she'll have no way of explaining how she got them, especially if they were to accidentally find their way to right under Mr Jarvis' nose."
"Don't you even think of it!" Joe exploded, but Hettie pushed past him, the broadest smile on her face since she arrived at Taplows. "What's in it for you!"
"Hmm." Hettie spun round and frowned in mock thought, tapping her lips with her finger, but then her eyes brightened in fake realisation. "Oh, you mean, would I….? Joseph James, I am ashamed of you! I would never….land a fellow woman in trouble!"
The look on Joe's face made Hettie want to laugh out loud. How she was desperate to get her own back on her for being such a sour cow to her, it would be the biggest laugh she'd had since turning up at this dump of a place, she could do with some fun for a change.
"W…where are you going now?" Joe asked in alarm as she headed towards Molly's room.
"I need to ask her were the keys are to the laundry." Hettie replied smugly, but the sly grin on her face fell rapidly away when Joe announced, with a hint of victory in his voice, "Oh I know where they're kept, why didn't you just ask? I'll take you to them myself." He was damned if he was going to let the horrendous Henrietta Willis get a good look inside Mrs Watson's room.
Hettie stopped dead with her back to the footman and fumed silently for a moment, but she forced a smile back onto her face turned, her hands clasped together in mock enthusiasm. "Ooh goody, do take me to it." She snorted sarcastically, but Joe smiled as warmly as he could and indicated for the maid to follow him safely away from any mischief she may wish to cause – for now, anyway.
An hour or so later after having survived first the Earl's verbal ear-bashing over the sloppy state of the household and then his wife's subsequent floods of tears over the rather harsh dressing down the Earl had directed at her in particular, the butler decided that now was the right time to deliver the last of his packages from India.
So picking up her ladyship's breakfast tray much to the amusement of the footmen he made his way up the grand staircase and along to the east wing, he paused and knocked politely outside Lady Rebecca's room waiting for her permission to enter. As who knows what she might doing, not that he had any worries about interrupting any of her old nocturnal habits but she might be feeding young lord Hugo or dressing or doing any number of those idle female flippancies that seemed to keep them amused but that he as a man was far happier not knowing about! It also hadn't escaped his memory that this afternoon would be an especially trying experience for her ladyship, little Archie's funeral, but who knows perhaps his little gift might be able to take her mind off the dreaded event, even a few minutes distraction would be enough.
Suddenly the door was opened by a harassed looking Lizzie who on spotting the butler gave him a polite smile and opened the door wide to usher him inside before leaving herself a large pile of laundry clutched in her arms.
"Lady Rebecca?" Jarvis called out discretely as he could catch no sight of the lady in question.
"Over here Mr Jarvis!" Rebecca's melodic voice rang out, although to Jarvis's trained ear it did sound some what fatigued and sadder than he remembered. Following her voice he walked across the room and finally spotted her ladyship relaxing on a chaise by the large windows her son cradled in her arms as he continued to grisle.
"He's determined to be trying today, nothing we do will appease him!" Rebecca muttered more to herself than to the awkward looking servant standing a respectful distance away.
"Nether the less he's a very handsome little chap My Lady." Jarvis replied, looking at the child properly for the first time and noting that his wife had indeed been right in her assessment, he just hoped that the child managed to grow into that Adams nose sooner rather than later.
"Would you take him for a minute." Rebecca asked. "I could really do with drinking that whilst it's hot and he just screams his head off if he is put down."
"Of course My Lady." Jarvis replied automatically as if she had merely asked him to open the window rather than hold a screaming infant so he laid the small package down on the table and without even the barest hint of panic accepted the child making sure to support the head and hold him securely and close but not too tight just as his mother had repeatedly drilled into him. However despite his substantive theoretical knowledge this was the first time he had ever actually held a small child, hell any child, and he was surprised at how heavy and solid he was despite being so tiny.
However he wasn't the only one scrutinising the situation as the child seemed to instinctively realise the change of hands and stopped grisling to open his eyes long enough to glare up at the Butler, and even though at such a stage Jarvis knew he shouldn't be able to make out much more than a few inches in front of his face he could have sworn the child looked him right in the eye and was working him out.
"How very strange..." Rebecca muttered.
"What is?" Jarvis asked forgetting to add the usual Milady on the end in his haste.
"That is the first time he has stopped all morning, and Andrew is the only one who has been able to get him to go down without a fuss, you two must have a gift or something… Flora is going to be a very lucky mother having you on hand to help her when things get too difficult!" Rebecca added and for a moment Jarvis could have sworn he detected a hint of jealousy in her tone.
"I consider myself the lucky one Milady." Jarvis replied politely but unable to keep the defensive tone completely from his voice as he spoke about his wife.
"I'm sure you do Mr Jarvis." She added softly but without even a hint of her feelings as after her little outburst it was if an iron gate had come crashing down on her emotions placing them once more under lock and key. "Was there anything else?" She added distantly.
"Yes I managed to find a copy of that book you asked me to find."
"I did what book?" Rebecca began distractedly, picking up the parcel and unwrapping it delicately before suddenly pausing having not even turned the first page.
"Oh yes…." She began and Jarvis could barely suppress the sigh of relief as the present had the desired effect and her eyes lit up properly for the first time in ages.
"This is it Mr Jarvis, tell me did you get the chance to read it?" She asked innocently enough but Jarvis could have sworn there was some joke he hadn't been made a party too as there was something about her mouth that suggested the desire to laugh.
"No Milady it was your book and I would never presume…"
"Oh but it's not for me, it's for your lady wife, a belated birthday gift of sorts." Rebecca retorted once more carefully wrapping the book in the paper and knotting the ribbon tightly around it.
"Would you be so kind as to pass it along for me, but could you do me a favour and make it an anonymous present…Say for example you picked it up in a Bazaar and after thumbing through it thought it was something she might enjoy, much like that lovely picture book you brought her back from Rome wasn't it?"
"Are you sure Milday? It is your gift…."
"I am positive Mr Jarvis, if it comes from me then Flora will get all embarrassed because she didn't get me a birthday gift and you wouldn't want her getting upset now would you?" Rebecca asked angelically fluttering those long lashes in a way that would make most men swoon at her feet.
"Well if you're adamant Lady Rebecca."
"I am Mr Jarvis!" She added determinedly handing the butler the book and watching as he expertly slid it into his pocket without even waking the babe in his arms before heading back towards the door.
"Oh Mr Jarvis you've forgotten something, or to the point forgotten to leave something?" Rebecca called out mischievously from the chaise standing up slowly and closing the distance between them before holding out her arms for her now sleeping son, who didn't even stir as his mother took him back and placed him in his bassinette.
"Don't worry you'll have one of your own soon enough….Oh and make sure you tell Flora to pay special attention to the etching on page thirty eight I think it is, well it is in my copy, I think it's something she might find enlightening, a truly magnificent feat of human ingenuity!"
