April 1913
"Oh dear," Jean said, mostly to herself.
"Everything will be alright, my darling," Lucien answered, patting her hand where it rested in the crook of his arm.
In truth, he had no idea if that would be the case or not. He and Jean had just gotten out of the carriage in front of Bolton Hall. The place was more like a castle, though Lucien had been told there actually was a Bolton Castle on the estate that now belonged to Lucien. The great stone edifice was imposing to say the least. Lucien had traveled in his youth, but he'd never seen anything like it before. And Jean, who had only ever gone as far away from Ballarat as Adelaide, certainly never imagined such a structure. And now it would be their home.
That had been a topic of long conversation between them in the last month before making the journey all the way from Australia to England. Lucien had at first just wanted to go on his own and talk to the lawyer and sort everything out and then come back home to Jean. But she wouldn't hear anything of it. She saw what it took him time to recognize, that being heir to an estate was a responsibility. Jean Blake was not a woman who ever shirked responsibility or allowed anyone around her to do the same. She had encouraged Lucien to write to the lawyer to ask questions, and sure enough, the responses proved that anything less than living on the Bolton estate, at least for a year or so, would have terrible consequences for others. The people who worked the land needed an employer and landlord to protect them from the threats of modernization; life as a tenant farmer was far preferable to that of a factory worker in a city, but with no farms to work, people would have little choice than to move to cramped and unhygienic places in the cities and do dangerous work only to be paid pittance. Lucien had thought perhaps to sell the estate to someone who would run it better than he, but the lawyer had warned against that as well, at least not until Lucien had seen the place for himself. Another point that Jean agreed with.
It was a difficult decision for Jean, to push Lucien into making a proper go of being a baron. She herself had no idea what she was going to do here. And leaving her sons far away in Australia had been painful. Thankfully, both Jack and Christopher had come to see them off in Melbourne. And they'd both promised to come visit for Christmas; Lucien was a baron now and insisted on sending the fare for the boys to travel. But until then, she would be alone in a strange land. Already she was looked down on in Ballarat for going from farmwife to widow housekeeper to doctor's wife. What would the peerage of England think of her now having the audacity to be a baroness? Jean herself didn't know what to make of that.
But one thing she did know was the importance of carrying on. Of finding a purpose and a way forward and making do. It's what she had done all her life, whenever new challenges stood in her way. She met them as they came, and she would do so here as well. And Jean had been a housekeeper for the old Doctor Blake for a long time. True, he was only one man, but he was very particular about things. All that to say that Jean knew how to manage a house. She'd never managed a staff before, particularly not in a grand estate like this one. But she would learn as best she could. Jean only hoped that there would be kind, understanding people to help her adjust. She was not entirely sure how to behave as a lady of a house. She'd only lived for three months as Lucien's wife, and they'd only hired a cook barely two months before the fateful day of the telegram informing Lucien of his new role. Jean had barely gotten used to having a cook before she was swept up in all of this. Now, she would have an entire staff.
"Oh we can't have this," Lucien breathed.
The front doors opened to Bolton Hall and a crowd of people came out, lining up to the right of them. Everyone was dressed in uniform. The maids—too many of them to count—in black dresses with white aprons and hats. The men—footmen? Butlers? Lucien wasn't entirely sure—were all in very neat livery. There were just so many of them! Surely it didn't take this many people to manage this house? Well, house was rather an understatement, but nevertheless!
"Welcome to Bolton Hall, My Lord," a man greeted. He looked to be about Lucien's age, around fifty or so. He was tall and very thin but looked quite elegant and confident. "My name is Hopkins. I am the Head Butler of Bolton Hall."
Lucien stepped forward and away from Jean's grasp to shake the man's hand. He looked rather surprised. Perhaps that was the wrong thing to do.
But Hopkins allowed it. "And this is Mrs. Weaver, the Head Housekeeper."
A woman with graying hair and a severe expression stepped forward. She wore all black and oddly reminded Lucien of Agnes Clasby without the charm. "Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Weaver," Lucien greeted with a nod, knowing better than to try and shake her hand. He then turned to Jean. "This is my wife, Jean. Baroness Bolton, I suppose. She worked as a housekeeper for many years, and I'm certain you'll have commonalities as you help us adjust. We hope to be good stewards of this great estate, and I know we'll both rely on the staff here to help us learn all we can."
Jean tried not to wince as Lucien revealed to the servants that she herself had been a servant before coming to this place. She was not ashamed of her past, not in the least, but she knew better than Lucien that people do not rise above their preconceived notions in the way he might expect them to. Lucien had always flaunted authority and tradition, and it certainly rubbed people the wrong way.
Hopkins and Mrs. Weaver shared a glance at each other but did not speak. Hopkins instead instructed two footmen, Charles and Richard, to collect the bags from the carriage and take everything up to the bedrooms.
"Bedrooms?" Lucien asked curiously.
"Yes, My Lord. Your Lordship's bedroom and Her Ladyship's bedroom," Hopkins explained.
"Oh no, we're married, we'll obviously have one bedroom," Lucien protested.
A young woman in a black dress—no apron, though—stepped forward. "If I may, Your Lordship, it may be easier for Her Ladyship's wardrobe to be kept in her bedroom and Your Lordship's wardrobe to be kept in your bedroom, but your…erm…private arrangements are certainly your own to manage however you wish."
Mrs. Weaver immediately scolded the girl. "I'll thank you not to speak out of turn, Adams."
Lucien did not care for that at all. "No, that's a very reasonable solution, Miss…"
The young woman stepped forward. "Adams, My Lord. I am the lady's maid to The Lady Bolton."
