Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
The following day, Lucian was leafing through his correspondence in the study. After having spent most of his life as the black sheep of the ton, it was astonishing how many invitations he received now that he was a viscount.
Collins appeared in the doorway. “Lady Rosalie has arrived, my lord. She said she is here to interview the household staff. I showed her to the green parlor, as we discussed.”
Lucian sprang to his feet. “Excellent work, Collins.”
He jogged down the corridor, straightening his coat as he went.
He was glad Rosalie had been able to compose herself enough to come.
Seeing her cry yesterday had damn near ripped his heart to shreds.
He had known that he was in for a long journey when it came to proving himself to her. Her reaction was not unexpected.
Still, it had been painful to see.
Well, Lucian, it’s no more than you deserve. You have no one to blame but yourself.
He entered the parlor, which was decorated in shades of mint green. “Rosalie,” he said, bowing low to press a kiss against her hand. “How are you this morning?”
He had been tempted to add the words my love to the end of his question but suspected she would not appreciate that. He was glad he had refrained when he noted the tightness of her jaw.
She nodded crisply. “I’m fine.”
He could tell she wasn’t but decided to let it go. “I thought we might use this room because it has a good writing desk. Collins,” he called. “Help me move the writing desk to the center of the room. I don’t want Lady Rosalie to have to crane her neck.”
A look of surprise came across Collins’s face at the suggestion that his master might like to lift the furniture himself. “Allow me to summon the footmen, my lord.”
“No need.” Lucian already had his hands on one end of the table, and the butler hurried to take the other side. “We mustn’t keep Lady Rosalie waiting,” he said as they moved it away from the wall.
Once it was in place, Lucian grabbed the chair and brought it over, too, holding it out for her with a flourish. “My lady.”
“Thank you,” she said crisply, taking a seat.
“Were you able to speak with Dr. Hutchinson?”
“I was not.” She had busied herself arranging paper, pen, and inkwell, and Lucian rather thought she was avoiding his gaze. “I called on him this morning, but he was out visiting a patient. I’ll try again this afternoon.”
“I see.” Lucian reached into his breast pocket.
“I had Collins compile this list of the household staff and the length of their tenure. As you can see, there are six servants who have been here since my grandfather’s time.
” He turned to his butler. “If you would be so kind as to gather everyone on the list. Lady Rosalie will speak to them one at a time.”
Collins bowed and quit the room. Rosalie eyed him warily.
He cleared his throat. “I have instructed the servants to answer your questions with complete honesty.”
She arched a brow. “And you think they will comply? Would it not risk their position if they were to say something you would rather I not hear?”
“It would not, but I understand the reason for your concern. How about this—I shall leave the room. I will not be privy to whatever they did or did not tell you unless you choose to share it.”
After considering for a minute, Rosalie nodded. “I think that will be for the best.”
The first witness was Mrs. Robinson, who had served as cook at Deverell House for more than ten years.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” Rosalie gestured to the Chippendale chair that had been positioned facing the desk. “Please, have a seat.”
Mrs. Robinson eyed the chair warily, then glanced back at Rosalie as if she was unsure if she was really allowed to sit upon the fancy furniture. At Rosalie’s nod, she settled gingerly into the chair.
Rosalie began pouring a cup of tea. “How do you take your tea, Mrs. Robinson?”
Now Mrs. Robinson really looked startled. “Oh! Just with a splash of cream. Thank you, my lady.”
Rosalie passed her the cup. “I understand that you served as the fifth viscount’s cook for eight years. Is that right?”
“It is, my lady.”
“What was the fifth Lord Valentine like?”
Mrs. Robinson smiled. “There’s a reason I stayed on as long as I did.
Good-natured, that’s the word for the fifth viscount.
He had a cheerful disposition. Some employers will find something wrong with every meal.
Not his lordship. I don’t think I heard a word of complaint in all the time I was here.
In fact, he would very often send his compliments to the chef.
” She laughed blackly. “It’s just a shame his lordship didn’t pass that particular quality on to his grandson. ”
Rosalie leaned forward eagerly. “You’re referring to the present Lord Valentine?”
Mrs. Robinson’s eyes went wide with genuine surprise. “Oh, no, my lady! I meant his cousin. Lysander.” She spoke his name as if it were a foul curse.