"I will make a point of it Milady!" Jarvis replied embarrassed, before bowing politely and leaving the room, and so missing the look of wicked delight that emerged on her face the moment he had left and her muttered comment of 'I truly hope you do Mr Jarvis'.
A few hours later and after a hard morning's work Molly Watson returned to her room to restyle her hair, or at least that was her excuse. It was such a shame to let the beautiful flowers Monty had brought her just sit in her room without anyone appreciating them so she felt she owed it to them to nip back occasionally for a quick admire and to breathe in their scent before going back to her many chores. Now that Flora had scaled down on her duties quite dramatically since yesterday she found herself far more in demand, and although she knew she would quite enjoy practically running the household at first, apart from the admin work which she felt she should leave to Flora to make her own life easier, she already felt exhausted and wondered how on earth Flora had been able up to now to carry on as she had been doing. She was probably just used to it, Molly thought with a frown as she unlocked her door and entered, but even still she wondered whether Flora had some secret to keeping her own head when all around were losing theirs.
Molly was annoyed with herself for not being able to pay more attention to her poor brother, who kept moping around the servants quarters and barking at any unfortunate member of staff who came within yards of him. She loved him dearly but she really wished he wouldn't pick on William Forest the way he did, if Rebecca saw him behaving like that she would have a word or two to say, but she concluded that the dear lady would have other things on her mind today of all days. With a sigh Molly walked over to the window where the large bunch of flowers sat proudly in a vase on her dresser. She sniffed their delicate petals, casting her eye out of the window and up at the clear blue summer sky, the few wisps of fluffy white cloud moving slowly westwards giving the only visible indication that the world was turning as it should.
Molly closed her eyes and muttered a small prayer under her breath. She wasn't normally a very religious woman, her father had managed to put her off much active church-going for life, but that didn't mean she didn't believe and somehow this sort of moment called for a word or two in God' spiritual ear. She could see in her mind's eye Lady Rebecca grieving over Master Archie's tiny coffin, her father stood rigid and stern next to her, his face as stony and uncompromising as his soul.
The baby would be being buried in the Sturges Bourne vault right about now, in an extremely private ceremony attended by Rebecca, Lord Farquarson and Monty, with only Lady Caroline representing the Earl's family, and Molly could see in Andrew's eyes how devastated he was for once again not being able to be there for the woman he loved. Of course he understood why, he hadn't expected to be there, but it didn't hurt any less. Molly was grateful to Mr Jarvis for letting her brother return to his room for the duration of the half an hour ceremony to 'contemplate his thoughts', as the butler had put it. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all, Molly had mused to herself at the time, he didn't show outward compassion all that much but when he did it was obviously genuine, maybe she was starting to see what Flora saw in him.
Molly stared down at the flowers again and smiled softly. She would make sure Andrew was able to see Archie's grave in a day or two, where they could say their own goodbyes, but her mind drifted to the blissful night she had spent with Monty. She felt guilty thinking about it under the current tragic circumstances, but it was the first time she had been able to have pure, indulgent fun in months. The nearest she had come to letting her hair down recently was while the men were in India. She and Flora had decided on the spur of the moment to dash off, mid-blanket darning, into Tappleton to buy what Mr Jarvis always called 'needless female fripperies' and have two cups of tea and a scone, and although she had had fun on her 'girlie' afternoon out with her friend it hardly compared to the excitement Monty brought to her life just by being under the same roof as her.
He was her little secret, nobody – apart from Joseph, which was unfortunate – knew about him and she was very happy to keep it that way. She always worried for Andrew, she felt too many people knew about him and Lady Rebecca and one day the risk they took would catch up with them, but on the other hand her own secret was far more dangerous. Monty was a married man with hopes of Parliament and she had a husband still alive and relatively well (as far as she knew) in their marital home in Glasgow, certainly not six feet under like everyone at Taplows believed.
Suddenly she was jolted out of her thoughts as her door swung open with a creak, and she spun around in shock nearly knocking the vase off the table. Molly let out a sharp sigh when she saw who it was, backing up against the table in a feeble attempt to lessen the conspicuousness of the bright yellow roses behind her.
"Can I help you, Miss Willis?" She demanded in a rather strained voice as her cheeks flushed crimson. "Can't you wait a moment, I'll be back in Mrs Corey's office in a minute…"
Hettie smiled sweetly, watching her carefully as she leant back, placing her hands behind her on the table so her elbows obscured the flowers further. Molly hadn't even considered that perhaps if she wasn't making such a futile effort to hide an innocent-looking bunch of roses and lilies Hettie would have thought nothing of them, but the inquisitive eyebrow the maid cocked as she eyed a rogue snowberry peeping over the under-housekeeper's shoulder caused Molly to panic further.
"It's Lord Hugo," Hettie began quite innocently, and for a moment Molly forgot the significance of her flowers and her eyes widened in worry, but the maid carried on before she could ask the obvious question. "He won't stop crying, he probably needs changing or something."
Molly's rigid posture relaxed in relief, her concerned expression changing quickly to one of mild annoyance. "You should find Lizzie McDuff for that, she's acting nanny for now, I've got far too much to do." But then her eyes trailed towards the bed, where she noted with horror that she had left out a beautifully hand-decorated trinket box with its lid open, a Mother of Pearl necklace lying neatly inside it. Hettie followed her gaze and a smile flittered across her lips as Molly coughed nervously and scooped up the items.
"I can't find her, Grace said she may have gone to the vault, she thought Lady Rebecca may need her." Hettie replied with a hint of satisfaction in her voice, her inner most thoughts revolving around the idea that if those expensive pearls went missing, who on earth could Mrs Watson complain to without arousing suspicion even if she had a suspect in mind?
"Well do I look like the mothering type to you!" Molly fumed, marching towards Hettie so the girl was forced to retreat towards the door. Hettie was actually rather taken aback by how angry Mrs Watson seemed, even if Hettie had seen some things she shouldn't Molly appeared to be visibly shaking. "I don't know what to do with a baby any more than any other childless woman, you might as well ask a man! Actually on second thoughts never ask a man….what are you gawping at girl, you shouldn't even be in my room, go on shoo, I'll come along and see to Lord Hugo in a moment."
Yes because you're very good at giving Lords a good 'seeing to', Hettie thought in ecstasy as she took another long stare at the trinket box in Molly's grasp, but Molly's expression softened and she smiled.
"Mrs Corey, I'm just on my way now." She said brightly, Hettie turning around to see Flora standing behind her just beyond the door in the corridor.
"I just heard shouting." Flora said rather flatly, her hands rubbing her lower back.
