Chapter Eighteen #2
“Strictly speaking Flora is a Blaxland,” Marcus said mildly.
Lady Gosforth turned her lorgnette on him.
“We’ll hear no more of that! She will be christened as a Renfrew in the family chapel at Alverleigh!
” She frowned momentarily. “Or would it be better done in St George’s, Hanover Square?
” She shook her head. “No, we don’t want curious busybodies wondering why she wasn’t christened before now.
It must be the family chapel at Alverleigh, where Renfrews are always christened. ”
“Very well, Aunt Maude,” he murmured, well pleased with the outcome. Little Flora would now have her own personal champion in his aunt. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll see how everything is going upstairs.”
She inclined her head graciously. “You are excused. Tea will be served in half an hour. Don’t be late.”
#
MARCUS HAD JUST PUT his foot on the first step when there was a discreet-but significant cough behind him. He was well acquainted with the sound. “Yes, Peverill, what is it?”
His butler glided forward. “It’s about the boy, m’lord. Young Joey.”
“Has he been behaving himself?” Marcus asked, expecting to hear that he hadn’t. Not surprising, expecting a boy raised on the streets to adapt easily to a gentleman’s house.
“Very much so,” Peverill assured him. “In fact . . .”
“In fact?” Marcus prompted him.
“He’s spirited, I’ll grant you and sometimes mischievous as boys are . . .”
“But?”
“But he’s also very intelligent, m’lord. Unusually so.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, m’lord. It took him barely a week to learn his alphabet and start deciphering words. And as for arithmetic—he took to that like a duck to water. You should see how quickly he can add up a column of numbers. In his head!”
“Really?”
“I was wondering . . .” The butler hesitated.
“Go on.”
“What are your intentions for the lad, m’lord? Only I doubt he has the makings of a footman, or indeed anyone in service. He . . . he’s a good boy, but not really . . . a respecter of rules if you take my meaning. He’s what you might call an independent thinker.”
That didn’t surprise Marcus. Joey had bent and broken rules from the beginning of their acquaintance.
What did surprise him was Peverill taking such an interest in him.
He’d taken the boy on with the utmost reluctance.
His current enthusiasm for the boy’s abilities was unexpected, but Marcus had known Peverill for many years and had great respect for his insight.
“What do you think I should do with him then?”
“It’s not for me to say, m’lord”— Peverill took a deep breath—“but if the lad were my grandson, I would . . . I’d send him to school.” He swallowed.
Marcus considered the suggestion then nodded.
“Very well, we’ll take him down to Alverleigh with us when we return, and he can attend the village school.
Life in the country will give him a chance to catch up on his education and explore his options,.
If he proves to have the potential you see in him, we’ll send him to a good school.
Train him up to some profession. What do you think? ”
Peverill’s normally impassive face broke into a smile. “Thank you m’lord. That’s very generous of you. I assure you, the boy won’t disappoint you. He’ll be as good as gold, I promise you.”
Marcus laughed. “Let’s hope he’s not a complete angel.
It’s good for a boy to get up to mischief now and then, and mischief in the country is not nearly so grim as it can be in the city.
” Joey had recognized the danger to Tessa long before anyone else.
He himself had discounted the boy’s warning, thinking it was just an imaginative boy’s tale.
But if it hadn’t been for Joey . . . He shook his head to clear his mind of the dreadful thought.
The boy deserved every chance Marcus could give him.
He turned to mount the stairs, then paused. “The dog, Peverill. My aunt has always been utterly antipathetic to dogs, and yet I noticed earlier. . .”
His butler allowed a faint smile to appear.
“The animal has winning ways, and appears to have charmed her, m’lord.
Any night that m’lady has no visitors and no plans to go out, she sits knitting or sewing in her sitting room, the little dog at her feet.
She even talks to him—I gather he’s good company.
She also ordered a basket made for the little fellow to sleep in and sewed a cushion to line it herself. ”
Marcus raised his brows. “So, miracles do happen?”
Peverill permitted himself another small smile. “Indeed, my lord.”
#
THE CHRISTENING OF Flora Louise Blaxland Renfrew was to be in six weeks.
