Chapter Nineteen
Leaving Lady Becks’s bedchamber as her father strolled in, book in hand, Martha Brubbins dipped into her own bedchamber beside the nine-year-old’s and collected her notebook. Then she left again, shutting the door behind her so it looked like she’d retired for the evening.
Martha was quite aware that most governesses did not reside in large, well-appointed bedchambers on the same floor as the family.
She also knew Lord Hentrose relied on her being close by Rebecca, especially on mornings when he had to leave the house early or on evenings when he attended a soiree and returned home late.
Padding as silently as she could down the curved staircase, she headed toward the back of the house where the kitchen and the servants’ quarters lay.
This was where she would end up after the wedding, if she was lucky.
From what she’d observed of Lady Pauline, and more significantly what she’d been able to coax from Lady Becks, neither she nor the marquis’s daughter would remain under his roof for any longer than was absolutely necessary for appearance’s sake.
Becks would be sent off to boarding school under the pretense that it was for her own good, the little dear, and with no daughter on the premises, there would be no need for a governess.
That distressed Martha, of course; she’d been with the Raines family since a month after Rebecca’s birth.
It wasn’t merely about her employment, though; the Raineses had become her family.
And though she was far from a fashion icon or an authority on the rules of aristocratic femininity, she’d learned what she could and done her best to follow the marquis’s wishes—to help Rebecca become a kind, thoughtful, independent, and well-educated lady.
She adored Becks, and the idea of sending that imaginative, sensitive young lady into a den of self-concerned, strict, unimaginative teachers and cruel, judgmental peers made her shudder.
It could not be allowed. If it wouldn’t have meant destroying any trust the girl had in her, and quite possibly upending the relationship between Becks and her father, she would have gone straight to Lord Hentrose and told him everything she knew.
In this instance, though, straightforward honesty didn’t seem to be the wisest course of action.
For once, she found herself agreeing with Lady Rebecca that a more … imaginative approach was required.
Walking into the kitchen, she took a seat at the table. “I apologize for my tardiness; Becks is still up in the rafters about the party being tomorrow.”
“I don’t doubt it, precious thing,” Louise Alliday, the longtime Raines House cook, cooed, smiling. “Both of those children are adorable. And kind, and—”
“Yes, we’re aware, Louise. On with it, Martha.” John Butler took a drink of tea and opened his own notebook. “And Bradley, you still aren’t forgiven for spilling the oranges when the squirrel attacked Lady Pauline.”
“I didn’t have time to tell you the plan,” Bradley Jones retorted with a grin. “I didn’t even know the plan, except that I was to help with any mayhem that might occur.”
“I don’t ever want those two youngsters mad at me.” Across from Martha, Mr. Fredericks leaned over to light his cheroot against the candle and sat back to take a puff. “Little devilish geniuses, they are. I’ve never been prouder.”
“We haven’t accomplished anything yet,” Martha Brubbins pointed out, “other than ruining Lady Pauline’s coif.
Now. From what Becks overheard at her grandmother’s luncheon, Pauline is frustrated, and is willing to …
do something to force Lord Hentrose’s hand.
I believe it’s the children’s plan to thwart this, and instead arrange for their parents to be the ones compromised together, leaving them no choice but to marry. ”
“Replacing one scandal with another doesn’t seem much of a solution.” The butler waved his hand through the faint smoke cloud of Mr. Fredericks’s puffing.
“I agree.” Martha nodded, unsurprised to have a consensus. Servants tended to reflect their employers, and Lord Hentrose was a fine, caring man. “In my opinion, a union should be up to them. I’m only here to give the children a fighting chance, and to be certain they aren’t blamed for any of this.”
“Then we spend the evening making certain no one has a moment alone with anyone else.” Butler made a note in his book. “That’s accomplished easily enough.”
“Yes, up until the moment someone asks you to leave the room.” Martha shut her eyes for a moment. “We are staff. We cannot defy orders without a damned good reason to do so.”
“What do you suggest, then?” Mr. Fredericks asked.
“We will need to involve the children, I’m afraid. And as determined as Lady Pauline seems to be, someone will more than likely end up being the object of gossip. I think it should not be either Lord Hentrose or Mrs. Silbern.”
“If it isn’t both the Grenedy woman and the duke, we haven’t prevented a marriage.” Mr. Fredericks eyed her. “You know what we need to do, Martha.”
“Oh, goodness.” Mrs. Alliday fanned herself with both hands.