She looked mildly puzzled but Hettie simply smiled in a sickly sweet manner at her as Molly felt her skin begin to prickle. Molly opened her mouth to speak, to say anything at all to stall Hettie from possibly saying something inappropriate, but the young maid was too quick and she was left floundering.
"Oh, Mrs Corey, I was about to come to look for you, Mrs Watson says I'm strictly not to bother you with anything at all but Lord Hugo is crying and Lizzie's not around, and Mrs Watson says she doesn't know what to do with a baby, never having had any herself." Hettie exclaimed naively, feigning a look of innocent worry, but Flora didn't seem quite so sure of this and looked at Molly questioningly.
"Well I did say that I would be along in a moment, Mrs Corey, there's no need for Miss Willis here to bother you." Molly countered in her defence, still cradling the trinket box. How could the little scheming madam blatantly exaggerate the instruction she had given her then go on to make a point of repeating back a line obviously made in haste in front of Mrs Corey – a pregnant Mrs Corey – making Molly feel small and inadequate?
"Yes well His Lordship is having a mid-morning nap, Mrs Watson, and he is already complaining about Lord Hugo's lung capacity so one of you best get up there quickly." Flora said a little sharply, without giving any indication whether she had registered Hettie's unhelpful comment about her being kept in the dark on matters involving the running of her own household. She was staring quite obviously at the vase of flowers, so hard in fact that it was impossible for Molly not to notice as a strangely uneasy silence descended in the room. Hettie suppressed a gleeful smile and very slowly moved out of the door, waiting for her cue to make mischief. She wanted the satisfaction of knowing that when Mrs Corey – or indeed Mr Jarvis – finally realised who exactly the poor respectable widow Molly Watson was bedding, she could claim the credit for nudging their thoughts firmly in the right direction.
"They're beautiful." Flora stated, indicating to the flowers as a half-hearted smile flittered across her lips.
"Yes, they are." Molly replied nervously, desperately trying to think up a reason for her possession of them. "I, er, got them from….."
"Mrs Watson must have a secret admirer, don't you think so, Mrs Corey?" Hettie interrupted angelically, earning her a panicky glare from Molly. What the hell is she up to now, Molly thought in horror, there's no way she could know about Monty…..
"A secret admirer?" Flora asked a little dryly, raising her eyebrows. "Things don't tend to be 'secret' around here long if that is the case!"
"No, they're from…er…Andrew, he can be a very thoughtful brother from time-to-time, Hettie haven't you got duties to attend to? The laundry baskets won't empty themselves." Molly said in a stern but oddly stressed tone, coughing as her neck flushed a patchy, red rash.
"Are you alright, Mrs Watson?" Flora asked, her expression softening in concern as she stepped into the room and noticed the beautiful box in Molly's grasp. "If you wish I can go and see Lord Hugo, obviously it will take a bit of getting used to, the workload around here I mean, not the baby! Although I appreciate if you're not sure what to do, I mean when baby Corey arrives I will find I'm a little unsure myself, although I'm hoping Emily will……"
"No, I can do it, it's fine." Molly interjected firmly, throwing Flora off her verbal stride and causing her to recoil slightly in surprise at the flat rejection of help from her deputy. "Babies can't be that difficult, women have been having them since Eve, Mrs Corey, I'm sure I can work out one end of a child from the other!"
Hettie shot Flora a knowing 'told you she's taking over' glance, the real reason behind Molly's defensiveness completely going over her and Flora's heads, but Hettie realised she had to bring the conversation back round to the main matter of her attention, and quickly.
"Maybe you're having a reaction to the flowers, Mrs Watson." Hettie said in a helpful tone. "When I see Mr Adams I'll be sure to mention it, I've seen that sort of rash before….."
"No, don't!" Molly yelled desperately as Flora stared at her. "I mean….well….it's not an allergic reaction to the flowers I'm sure, no need to bother Mr Adams, it's…I'm just a bit hot."
"But Mr Adams does seem very gentlemanly." Hettie suddenly piped up rather clumsily. "And may I say, Mrs Watson, that the trinket box you have there is beautiful, it must have cost him a pretty penny in India."
"It's actually from Africa." Molly said quickly, but then instantly realised her sudden mistake. That damn girl had lulled her into a false sense of security with her compliment, how could she have fallen for it so easily? Everyone knew that Monty had only recently returned from Africa, maybe she could quickly lie that Andrew had picked it up on the way home…..
"I thought you said Mr Adams had left all your presents on the boat." Flora wondered, her face clouding with a shroud of suspicion. Molly gaped for a moment, glancing from Hettie's satisfied smile to Flora's narrowed eyes.
"He did…most of them….he found this one in his trunk." She stammered unconvincingly.
"So it's not from your secret admirer then? I'm surprised he could afford such an item on an under-butler's wage." Hettie asked keeping all smugness from her tone, but she knew she was taking a big risk by taking on Mrs Watson right in front of the housekeeper.
"I do not have a secret admirer, Miss Willis!" Molly fumed, waving her out of the door furiously. "And if I did it would be of no concern of yours, now kindly go and see Lord Hugo, I will be along momentarily! And if you see Mr Jarvis on your way tell him I will see him promptly at 11!"
Hettie nodded, leaving hurriedly, smug in the knowledge that she seemed to have begun sewing the seeds of doubt in Mrs Corey's mind already, if her expression was anything to go by, but she knew she still had a long way to go yet and she was going to have an awful lot of fun getting there.
"You have a meeting with Mr Jarvis at 11?" Flora asked Molly quite casually as she glanced around the room, as if looking for something, or at the very least taking in her surroundings and noting them carefully.
"Yes, just a business meeting." Molly smiled, placing the box by the vase of flowers and relieved that little madam had finally taken her poison elsewhere.
"Well I should think it would be business." Flora replied quite sharply, Molly failing to detect any teasing hint to her tone but hardly thinking much of it. "I mean what else would you wish to talk about – or not talk about – as the case may be?"
Molly untied her hair and turned away from Flora so she could brush it while looking in the mirror, "Indeed, my dear, but one thing I'll credit your husband with is that he certainly knows his own mind and the efficiency at which he gets on with the task in hand is most agreeable. Sometimes I find him so efficient that he's done it even before I've noticed he's started!" She sighed, completely missing Flora's subtle point as the housekeeper's expression darkened further. If Molly Watson was playing her for some kind of fool then she would regret it, especially with those kind of lewd comments.
"Can I sit in on your meeting?" Flora asked, keeping the malice out of her voice. "I mean, it's only a business meeting after all…."
"I…I don't know, it would be up to your husband." Molly replied truthfully as she tied up her hair and replaced her cap with the skill of a practiced hand. "But you're meant to be resting, Flora, it may be best if you leave it to us for now."
Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you, getting your hands on my husband and my job, killing two large birds with one stone! Flora thought, her jaw setting in bottled fury as she hobbled back towards the door, but she decided it best not to say any more, she didn't wish Molly to know she suspected anything, not yet, what if she was just overreacting? That's what Molly would probably think, she would tell Walter and Flora would find herself even more out in the cold as they continued their little 'arrangement', for want of a better, more appropriate word.
"Now, Flora dear, you go and have a sit down while I see to Lord Hugo." Molly smiled, ushering the housekeeper out of the room. "You just leave everything – including Walter – to me."
However despite his best intentions the Butler was unable find his lady wife until much later in the day and when finally he caught sight of her he was somewhat perturbed to find her ensconced in her sitting room with his mother fussing over her like some demented queen bee.
"No Flora dear promise me you'll stay off your feet this afternoon, Molly can deal with the grocer and I'll go fetch you a lovely glass of milk and slice of Felix's lemon cake…"
"I don't suppose you could make that two slices?" Walter called out from the doorway smiling as the two women glanced up in surprise Flora trying to get up from her seat and welcome him in but Emily pushed her back down before striding over to the door.
"You don't need feeding up anymore!" Emily hissed pushing past him and into the hallway and so missing the furious expression on her son's face as he self-consciously tugged on his waistcoat before wandering across to his wife.
"Can you believe her?" He exclaimed leaning down to place a tender kiss on Flora's forehead. "What on earth can she mean, perhaps we need to get Dr Evans to check her eyesight the next time he visits…"
"Walter!" Flora teased. "She has a point you know how on earth are you going to compete in the games this year with a paunch like that?" She added playfully poking his stomach.
"Oh and you really think you are in a position to say anything!" Walter retorted running his hand over her large belly.
"Oi Mister I have an excuse and it's not like I have to do anything but sit on the sidelines and cheer you on! You on the other hand have a certain standard to uphold we don't want those winning medals to go to any other house now do we." She added continuing to run her fingers teasingly over his stomach as he did his best to suck it in. "Don't think I hadn't noticed since you've been back from India that you weren't the sprightly thing you were before you went out!"
"It's hardly my fault!" Walter snapped grabbing her tickling fingers and raising them to his lips, kissing each one reverently. "It's not like I've had the same level of exercise that I was used to, and what else was I supposed to do whilst I was away its not like I could sample any other local delicacy without you slapping me with a divorce!"
"I don't know you could have taken up belly dancing with a figure like that!" Flora added cheekily pulling her hands free from his and holding up a warning finger as her glowering husband leant down intending to pull her into his arms and show her then and there that he wasn't the kind of man that would take up belly dancing.
"Well if you're going to be like that then I might decide you don't deserve that last present…" Walter trailed off reaching into his pocket and pulling out a certain neatly wrapped package a delicate yellow rose tucked under the red ribbon.
"More presents?" Flora giggled before her face froze slightly a flicker of something flittering across her normally serene face as she caught sight of the familiar looking flower, a look that if her husband had caught it might have given him cause for concern over her next question. "It must have taken you most of your free time buying all these presents I mean mine alone must have taken hours of looking did you get the chance to bring any other's back for anyone else?"
"Oh a few, nothing much just little trinkets, there was this lovely little box but that's not important go on open it…This is your last one mind so don't go getting excited its nothing much just a book I picked up in a local bizarre and thought you might enjoy it apparently the etchings are especially good!" He added handing it over to the unusually quiet and pensive Flora.
"Apparently?" Flora queried intrigued as she teased open the paper and ran her fingers across the strange foreign letters.
"It was a recommendation from a friend. I had completely forgotten all about it and then this morning I found it in the bottom of my trunk so you might as well have it now!" He added walking over to the mantelpiece and regulating the mantle clock to match his pocket watch and so missing the look of shock followed by amusement on his wife's face.
"So you didn't even look through it?" She asked in an almost hurt tone of voice.
"Oh well I scanned it of course!" Walter hurriedly retorted turning round and smiling sheepish at his wife.
"Really so which was your favourite picture?"
"Oh well it's a contest between page 78 and 38." He expounded confidently watching as his amused wife innocently flicked between the two pages.
"Oh yes I see what you mean!" She replied giggling softly turning the book around until she could get the right angle. "Most intriguing…Tell me Walter did you get to look at it from the right angle."
"There's a right angle?" The Butler retorted confused as he crossed the room, however before he could prise the book from his wife's hands the door to the sitting room was suddenly flung open and in marched his mother accompanied by a rather harangued looking Andrew Adams who had only just returned to duty after the funeral.
"Look Mr Adams if I've told you once I've told you a thousand times…" Emily ranted as the red faced under-butler sat the tea tray down on the table with a deliberate clatter. "I mean its not decent a man such as yourself hanging around a ladies room, if we need a man above stairs then well we'll call for one!"
"Yes Mrs Corey!" Andrew exclaimed meeting Flora's eye and watching as the housekeeper had to stifle a giggle at his harassed and despondent expression, his misery only seeming to lift when he caught sight of a very familiar looking tome clutched in the housekeeper's hot little hands. "Catching up on your reading Mrs Corey?" He added winking conspiratorially and sending Flora bright red in embarrassment. "Borrow it from Lady Rebecca did we?"
"No! I brought it back from India." Jarvis exclaimed quickly, a bit too quickly for Flora's liking and suddenly the pieces began to fall into place.
"Oh your idea was it sir?" Adams teased. "Well I can understand your reasons I suppose!"
"Yes THANK YOU Mr Adams!" Flora hissed taking the book and shoving it under a nearby cushion but rescuing the rose and pinning it delicately on her dress. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Aye I suppose I could find somewhere else to be….Might I say that flower suits you, ladies should always wear flowers I always think, I know Lady Rebecca is very fond of them." He added a somewhat pleading expression on his face that immediately tugged at the housekeeper's heartstrings.
"Well I'm sure his lordship wouldn't object to you taking some cuttings from the gardener up to Lady Rebecca to brighten her room!" Flora conceded her eyes narrowing as Emily began to protest but one sharp look from Flora cut her off before she could stick her oar in. "I should think you and Mr Samuels are well enough acquainted by now…" Flora probed unable to keep the flowers in Molly's room out of her mind. "I just hope his lordship will have some roses left by the end of the day." She added pointedly watching as both men shifted around guilty, confusing her greatly.
"Aye an excellent idea Mrs Ry…Corey, Thank you" Adams called out backing towards the door and avoiding the now huffing Emily who was muttering under her breath about no one listening to her. "Oh and do pay special attention to page 38 quite a favourite of mine!"
"Yes THANK YOU MR ADAMS!" Flora added her usually serene face now beetroot red.
"What's so special about page 38 anyway…" Jarvis muttered reaching down and picking up the hidden book despite his wife's non-verbal protest and opened it at the right page.
