Chapter Eighteen
“Lady Emmaline, this cannot continue. We all think so.”
“Indeed, we do. I’ve had three maids threaten to leave just last night.”
“I couldn’t agree more, my lady. The duchess’s stomach is so upset that there is nothing I can cook to please her. I’ve tried everything, but it is her presence that is the problem. Not my cooking.”
Emmaline took a breath as she faced off against butler, housekeeper, and cook. All three of them coming into her parlor during her first quiet minute of the day.
“I see,” she said, keeping her voice calm. “And by her, I assume you mean Miss Wong.”
“It’s not her fault, my lady. We all know that.”
“She’s had a bad go of it, and that’s a fact. But you see—”
“If I could explain plainly, my lady, the hubbub is simply not appropriate for a ducal home. Not when there are other places she could go—”
“To rest and recover.”
“In safety.”
“Away from your mother.”
Goodness, they were tripping over each other in their haste to make their point.
She tilted her head. “And you all feel this way?”
“Absolutely.”
“Yes.”
“With regret, my lady.”
“And all three of you believe that you can’t manage your duties while Miss Wong is in residence. Because why exactly? Does she make demands on the kitchen? Yell at the maids? Throw things at the footmen?”
“My lady!” Chiverton said with a hard sniff. “It’s because she’s a murderer.”
Mrs. Pizzi visibly shuddered. “No one will go into the room. I’ve brought on extra people—like you said—to clean up the mess—”
“They were a rough lot, milady,” inserted Chiverton, “but they did their job. I saw to it.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Pizzi cut in, her voice hard. “But even so, no one will go in the room. I’ve had to shut it up.”
And Emmaline was still staying with Lady Kimberly while Yihui used her bedroom. “The new wallpaper was put on yesterday,” she said. “The linens and rug should have arrived by now.”
“But that’s not the point!” Mrs. Pizzi cried. “I’ve had one girl leave already and more threatening. They won’t go upstairs. They fear for their lives.”
Emmaline huffed. “Then they are remarkably silly girls. You’ve seen Miss Wong’s feet. She can’t walk. She can’t hurt anyone.”
Chiverton took up the argument. “My lady, you are a Christian example to us all, sitting day and night with the…the foreigner. But I’ve seen you turn away from the bedroom. Even you can’t go into it.”
She couldn’t deny it. She still flinched from the memory. The room itself brought everything back in a way she couldn’t deny. “But what has that to do with Miss Wong’s presence? The room will still be the room, even with her gone.”
“Once she departs,” Chiverton said clearly, “we can all put this wretched thing behind us.”
The cook agreed. “Without the reminder, your mother will rest better and eat again.”
“My mother is not in danger of fading away,” she snapped. “Neither do we allow silly maids and timid footmen to decide who resides as our guest. Especially one commanded by Prinny himself!” She set aside her embroidery. It was hideous anyway. “And if you cannot control your staff—”
“My lady!” Chiverton huffed, his tone matching hers for indignation.
“No one is more cognizant of the responsibilities of this family to the Crown than I am. I fear, however, that you forget how the rest of the country scrutinizes everything you do. I’ve had to chase away reporters climbing on the ivy.
Even the smallest gossip gets recorded and printed for everyone to read.
Just imagine what is being said about this family!
” He sniffed. “It cannot be allowed. It cannot!”
What was outrageous was that a member of the household staff spoke to her in such a way.
Worse, instead of coming to speak to her directly, Chiverton had stirred up the rest of the staff to force her hand.
He wanted Yihui out of the house, and he wasn’t above fostering open rebellion as a way to get what he wanted.
But such was the privilege of a butler who had been with their family for generations.
From father to son, the Chivertons had served the dukedom for a hundred years.
As much as she hated it, he had the right of age and ancestry to speak so boldly to her.
Then before she could frame a suitable reply, Mrs. Pizzi took up the cause.
“There are places she could go, my lady. Good houses where she could recover. You wouldn’t have to exhaust yourself staying in the sickroom with her. Your father could come home instead of sleeping at his club.”
“Mrs. Pizzi, of all people, you know how she was hurt.”
“Our hearts bleed for her,” their chef, Mr. Gaudreau, said firmly. “But you must see that this upset is not good for anyone. It’s terrible, just terrible.”
There she had it. Every reasonable, logical excuse to send Yihui packing.
She even had the name of a boarding house that would treat the girl well.
And if getting the foreigner out of here quieted not only their home but the entire neighborhood, then really it was for the best, right?
They couldn’t have their family name bandied about in the papers.
That wasn’t how a duke’s family behaved.
But such casual cruelty was not how she behaved.
She stood up from her chair, being sure to face them squarely.
