Chapter 7
Two days later, Meriel used her free time during the afternoon to lay out her evening clothes for the Assembly that night. The sedate gown of deep purple, with a respectable neckline, had been crushed during the move, and she hadn’t bothered to have it ironed.
To prevent more unrest, Meriel was trying to keep quiet the news that she was attending, so she could hardly ask Beatrice or Clover to take the gown to the laundry. She would just have to ask the laundress herself. Surely the woman would not refuse her request.
It was a several minutes journey back to the servants’ wing of the house, where the corridors were narrower and darker.
She passed the occasional footman or scullery girl, but no one questioned her.
She had to cross the entrance to the servants’ hall on her way, and she held her breath, hoping that luncheon was long finished.
A woman’s voice called, “Miss Shelby?”
Meriel closed her eyes and came to a stop. It was not Mrs. Theobald. She turned about and looked into the hall.
There were several long tables with benches on either side.
The ceiling rose high above, and on either end were massive hearths that would fit in as well with the decor in her own father’s drawing room.
Beatrice, Clover, and two other women that Meriel couldn’t place were just rising from the table with plates in their hands.
“Did you wish to speak with me?” Meriel asked, not knowing to whom she was directing her question.
Beatrice coldly eyed the gown Meriel was carrying. “Back to the laundry again, are you?”
Clover snickered behind her hand.
Meriel simply nodded.
“What do you need such a fancy dress for?” Beatrice demanded.
This was the question she’d been dreading. “I’m to accompany young Lord Ramsgate.”
Beatrice reddened with obvious anger, Clover’s mouth dropped open, and the two other women fell to whispering to each other.
“You’re attending the Assembly?” Clover demanded.
“There is a children’s reception in the next room. I will be overseeing Lord Ramsgate there.”
“But you’re attending the Assembly,” Clover said again.
“I will be working,” Meriel pointed out.
Beatrice strode towards her, leaving her dishes forgotten on the table. “But you’ll be escorted by His Grace.”
“He is my employer, the same as he is yours,” she said patiently.
“But you’ll be escorted by His Grace!” Beatrice fairly shouted it like an accusation.
“It’s not fair!” Clover said to the other two women.
“It is not my wish to attend,” Meriel said, wondering if she could turn her back and walk away.
“He can’t have chosen her!” Beatrice said to the others. “He’s been in London so long he hasn’t picked one of us in ages!”
Meriel was stunned that the woman was near tears. “He has not chosen me for anything other than as governess to his son.”
“And she’s stupid, too!” Clover cried, aghast. “Everything’s going wrong. He’s never waited this long to choose one of us!”
Meriel stared uncomprehending between them, and was relieved when the voice of sanity in the person of Mrs. Theobald, spoke from the doorway.
“Girls, what is going on here?”
“Has he chosen her, Mrs. Theobald?” Beatrice demanded as spokesman for the group.
The housekeeper’s lips formed a thin line as she glanced at Meriel with a surprising amount of guilt. “He has not chosen anyone, girls. I am always the first to know.”
This seemed to mollify them. With their noses in the air, they marched past Meriel without saying another word.
Meriel stared at the housekeeper in the silence that followed, waiting for an explanation. When none came, she said, “Mrs. Theobald, what do they worry I’ve been chosen for?”
The older woman sighed. “Come to my office for tea, Miss Shelby.”
Meriel didn’t want tea. But she wanted answers, so she accompanied the housekeeper across the corridor to her sitting room.
Mrs. Theobald closed the door behind her and poured them each a cup of tea from a tray on her desk.
The account books of her station were lined behind her on shelves.
A table and several chairs were grouped on the far side of the room, where Meriel knew she often hosted the upper servants for dessert. Meriel had never been invited.
Oh, she knew Mrs. Theobald would not deliberately hurt her. The woman was only thinking about Meriel’s position as governess, one above the other servants. But Meriel would have enjoyed having an occasional conversation that was not about Stephen.
Mrs. Theobald sat back in a cushioned chair next to Meriel and released a deep sigh. “Miss Shelby, His Grace has certain…peculiarities, all of which are tolerated because he is a duke.”
Meriel nodded, feeling worry begin to seep in to squeeze her chest.
“Have you noticed how lovely most of the female staff are?” the housekeeper asked.