However to his credit there wasn't the explosion that both Flora or Andrew were expecting, instead he went suddenly very very quiet the hand that held the book shaking ever so slightly as he slowly turned the page round till he got the angle Flora had talked about, one eyebrow cocking slowly. "Fascinating." He whispered softly snapping it shut and slipping it into his jacket pocket.
"Mr Adams when you visit her Ladyship pass on my condolences as well as my thanks will you?"
"Aye sir!" Adams retorted unable to keep the smirk from his face as he slipped out the door.
"A good book?" Emily asked sweetly.
"Nothing of any particular interest Mother!" Jarvis gasped pulling at his collar as the temperature in the room seemed to escalate rapidly so he quickly accepted the tea he was offered drinking it far too quickly and scolding his tongue in the process.
"Oh Walter see you'll never learn!" Emily rebuked getting to her feet and heading out to fetch him a glass of water and so leaving the couple alone for a few moments.
"You could have told me!" Jarvis hissed in his wife's ear.
"Oh where's the fun in that?" Flora giggled naughtily pulling the book out of her husband's pocket and wantonly turning the pages. "So tell me love what is your favourite page?" She added innocently.
Growling slightly Jarvis pulled it out of her hand and shoved it firmly into his desk drawer locking it safely away just as his mother returned. Gratefully accepting the water she offered he waited until she returned to her own tea and cake before surreptitiously leaning down and whispering teasingly in Flora's ear. "I'll scrutinise it later and get back to you my love and then who knows perhaps we can re-enact it at our leisure?"
Sniggering into her glass of milk Flora didn't reply instead she simply caught his eye and held it lovingly for a few minutes unable to restrain the flicker of excitement that shot up her spine as she caught sight of the lustful glint in his eye. What on earth had she been thinking, there was nothing going on between him and Molly Watson. "We'll see!" She muttered before turning her attention back to the excellent lemon cake in front of her, reminding that the next time she saw Rebecca to pass on her own personal thanks, and not to give those nagging doubts any further thought.
After another particularly difficult day, Lizzie McDuff let out a rather large sigh as she sunk into Lady Rebecca's fireside armchair, arching her back against the upright, running her hands down its dark green velvour arms, closing her eyes, hoping, just hoping for five minutes peace.
She rested herself safe in the knowledge that both of her charges were sleeping soundly, having given (against her better judgement, but on doctors orders) Lady Rebecca a mild opium capsule in the hope of allowing her troubled mistress some much needed recuperation, after she had lain awake most of the night contemplating the day ahead.
As for little Hugo, he was tired out after the ordeal Hettie must have put him through in her absence.
Lizzie had been initially reluctant to leave the infant, even when she was assured that Molly would be taking care of him, but after a heartfelt pleading from her father that surely there should be one member of their family present, she agreed to be that one. She knew he wished it could have been him, but under the circumstances … well, it was something he was unfortunately getting used to by now. He'd said his goodbyes the previous night when Lizzie had waited until Lord Farquarson had left his mournful daughter alone (at her ladyship's request) in the nursery with her son, before sending word to her father. Lizzie too left them to their own devices, after all this was a very private moment, it was the last time they would see their son, so giving him one last lingering look as she closed the door, she slipped out into the corridor to say her own little prayer.
That morning she'd kept her presence at the funeral very low key, stifling her own emotion, standing very still at the back of the church, tears silently trickling down her cheeks as she watched Rebecca's outpour of grief as the ceremony drew to a close, and it was time to say the final goodbye. As Rebecca staggered back up the aisle, following the little white coffin carried by the two alter boys, she gripped her fathers arm, so tightly that on occasion, when she felt herself slipping, on renewing her grasp, Lizzie was able to see the old man wincing as her nails dug in.
When the small procession reached Lizzie, she felt her knees go weak, staring through tear-blurred eyes from the Rebecca, to the tiny little box, and back again. On catching her ladyship's eye, Lizzie was quite taken aback when Rebecca suddenly pulled away from her father, a move that quite clearly shocked him, to take Lizzie's trembling hands in hers.
Both breathed in deeply, both squeezing each others hands, as if in a bid to draw strength. On looking up into her eyes, Lizzie was utterly dismayed to see that the exterior expressed only a fraction of what was brewing within, she had never seen such sadness, such distress in a woman's eyes. Walking back towards the house, all she could think was this was not how it was supposed to be, no mother should ever have to outlive their child, it just wasn't meant to be.
Lizzie wasn't quite so sure how anything should be anymore. That morning she'd lied to Grace on receiving her first letter at Taplows. As per usual Johnny had been dishing them out to all and sundry, the lazy little tyke to bone-idle to deliver each one by hand himself. Consequently, Grace was left to pass on the envelope, no doubt immediately jumping to the right conclusion on seeing the post mark. Lizzie had told her it wasn't from who she thought it was, that it was from Mary McGlochlyn, one of the maids she had become quite close to whilst up at Lochberne House.
Of course she could tell Grace didn't believe a word of it, Lizzie had never mentioned a Mary before, but for some unknown reason, decided to give her friend the benefit of the doubt as she scurried off to stoke Lady Mary's fire – it was hot enough to bake a cake outside, but the batty old coot still maintained there was a 'devilish chill' about the place. However, Lizzie wasn't entirely off the hook, as she'd caught sight of her friend on her way up (supposedly, before her father's intervention) to attend Lord Hugo, Grace calling out to her that later she'd expect a full report on the gossip from up North.
Lizzie wasn't sure of the reason she'd, without even thinking, given another person's name as the author of the letter. The first answer that sprung to mind was Grace's current situation. Indeed, she had seemed brighter than the previous day, which was quite strange considering that Mrs Corey had confirmed her next-to-worst fear that George had been imprisoned, but Lizzie resolved that it must have been the fact that now she at least knew what had happened, that she was no longer wracking her brains as to his fate.
Then there was the other reason, one she had quite successfully pushed to the very back of her mind, and there it resided … until about an hour ago, remaining at the forefront since. On returning from the chapel, leaving the Farquasons to attend the burial, Lizzie was mortified to find Hettie bloody Willis cooing over her brother and not her aunt. She wasn't about to give the brazen little madam the satisfaction of seeing her rattled, simply taking a superior tone in dismissing her, requesting Mrs Watson to replace her. However, in reply she was informed, quite enthusiastically, that 'dear Mrs W' was 'probably a little tied up at the moment.'
Secretly she was furious with her aunt, or her father (as much as she could have been with him today), which ever it had been who'd left the poor little mite at her mercy, but didn't let her feelings be known on Molly's arrival, as she'd probably, just like everyone else (well, Grace anyway) not have a clue what she was on about where dearest Hettie was concerned. Molly had stayed until Rebecca arrived, immediately sweeping over to where Lord Hugo lay, awaiting his mother's return. She'd nursed him for good half an hour before finally admitting that she needed a lie down, that much, had been obvious to her company.