Jean met her husband's eye, and they both silently agreed that Miss Adams would do quite well. The others, they couldn't be entirely certain of. Jean stepped forward and shook hands with Miss Adams. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Adams. I shall look forward to getting to know you better. Thank you for the suggestion."
Hopkins then pointed to a man in a uniform slightly more elegant than the footmen's livery. "My Lord, we have selected Swift to serve as your valet."
Lucien did shake Swift's hand, as it seemed rather rude not to. "I've never had a valet before. You shall have to help me make proper use of your services," Lucien said in a friendly fashion.
Swift, a man likely about forty, had blonde hair and a kind face. Lucien liked the look of him. He met Lucien's smile with one of his own.
"Adams and Swift shall show you to your quarters so you may recover from your travels. I shall oversee the unpacking and be available to give you a tour of the house whenever you would like," Hopkins added.
"Swift, Adams, please lead the way," Lucien said. He offered Jean his arm, and the two of them entered their new home for the first time.
It was incredibly beautiful. That was Jean's first thought. Her second thought was wondering how on earth they kept it clean. Well, the small army of maids was the answer to that. The whole place was stone and carved wood, and Jean had never seen anything so magnificent in all her life. The idea that she would be living here as lady of this house was even more impossible now than it had been upon receiving that telegram.
They followed the valet and lady's maid up the grand staircase and down a corridor. Jean would have to wander around for herself later in order to learn her way through everywhere. She'd be lost for a week, she knew.
At last, Swift took Lucien through one door to His Lordship's bedroom, and Adams took Jean through the next door to Her Ladyship's bedroom. It was immediately clear that they were adjoining, which was convenient for a whole host of reasons. Jean knew that she and Lucien would have to decide between them which room they'd actually sleep in. Jean rather hoped they'd decide on her room. It was all done in gold and pale green, and she thought it beautiful. She would like to live in this room, even if it was far grander than anything she'd ever imagined.
"Adams, before we do anything else, I wonder if I might go see the kitchen. I'd like to speak with the cook about the sorts of things that Lucien and I like to eat, and I'm curious about how the stores are kept and such," Jean said, turning back to her lady's maid.
The maid helped unpin Jean's hat and put it aside. "Of course, My Lady. The kitchens are downstairs, along with the servant's hall, which is where we all eat and spend our time when we aren't on duty."
"And your quarters?"
"The servants are all on the third floor. The family bedrooms are here on the second floor. And the fourth floor and the attic are used for storage."
"I see," Jean replied. "Lucien and I will probably explore every inch of the place before too long, but I'm afraid we'll be at quite a loss for a while."
Adams smiled. "You'll manage, I'm sure, My Lady."
Jean then followed Adams out of the room and back down the stairs, through a drawing room of some kind and down another set of stairs. A loud voice met them as they approached the servant's hall.
"Bad enough that they're Australian and probably criminals as it is. Now the lady is a housekeeper? A housekeeper playing as a baroness? Mark my words, that woman surely seduced His Lordship and trapped him with her cunning ways. I'd rather die than serve a strumpet like that!"
"I don't think it will come to that," Jean said loudly, interrupting Mrs. Weaver's rant. "Dying would be a bit melodramatic under the circumstances, Mrs. Weaver, but I am sure that you won't mine packing your things and leaving this house at once. I have no intention of lording over anyone, staff or otherwise, but I will not allow anyone to speak of me or my husband like that in our own home. We are new here, it is true, and we are Australian, and we are unfamiliar with the ways of the peerage. But we are kind, decent people, and any assumption to the contrary is unacceptable and proof that you are not the sort of person I want in my house."
Mrs. Weaver gaped at her, nearly in tears at the shame of being overheard speaking so ill of the lady of the house. "My Lady, I…"
"You are dismissed, Mrs. Weaver. Your words just now have taken away your opportunity for any kind of amends you might offer. I have no interest in hearing it, much as you have no interest in serving a woman who clearly was a better housekeeper than you shall ever be. I would never dream of thinking such things about someone, let alone speaking them out loud." Jean took a deep breath and turned away from Mrs. Weaver, ignoring the stares of the other staff around her. She asked Miss Adams to please introduce her to the cook.
Mrs. Carter, the cook, was as pleasant and friendly as Mrs. Weaver had been unpleasant and unfriendly, and Jean was pleased at that. She instantly liked the small, round woman with her blonde hair and happy brown eyes. Jean was glad that at least two members of the staff were kind to her. Time would tell for the rest.
Lucien, meanwhile, was in the library with Hopkins, who was explaining how the last Baron liked to organize things. Lucien liked to do things his own way, but he recognized that the staff was obviously not used to his ways, and he would have to be careful in going about changing too many things before he understood how it was all done. He was mulling over how to explain this to the butler when a footman appeared—Charles, Lucien thought—with Jean behind him.
"There you are, darling!" he greeted. "Isn't this room wonderful? I imagine we'll spend a lot of our time in this library. Hopkins was just showing me the collection."
"That's wonderful," Jean answered. She seemed a little out of sorts. "I look forward to learning all about it, but I have to tell you, Lucien—and you, Hopkins," she added, turning to the butler. "I'm afraid we're going to need to find a new housekeeper."
"Has something happened with Mrs. Weaver, My Lady?" Hopkins asked in surprise.
"Yes," Jean answered coldly. "She was entirely unsuitable. I have hopes we can find someone better able to fill the position."
Lucien did not like the sound of that. Not at all. But he should have expected that things would not go smoothly. After all, it was quite a change for all of them. It would take time to figure it all out.