Marcus had written to his brothers to invite them, but their replies indicated they were unlikely to make it.
Even if were able to get leave, it was too far for Nash to travel from St. Petersburg in the time given.
Gabriel was busy with events in Zindaria, of which he was the Regent.
And Harry said he would try to come, but it depended—as it always did with him and Nell—on the horses.
Not that Marcus and Tessa minded. Marcus understood the demands on his brothers’ lives, and Tessa was uncertain of how Marcus’s family would respond to her. All of them descending on her at once was an alarming prospect, so she was happy to have it delayed
Though now she had both Marcus’s and Lady Gosforth’s support, things would be easier.
Lady Gosforth, giving up the notion of a family gathering at the christening, had decided that an Easter ball at Alverleigh would suffice, and had already begun negotiations with her nephews for their attendance.
She wasn’t worried about the ton attending.
“Where I lead the ton will follow” she declared, and nobody dared argue.
After a few days in London, mainly to purchase supplies for Flora and Clothilde, and for Tessa to have final fittings for the clothes Miss Chance had made for her, they traveled down to Alverleigh.
Marcus, in particular, was eager to get there—he’d been a long time away from his estate and knew there would be work to catch up on.
Tessa was happy to be leaving London. She was still uncomfortable with the way people stared and whispered about her, as she knew they would once they learned of her marriage to Marcus.
Before they left on their honeymoon, he’d send a notice to the newspapers announcing their marriage, but it wasn’t ‘old news’ yet, and the gossips were still busy.
And once people realized they’d come back with a toddler in tow, well, the tongues would wag even more, and she’d rather not be there to witness it.
Nevertheless, she had mixed feelings about going to Alverleigh, mainly because she would be only a stone’s throw from her beloved Ferndale, and wasn’t sure she could bear it.
They arrived in rain, gray, dreary drizzle. As their carriage turned in between the impressive high stone pillars that supported the gates to Alverleigh, Tessa swallowed.
The gently curving drive lined with ancient oaks straightened bringing the carriage to a perfect view of the house. She’d never seen it from this angle, never actually ventured onto Alverleigh property when she was a child, and the drive approaching it had been designed to impress visitors.
Even through the drizzle, the house was impressive.
It was huge, several stories high with wings spreading out each side from a central tower-like structure.
Tessa received an impression of many windows gleaming in the rain, numerous turrets and chimneys.
She swallowed. Marcus was explaining some of the history of the house, but his words became a background blur and she didn’t take much in.
She would be mistress of this enormous house. She’d never been the mistress of anything. In her previous marriages she was merely ‘the wife’—her husbands made all the decisions and the staff more or less operated without her. How many servants were employed here?
She was very thankful that Peverill and Cook were in the second carriage behind them. And that Lady Gosforth had engagements to attend and would come much later, so she wouldn’t be here to watch Tessa trying to learn the ropes. Peverill and Cook would help her adjust, she was sure.
#
THE NEXT MORNING DAWNED clear and sunny and, when Tessa threw open the windows of her bedchamber, the air was fragrant with the scents of damp earth, damp leaves, and the last flowers of autumn. It cheered her. It smelled like home.
Marcus had already told her he would be having a very busy day, catching up with his estate agent and dealing with tenants and various local matters. “You familiarize yourself with the household and staff,” he told her over breakfast. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
As she’d hoped, Peverill introduced her to the main staff.
And as she’d feared, there were too many servants for her to learn all their names at once, though she vowed to herself she would.
But she was treated from the first with deference and respect—and welcome—as the mistress, which was a relief, if also a little unnerving.
Alverleigh was her home now, she kept reminding herself. Yes, it was a magnificent house, quite intimidatingly so, but she would get used to it. Eventually. Even the gardens were spectacular, the neatest she’d ever seen, with an army of gardeners to keep them spick and span.
But more important than too-big houses and too-neat gardens and too-many-servants, she had a husband and a child to love.
She played with Flora whenever she could. The little girl seemed quite happy with her new home, the nursery with all its toys—old as they were—and she delighted in the garden, where she and Billy played.