Whether it was the sedative or her own exhaustion, Rebecca drifted off as soon as her head hit the pillow. Not long after, Molly returned to her duties as she'd had word that once again Mrs Corey was more than pitching in with the jam making. Lizzie was left holding the child, who soon followed his mother's lead. She didn't put him down straight away, as she'd learned from experience that if he was placed in his crib, he'd instantly detect the loss of body warmth, and begin to grizzle.
So, she stood at the window, overlooking the rear of the house, gently rocking the babe in her arms. It wasn't long before she saw a familiar face come out to meet his master. The Earl had chosen to take a ride out that morning (no doubt his pitiful excuse for missing the funeral), now Will had gone out to meet him. After his lordship had dismounted the horse (notably with quite some difficulty, they'd all remarked how the old walrus face had obviously been quite taken with Indian cuisine to get into that state), Will took the reins and followed him back up the path.
It was on turning round to approach the house that he spotted her looking down on him. On first sight he gave her a little wave, which wasn't reciprocated, instead Lizzie giving him a courteous nod before gently indicating to the bundle she held. The Earl was quite clearly barking orders at him (none of which Lizzie could actually hear), orders which were quite obviously not well received, as Will, forever the joker gathered the reins, making them into a loop - into a noose as Lizzie discovered - as he cocked his head to the side, pretending to hang himself.
While this amused her, she couldn't stop herself from bursting into laughter as he continued, using the riding crop as a makeshift whip, not for the horse, but whilst the Earl's back was turned, proceeding, rather animatedly, to lash the thing dangerously close to his lordship's backside. Perilously close on the final occasion, at which the mater swung round, asking him what the hell he thought he was playing at.
Will wasn't the only one to jump out of his skin at that point, Lizzie held her breath, thankfully not for too long, as quite miraculously, Will retorted insistently 'There was a wasp my lord'.
'Yes well, in this bloody weather…' the pompous old prig continued as he disappeared out of sight.
Just as he was about to follow, Will looked back up at her, rolling his eyes and giving her a charismatic, yet charmingly boyish smile.
It was here in the armchair, half an hour later, on reopening her eyes, finding herself still giggling at Will's shenanigans, that it suddenly struck her, that peace and serenity may not be all they're cracked up to be, that leaving this place she had come to call home, these people she had grown to love, wasn't going to be as clear cut as it may, for one life-altering moment have seemed.
It was therefore on a much sombre note that the servants gathered that evening for the main meal, but other than the obvious pall of sadness at the day's events there was also an undercurrent of tension in the air which to the more observant seemed to intensify around certain people. The weather it appeared had also taken its cue, and the intense summer heat had boiled over into the tell tale cracks of thunder and lightening accompanied by a much needed downpour. However to the outsider it was obvious that whilst outside the pressure had finally been released, inside it was still gradually building and all that was needed was a well placed spark to set the whole powder keg alight.
It wouldn't have taken a mind reader to ascertain who was going out of their way to avoid who. At the lower servants table the usual cliques had been split asunder. Joe and Fred still weren't speaking so whilst the latter sat down the far end of the table raucously giggling with Will, that new bit of skirt Hettie and a somewhat confused Grace, Joe sat the other side of the morose under butler shooting disapproving looks down the table whenever the smutty laughter became to obvious. Adams on the other hand didn't seem to be paying them the slightest bit of attention, whereas normally he'd either be shouting them down or laughing at the blue jokes himself, tonight he was content to simply stare into his bowl of Mr Simpkins stew, as if divining the future in it's murky depths, whilst a worried Lizzie fluttered around him like a butterfly scolding him gently when he wasn't eating enough and all the while doing her best to avoid both Grace and Will's questioning glances.
It was at this point when it seemed the tension could get no higher that the hallway door opened and in staggered a very wet and very cross young man his spindly arms bowing under the intense weight of all the cases he was carrying. Finally caving in he threw them down on the stone floor, the resounding crash waking the under-butler from his self imposed trance and Adams practically jumped out of his seat in shock causing the already nervous Lizzie to drop the jug she had been carrying spilling the last of the water all over her only mourning dress.
"Who are you…What in bleeding Jesus do you think..?" Adams began bellowing only stopping in surprise when the young man in front of him started back as if slapped and immediately crossed himself at Adams blasphemy. "Oh bloody hell not another one!" Adams added finally realising who the little whipper snapper was. "Charlie Lewis?" He asked sarcastically.
"Charles Lewis!" The young man corrected in a somewhat clipped nasal tone as he brushed the remaining water from his previously neatly pressed suit and swiped at his still immaculate white blonde hair, lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders before bowing politely but stiffly in Adams direction an act that immediately had the other footmen sniggering into their sleeves.
"Why are you all wet laddie?" Adams asked confused. "Got lost and took a little dip in the pond did we?"
"No Sir but you might have noticed it is raining?" Charles replied politely but unable to keep the annoyed tone from his voice completely.
"Aye it is but you only had to get from the carriage…"
"I walked sir!" Charles added his eyes narrowing in irritation at the need to explain everything. "From my sister's in Tappleton, the Taplows cart that was due to pick me up this afternoon never arrived on time so I had no choice but to!"
"Frederick?" Adams growled turning his gaze on the now squirming footman. "I may have been occupied today but I am sure I heard Mr Jarvis instructing you to go into Tappleton?"
"I did, but I was running late and …well I just forgot…Then by the time I'd gotten there he'd gone see…" The other footman hedged.
"Running late?" Adams queried. "Tell me did Mr Jarvis instruct you to make any other little stop offs that would have caused you to be late? Or should we check if a certain young lady of ill repute now has a few more Taplows six-pences in her purse than she had this morning?"
"I…." Fred began looking between the amused Mr Adams to the silently fuming Charles Lewis.
"Will you never learn?" Adams muttered shaking his head in an effort to hide smile. "Charles my boy please sit down…someone give this boy an extra serving whilst I go tell Mr Jarvis you're here."
"You left me to walk five miles in the pouring rain so you could go visit your whore?" Charles hissed after Adams had left, his handsome steel grey eyes narrowing in anger.
"Look Mate I'm sorry I mean it but it's like no harm done, you're here now aren't you? Let's just call it an initiation of sorts for the new footmen, earning your stripes…"
"Yeah come on Charlie mate sit down and have some grog." Will offered good naturedly trying his best to smile at the new addition to their team. "Ignore Fred he's a prat at the best of times…If you want you can give him a bit of a hiding later but…"
"I wouldn't lower myself! And it's Charles!" He retorted squaring up his strong jaw and glaring down at the other lads before striding pompously to sit as far from them as possible, taking Lizzie's vacant seat opposite Joe who offered him his hand politely a gesture which a hesitant Charles accepted a few moments later.