“What I find terrible is that the three of you can go to church every Sunday, recite words of charity and understanding, and then be so callous at home. Do you fear that we will die, Mr. Gaudreau, if we don’t consume your food every day?
Do you think a few articles in the paper will destroy the dukedom, Mr. Chiverton?
And Mrs. Pizzi, it wasn’t so long since your own family came to these shores.
Indeed, I believe I had a few girls threaten to leave when you were hired. Shall I bow to their demands now?”
“My lady!”
“Such a thing to say!”
Housekeeper and cook stiffened at her harsh tone. They both exclaimed their outrage but didn’t say more because they waited for the ringleader—Mr. Chiverton—to express their opinions in a more formal way. He was Emmaline’s true adversary, and so he spoke with pompous righteousness.
“Articles in the paper—even a few—cause damage. It is our duty to bring these matters to your attention.”
“You are right, Chiverton,” she said. “Pulling journalists off the ivy is too much for a man of your years. I shall speak with Papa directly about lightening your duties.”
The gasp of shock was audible, not from Chiverton but the other two.
Threatening a change in butler was akin to declaring war on the entire staff.
A war, incidentally, that Emmaline could not win.
Chiverton was only echoing her father’s position and in a battle between herself and her father—well, in this household, the women always lost.
“My lady,” Chiverton said coldly. “You are overwrought. Might I suggest a lie down? I shall have Mrs. Pizzi bring you some tea.”
She smiled. Time to show them her mettle.
“An excellent idea. Mrs. Pizzi, I shall be residing in the yellow—er, green bedroom for now. The workmen are done. I understand that the maids are being silly about going in there, but I’m sure you aren’t made hysterical so easily.
I expect that you—personally—can see the room prepared for me? ”
That last question was more of a statement, one that implied obedience or immediate dismissal. And as an Italian foreigner, Mrs. Pizzi knew it would be impossible for her to get another position without a reference from Emmaline.
The lady’s eyes widened in shock, then she dipped her head. “Of course, my lady. Right away.” She turned to depart, but Emmaline didn’t miss the venomous look she shot Chiverton.
“It’s really cruel,” Emmaline said to the woman’s retreating back. “Men stir up trouble, but it’s always the women who pay.”
She saw the comment land on the housekeeper, causing her steps to pause and her shoulders to twitch. Given the woman’s earlier compassion for Yihui, Emmaline guessed that the butler and chef had stirred her to outrage. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be as quick to rebel in the future.
Which left Emmaline to confront the other two. Or rather one, since Mr. Gaudreau quickly bowed out.
“I shall finish the tarts, my lady. They are perfection and will be delicious with your tea.”
She barely acknowledged his departure because she was still eye to chin with the butler, a man who had once cleaned her scraped knees and retied her hair ribbons. Indeed, as a father figure, he had been warmer than her own. But now they stood as if a frozen ocean churned between them.
“Chiverton, this quarrel does neither of us any good—” she began. He didn’t let her finish.
“I do hope you choose a husband soon, my lady. You have as much responsibility as your brother to carry on the title and the longer you wait, the fewer children you’ll be able to bear. Indeed, that number may already be frighteningly small.”
Emmaline gasped, the barb finding its mark with a sharp pain.
Chiverton knew how much she wanted children.
And they both knew that the lack of heirs was a constant worry for her parents.
To throw that in her face now was the kind of petty cruelty that was, well, it was just the kind of thing her father would do if she dared question his behavior.
And because Chiverton had been cruel, she returned the statement in kind.
It wasn’t a normal action on her part, but sometimes wounded souls lashed out.
“Be sure to air out the green bedroom. I shall be looking to you to see that the air is clear in there, the furniture dusted, and everything in its place. Assuming that’s not too hard for one of your advanced years.”
If he poked at her age, then she would return the favor. Of course, she immediately regretted it. When all was said and done, she was the mistress and he the servant. It was cruel of her to punch down at him, even as he arched a mocking brow at her and sketched a very shallow bow.
Stupid, stupid, stupid to fight with her own butler. Perhaps they were right. Yihui was upsetting her more than she thought. And now her pride had made it so that she’d have to sleep in that room. How was she going to close her eyes and not have nightmares?
Best do it now. She’d always been one to face her fears, so she squared her shoulders and purposefully left the parlor to head to the newly christened green room. And since there was a maid in the hallway, she couldn’t flinch from her task now.
The room was closed because neither Chiverton nor Mrs. Pizzi would open the room themselves.
Or at least not alone. So it was left to her to twist the knob and push the door back.
For the briefest of moments, she saw the soft green paper that she herself had selected.
She noted the stripped bedframe without even a mattress and the equally bare floor.
And then the memories overcame her.