Butler cleared his throat. “I generally don’t condone such nonsense, but servants talk, you know.
I may not know much about Lady Pauline except for what Lady Becks has disclosed and the one exchange I witnessed, but I have heard several tales about the duke.
He would not make a good match for Mrs. Silbern. ”
“We’re doing this, then?” Martha Brubbins asked, her pencil poised. “Whatever it takes?”
“Yes, dash it all. I’m in. Whatever it takes.”
The cook drummed her fingers against the worn tabletop. “Perhaps we should compile a list of things that need to happen, and their order. Some things for us to tend to, and some for the children. Because without a plan, we may end up with squirrels running amok.”
“That’s a fine idea, Louise,” Martha complimented. “The children will be perfect for moving a parent somewhere quickly.”
“Lord Hentrose isn’t a fool, though,” Butler said, frowning. “And we will pay the consequences for any misstep.”
“Well, we’ll just have to be clever, then, won’t we?” Martha said, attempting to sound breezy when in truth the entire idea terrified her. Each of them had a great deal to lose here. Employment, position, trust—the list went on and on.
“I can put a wet cloth in the stove and make it smoke,” the cook offered.
Martha nodded, writing it down. “That’s good. Something perhaps amiss, but nothing specific.”
“Misplaced silverware,” John Butler contributed. “Not necessarily stolen, but a puzzle in need of unraveling.”
“Good.”
“If I know which room will be involved, I can pull a chimney vent shut.” Bradley took Mr. Fredericks’s cheroot and ground it out in candle wax. “We don’t smoke in this house.”
“Smoking calms me,” the tutor retorted. “I thought this situation might benefit from me not fleeing, screaming, into the night.”
“What do you have to worry about?” Bradley countered. “Edmund will need a tutor, whether his mum remarries or not.”
“In the Silbern household my eccentricities are appreciated,” Mr. Fredericks said. “I have no doubt that the Duke of Trent’s household will wish nothing to do with a tutor who speaks in rhyme. I’ve been trapped by my own cleverness, it seems.”
“You could apply for a position elsewhere without the rhyming, couldn’t you?” Louise asked.
Butler nodded. “That might even be preferred, if you’re tired of the affectation.”
Mr. Fredericks blew out his breath. “When Mrs. Silbern hired me, Edmund … Well, he’d just lost his papa, and he couldn’t fathom what had happened or why everything was changing.
He wouldn’t talk to me at all. So I started rhyming.
It got his attention, and when I didn’t stop, it gave him someone with whom to be angry and annoyed.
Once he began responding to it, well, I just kept it up.
It worked. It still does. It’s exhausting at times, though, I have to say.
This is the longest non-rhyming conversation I’ve had in months. ”
The rest of them looked at each other, and then Butler nodded at the first footman.
Silently Bradley reached over and pulled another cheroot from Mr. Fredericks’s breast pocket, stuck the end in the tutor’s mouth, and lifted the candle to light it.
“You have permission to smoke here,” he said, returning the candle to the table and sitting back again.
“In the kitchen only,” John Butler added.
“My thanks,” the tutor said, around the cheroot. “Back to our plan, then.”
“Does Mrs. Silbern know?” Martha asked.
Mr. Fredericks nodded, a small smile touching his mouth. “She does. I think she’s worried that I’ve been damaged by all this somehow, though, and I’ve not corrected her thinking. I need this job.”
Martha took a breath. “We all need our jobs. Now. Let’s continue, and I’ll meet with the children in the morning for any ideas they may have, as well. Once we’ve all agreed, I believe we’ll have a plan.”
“A mad one,” Bradley muttered, grimacing.
“This is a mad household. I would expect nothing less.”
“Ah. I see you received one, as well. I’m surprised not to see children’s sticky fingerprints all over the blasted thing.” The Marquis of Elmond flipped his dinner invitation onto the table and sank into the chair beside his father’s. “It’s peculiar as hell.”
“Is it?” the Duke of Trent asked, perusing his own invitation. “Yes, children’s handwriting, but Lord Hentrose’s signet and delivered by servants in livery. All very proper.”
“Why are we invited to Hentrose’s dinner party? I’ve barely exchanged a dozen words with the man.”
Trent laughed. “If you don’t approve, don’t attend. I, for one, mean to take this opportunity and secure the hand of my newest bride.”
“What, your imaginary contest hasn’t made her eager to fight for victory and leap into your bed?”