"Oh just great another one!" Fred hissed nodding towards the two other footmen who where now chatting politely.
"Yeah it was bad enough with Joe going all straight-laced our own Mr Pompous but now we have Mr Pretentious as well, 'I wouldn't lower myself' who the hell does he think he is? The Archbishop of bloody Canterbury?" Will added sniggering at his own joke into his beer.
"I don't know he is rather gorgeous…" Hettie cut in biting her lip playfully as she tried to get the new footman's attention but failing miserably.
"He's no better looking than any of us!" Will retorted a hurt expression on his handsome face. "Don't you think Grace?"
"Depends on your type I suppose but Hettie has a point he has a classical sort of look, nice eyes, strong jawline..."
"Oh and we're just a couple of good looking scrag-ends?" Will retorted.
"Oh Will but we all love you!" Hettie cooed fluttering her eyelashes at the first footmen and leaning forward to pat his hand reassuringly which the panicking footman quickly withdrew but not before he had caught the disapproving glare from a certain lady's maid who had just returned and was now chatting amiably to both Joseph and Charles.
"Grace you don't think Liz likes him do you?" Will whispered to the still room maid causing her to look up in surprise.
"Urghhhh…I doubt it Will, I think she has her sights set somewhere else." Grace replied cryptically before glancing down at her plate in embarrassment and so missing the footman's eyes light up as he misinterpreted her meaning.
"Well we'll have to show him the pecking order round here won't we lads?" Fred muttered leaning back in his chair his eyes narrowing maliciously as he watched the new footman settling in. "Only fair after all." He added under his breath as a devious plot began to form in his mind, who knows by the time he was done not only would they have taught a certain Charlie Lewis his place but they might have been able to remind one Joseph James which side his bread was buttered as well!
"Mr Adams, are you going to keep staring out of that window all day! We have enough statues around here without you adding to the collection!"
Adams spun round as his mind jumped from their jumbled thoughts and coughed as a harassed-looking butler thrust a decanter of port into his gloved hands, gave him the once-over with a hint of pity in his eyes then turned sharply and marched off calling over his shoulder 'The port, Mr Adams, as quick as you like, the Earl's waiting in the drawing room!"
"Sir!" Adams responded hurriedly, following Jarvis out of the dining room.
"And I need you to show round the new lad at some point later if you can spare the time, give him a bit of an initiation." Jarvis stopped as Adams caught up with him, a small cynical smile flittering across his lips. "And I don't mean your kind of initiation, Mr Adams, just the usual dos and don'ts. He's come from a good house, even if the butler there doesn't know what his staff's doing most of the time, but if he works as hard as his sister he'll be giving our Mr Forest a run for his money within months."
"Aye, sir."
Adams watched as Jarvis trotted through the hallway, as he went scooping up small bits of dust only a trained eye could see before straightening a painting. As the under-butler's gaze fell upon the port in his hands he resisted the urge for a quick swig and made his way to the drawing room, where the Earl and Lord Farquarson were chatting about the news that Lord Fiffington-Piffles' trial was to begin in London in a few weeks. Lord Hamilton-Hussey, slouched in an armchair, lit a cigar and took a long drag on it, his expression fixed into a vacant frown and hardly looking particularly interested in anything either man had to say.
"And about bloody time." The Earl sniffed as he eyed Adams on his entry. "I'm parched over here man, what took you?"
"I'm very sorry, sir." Adams mumbled, crossing to the drinks cabinet. Monty puffed on his cigar and stared quizzically at him but Adams failed to notice as the conversation continued and the drinks were poured.
"I've been summoned to London, to give evidence. Dashed inconvenient." The Earl sighed as Monty (of the canine variety) yapped around his ankles. Oh fantastic, Adams thought as he placed the three ports onto a silver tray, more upheaval and another journey to London, he'd have to make sure he got out of that little jaunt.
Farquarson smiled wryly and chortled as he accepted his drink without so much as a cursory nod of thanks. "Well Algie if it gets the blighter behind bars where he belongs then it'll be worth being there just to see the look on the fellow's face!"
"Quite right, Cecil." Monty agreed, smiling and muttering his thanks to Adams, still wearing that same curious frown as the under-butler stepped back and waited on the Earl's instruction. Why he couldn't just leave the decanter so they could top up their own drinks as required he would never know, but as Rebecca's father was there he thought it may be in his interest to overhear any passing comment the old Lord might make. He didn't expect, however, to become aware of his plans for Rebecca's future in such stark terms as he was about to hear.
"How's my darling Francesca, Monty?" Farquarson demanded, stirring Monty from his intense gaze as he stared out of the window and across the grounds. The day was glorious, he was desperate to go outside, work out, possibly have a run to limber up his muscles, but these two silly old duffers wouldn't go near the front door without moaning about the heat. He wondered how on earth Algernon survived India when a bit of British summer irritated the hell out of him alone.
"Oh she's fine, always asking after her father. She sends her love." Monty replied with little enthusiasm, tapping his cigar into an ashtray.
"Probably about ready to drop now is she? You only have to look at her and she's ballooning and I'm not just referring to all the scoff you let her eat!" Farquarson laughed to himself, but if everyone thought Monty's souring expression was to do with Farquarson's crude use of the English language they were mistaken. If only he knew what his precious daughter was like, all the men she slept with, Monty thought to himself. Over in the corner, the servant was thinking exactly the same thing.
The Earl gulped noisily at his alcohol and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Nasty business, all this with Rebecca. And considering she's not got a husband any longer. You can't let her have her own way you know Cecil, if she were my Caroline she'd know who was in charge!"
Adams wanted to laugh out loud - him in charge of Lady Caroline! She had him twisted around her little finger, he would do anything for her, he'd help her bump off that useless husband of hers if he knew it would make her happy.
Farquarson grunted and climbed to his feet. At 6ft 2in he had a large presence, a loud voice and even louder cough which would often start up at around midnight and keep his poor valet on his toes until the small hours. "Yes well I've been thinking about that and I've been talking to my solicitor as you know. Rebecca may have a handsome dower, more than I would have thought considering Hugo's brief marriage to her, but as he did not have time to alter any jointure it is of course I who has financial control until the child comes of age.
Hugo was a wealthy man but there are other men – of a higher status – who I am sure would not find her a burden, in the monetary sense of course, if I can make her see sense. She's young, she won't want to stay the grieving widow forever once she realises that it would be in her best interest to remarry, for both her future and that of my grandson."
The Earl nodded in agreement but Monty sat perfectly still, apart from raising his hand to puff on his rapidly diminishing cigar. He glanced at Adams from the corner of his eye then back again as his father-in-law continued to speak in the plainest of terms about the daughter he said he wished the best for.