“How could I not?” Meriel said dryly. “Nurse Weston said I was hired for the same reason, although I find that very doubtful. I am well qualified to be a governess—”
Mrs. Theobald interrupted. “I have no doubt that you are, Miss Shelby. But it is true, His Grace prefers to look upon beauty in his household. There is a purpose to this of course, one that is morally reprehensible. But he is so generous about it that none of the girls mind. In fact they almost…compete.”
“Compete for what?” Meriel demanded, losing her patience.
“Every month or so, the duke chooses a new mistress from among the staff, either here or in another of his homes.”
Meriel stiffened and simply stared at the housekeeper, who watched her closely.
“Are you saying…he deliberately chooses a member of his own household and demands that she…satisfy his needs?” She felt sick to her stomach that she had not suspected the duke of such depravity. While she’d been trying not to fantasize about him, he’d been sizing her up as a potential conquest.
“There is no demand involved,” Mrs. Theobald said.
“The maids understand very well what will happen. When the duke chooses a woman, she is treated like a queen for that month, showered with gifts, and in the end, given a sum of money that she could not hope to earn in her lifetime. Of course, she is then released from the household, but none of the women have minded.”
“Are you saying that it’s acceptable because he pays them as if they are prostitutes?” Meriel said, aghast.
The old woman put her face in her hands for a moment.
“His father the old duke was the same. I regret that I take it for granted, but there is nothing I can do to change it. If His Grace treated the girls cruelly, I would stand up to him. But he doesn’t.
They experience more kindness from him than most have ever seen.
Do you know how they’d react should I try to stop the practice?
You’ve seen Beatrice’s and Clover’s reaction to you. ”
Meriel sat back and tried to rationally examine her own disappointment.
Masters seducing their servants was nothing new—the fact that these women wanted to be seduced was something she couldn’t imagine.
She knew she’d been partly chosen for her features, but it seemed worse now that she knew he might act upon his baser needs.
She finally realized that she had thought this behavior beneath him. Had she expected him to be noble, when he’d shown her no such inclination? Why did she want him to be different than other sinful men?
Because she was attracted to him. Because the feelings she couldn’t control told her he was worth her admiration.
And she’d been lying to herself, letting her emotions sway her judgment. He had shown her the kind of man he was over and over—forgetting about his son for months on end, maneuvering to get her alone, talking to her like she was an equal to ease her suspicion of him.
He was looking for a woman easily seduced. And the way she’d been behaving, he could have kissed her and she might have believed she was special to him. She was the worst kind of fool.
“Miss Shelby?” Mrs. Theobald spoke in a hesitant voice. “Are you well?”
“I am.” Her voice was back under her control, and she would make sure her silly emotions followed. “Thank you for explaining everything to me.”
“Are you going to leave your position here?”
Meriel thought of Stephen, who’d seemed to blossom under her discipline and tutelage. How could she leave him with his father, a man who might very well hire the next governess because of her bosom, not her intellect!
Then she remembered the duke’s strange behavior on the beach, when he’d acted as if Stephen was in danger. What if the boy truly was? She could not abandon Stephen.
“Mrs. Theobald, if he…chooses me, can I refuse?”
“It happened once before, Miss Shelby, and the duke accepted rejection with good grace. After all, there are so many eager young women to choose from,” she added sadly.
“Did the woman lose her position?”
“No. Although I will admit that within the year, she found work at another grand household of her own free will.”
“Very well then. I will not leave Thanet Court—except for my sister’s wedding, of course.”
Mrs. Theobald glanced at the wrinkled gown Meriel had laid across a chair. “I assure you that I had a conversation with the laundress—”
“This is a gown I haven’t worn yet,” Meriel interrupted. “I was wondering if the laundress wouldn’t mind ironing it before tonight.”
“Of course,” the housekeeper said with a smile. “Allow me to take it to her.”
“Thank you.” Meriel hesitated, but it had to be said. “Mrs. Theobald, if the subject of me as a potential mistress comes up with His Grace—”
“We don’t speak of such things, Miss Shelby.”
“But if it does, make sure he understands that I will never be one of his household conquests.”
“A governess is a lady above the rest of the household servants. Perhaps he would not consider such a liaison.”
But Meriel saw how the duke looked at her, like a man who was…interested. She would not return that interest, even if her traitorous body wished otherwise.
~oOo~