"This is nothing to do what I want, you understand." Farquarson boomed, his eyebrows shooting up as Lord Julian swaggered into the room and squinted at the mildly shocked faces. Julian snatched the decanter from Adams' shaking grip, poured himself a large one then roughly shoved it back at him before collapsing in a chair by the window, but Farquarson continued nevertheless. "Your party would be an excellent opportunity for her to, well, make an appearance. I don't mean actively look for another suitor but there will be a number of gentlemen who I am sure have always had designs on my daughter and will be beating down the door to come to one of your excellent parties, Algie. I know she isn't the most desirable of ladies considering her recently acquired status but she is still of child-bearing age and has proved herself in that department, apart from the unfortunate hiccup which we can now put behind us. I have heard word that Rufus Gannon has spoken of her highly, maybe he can be persuaded from his bachelorhood? I'm sure I could bring about a socially respectable – if a little premature – end to her mourning….?"
Suddenly Monty interrupted Farquarson's flow with a loud cough, choking on his port as his eyes widened in apparent amazement. He had stayed silent for a long time and simply watched, expressionless, as Farquarson spoke about Rebecca as if she had no mind of her own, but as Adams shot him a worried stare from the corner of the drawing room Monty's cough turned into a laugh as he leapt to his feet and paced in front of the two older aristocrats.
"Rufus Gannon!" Monty exclaimed with a snort. Lord Farquarson glared at him as a surreptitious smile crept across the Earl's lips. "That is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard you say, Cecil, and you have certainly said some preposterous things in your time!"
Farquarson visibly riled, looking positively affronted. How dare his son-in-law poke fun at him when he is being deadly serious! Adams stayed perfectly still but his eyes darted from one aristocrat to the other, his mind spinning with the awful truth the unsuspecting Lord had so callously announced to the room.
Did Rebecca know anything about this? Adams suspected she most certainly did not, Lord Cecil Farquarson hardly seemed like the caring father who would even bother so much as tell his daughter that the world was about to end, let alone he was planning to force her into another marriage like she was 18 and not 28 with a son and money of her own.
"What's wrong with Rufus!" Farquarson asked furiously as the Earl shifted awkwardly in his chair, glancing around for Adams then brandishing his empty glass for a re-fill.
"Oh come on, Cecil, we all know what Rufus is like!" Monty chortled, smoothening down his brown curls and leaning against the fireplace. "He's a bounder and a cad, not to be trusted, for God's sake he's even had unscrupulous dealings with Fiffington-Piffle in the past….!"
Farquarson huffed loudly. "That's just it, all in the past man!"
"And he just so happens to be one of the richest businessmen in the country?" Monty asked, his words dripping with sarcasm as the Earl muttered 'new money' under his breath.
"He's been banned from our club for life for a start, he's managed to upset a lot of people with his carryings on, and all that to-do with a certain drunken incident, The Times had a field day with that one, " Monty continued, slamming his glass down on the highly polished mantelpiece, but it was as if something occurred to him and he quickly removed the glass and wiped away any liquid which may have left a nasty stain that possibly a certain servant may have had to spend hours trying to remove. For a moment his brown eyes softened, he had little idea of what she did in a day and whether it included stain removal, he had hardly asked and he suddenly felt a wave of guilt.
"Poppycock, Monty!" Lord Farquarson bristled. "The poor fellow's a victim of his own success, it's jealousy my good man, jealousy!"
"She'll never agree to it, be realistic." Monty continued, shaking his head and loosening his cream necktie in the intense heat. "She's young, a free spirit, she's got everything to live for, why on earth would she want to be stuck with someone she would see as an old fuddy-duddy in his late forties?"
Adams shuffled nervously but Monty didn't seem to notice and carried on. "Besides it would be unheard of, she's still grieving for Hugo and little Archie, can't you just leave her be for now?"
Farquarson downed the last gulp of port then clicked his fingers at Adams and pointed to his glass. "I am her father, Montgomery, and I know he would be a perfect match for her! It would be an honour for her, she should be grateful, I mean like I say there aren't many men who would take on another man's son and what he could quite possibly see as used goods…..for God's sake man, watch what the bloody hell you're doing!"
Adams had missed the glass completely, sloshing the deep red liquid down Farquarson's white waistcoat so he looked like he had just been shot.
"I'm so sorry sir, I….." Adams began apologetically but Farquarson waved him away as the Earl barked expletives at his incompetent under-butler.
"What sort of fools are you employing here Algie!" Farquarson sniffed. "I'll have to change before dinner, most inconvenient I must say! Look at me, first I have to bury my grandson and now this, today really is appalling! It's my favourite damn waistcoat!"
Monty glanced at Adams and caught his eye as he retreated towards the door so he could find a maid to quickly remove the stain which had spread at Farquarson's feet. Although Monty wasn't smiling his eyes certainly were and the knowing glint caused the breath to catch in Adams' throat. He /can't/ know, Adams thought as he began to perspire in the intense humidity of the room. It was a hot day and this situation made the temperature almost unbearable. There was no way that Lord Montgomery could know, last time Adams heard him and his repulsive wife communicating with each other she was shouting at him over bedding his whore 'right under her nose'.
Surely there was no way she would tell him, it was her only card to play against her sister, the Sword of Damocles she wielded high above Rebecca's head, there had to be very little chance she would tell a husband she so obviously despised. Still, either way it looked like Rebecca had a much-needed ally in her brother-in-law and for that Adams was thankful.
At that moment an unsuspecting Jarvis entered the room, barging past Adams who had turned white as a sheet, his collar soaked in sweat. Lord Julian had begun to laugh in his chair, but that was hardly unusual, he would laugh at a bird landing on the window ledge if the mood took him.
"Dinner is served…." Jarvis began, but trailed off as his eye caught sight of the obvious, spreading stain on Farquarson's jacket. For once Julian's giggles had made sense.
"Yes well it may be served for some, but I have to go and change thanks to this imbecile!" Farquarson snorted furiously, indicating to Adams who gulped silently and slid out of the door. "Now where's my man, if he's not there with a fresh waistcoat in two minutes I'll have him strung up from the flagpole!"
"I have to attend to dinner and I've too much to do this evening, I'll speak to you about this tomorrow." The butler hissed to his subordinate after Farquarson had begun to make his way up the stairs, shouting and cursing so loudly he was sure to wake baby Hugo.
"It was an accident, sir, honestly…." Adams protested, but the sharp, cold stare in Jarvis' eyes begged to differ.
"Tomorrow, Mr Adams! Now please find Mr Forest, he should be here!" Jarvis marched off as Mrs Diggins appeared with Lady Mary, guiding her towards the dining room and away from the front door.
Adams rubbed his forehead - it had been an accident, but it felt good and part of him was glad he had done it. Andrew Adams 1, Cecil Farquarson 0.