Now it was Rosalie’s turn to be surprised, because unlike Lucian, Lysander had a pristine reputation. “Really? What would Lysander do?”
Mrs. Robinson leaned forward in her chair.
“He moved in about four years ago. We all thought it made sense at the time, as once his grandfather’s memory started to go, it went fast. Well, that first day, he told me he wanted goose for supper.
Not a problem. I’ve been a cook for almost forty years now.
I certainly know how to roast a goose. I went over to the market at Smithfield, but the few geese they had didn’t look very good.
I tried Newport Market as well and stopped in at a few local butcher shops that I knew and trusted, but there wasn’t a decent-looking goose to be had.
So, I sent a note to the grandson, saying that the geese weren’t any good, but I could fix him a nice duck instead, or if he wanted my recommendation, the pork that day looked particularly fine. ”
Mrs. Robinson took a sip of her tea, then continued, “I didn’t think a thing of it.
It’s precisely what I would have done with his grandfather, and he was always happy to go along with my recommendations.
But the next thing I knew, Lysander—it feels wrong, calling him Lysander, but I don’t know what other name to use—came storming into my kitchen, bellowing about how my ‘insubordination’ would not be tolerated!
Well, I never!” Mrs. Robinson looked genuinely offended.
“I told him that if he wanted to eat four-day-old goose, it was no business of mine, but my recommendation stood. He shouted something about how his instructions were to be followed to the letter. So, I sent Timmy back to the market to get the best goose he could find. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t very good, and somehow, that was my fault, too.
” She threw her hands up. “Truly, you couldn’t win with that man! ”
Rosalie had stopped taking notes and was sitting there, stunned. This certainly wasn’t a very flattering portrait of the man she had come ever so close to marrying. “And Lysander was always like this?”
Mrs. Robinson nodded. “Oh, yes. There was always something. Too much dill! Not enough dill! The roast was too rare! Then, the roast was overcooked!” She shook her head.
“As I said, I’ve been a cook for almost forty years.
It’s not as if I send scorched meat to the table.
Then, there was the time he couldn’t understand why the tart had been made with dried fruit.
Where, exactly, did he expect me to find fresh peaches in January? ”
“And he would yell and shout over such a thing?” Rosalie asked.
“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Robinson paused for another sip of her tea.
“Now, I’ve been in service since I was nine years old.
I’m not about to break down in tears if my employer raises his voice.
I’m made of sterner stuff than that. But the rages he would fly into…
I’ve never seen anything like it! And over the most trivial things!
It reached the point that we had trouble keeping maids and footmen because of the constant shouting.
And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he went and changed the menu. ”
Rosalie was still shaken from how close she had come to marrying a man who would have made her life a misery.
She blinked at the cook, wondering if she had misheard.
“He changed… the menu?” This seemed like a trivial complaint compared to terrorizing the staff, although perhaps a cook would feel differently.
“For his grandfather,” Mrs. Robinson clarified.
“Bear in mind, at that point, I’d been cooking for the old viscount for six years.
I knew what he liked for breakfast, for luncheon, for all of it.
But then Lysander moves in, and suddenly, his lordship wasn’t to have anything but porridge for breakfast!
The viscount had never once asked for porridge before.
And I mean plain porridge. No sugar. No raisins.
And for lunch, it was cold chicken and bread.
No butter. No sauce.” She made an incredulous sound.
“Lysander would berate me if I used the lightest sprinkling of salt. It was as if he wanted it to taste bad! And then for dinner, his grandfather got nothing but bread and broth. All while Lysander was feasting like a medieval king, mind you!”
Rosalie frowned. That did sound quite restrictive. At the same time, it sounded as if the fifth viscount’s health had been in decline, and physicians did sometimes order a lowering diet in order to balance the humors.
Rosalie made her voice sympathetic. “Did his physician order the change of diet?”
Mrs. Robinson shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, my lady.”
Rosalie nodded and made a note. “I understand that the present viscount, Lucian, used to take his grandfather out once a week, on Tuesdays.”
“He did, my lady.”
“Did the old viscount appear worse off following those visits?”
Mrs. Robinson paused as if she were considering her words.
“The thing is, in my role as cook, I’m always below stairs.
So I didn’t see the old viscount with my own two eyes all that often.
Now, people talk, and I’ll own that I heard some things.
And I have my opinion about what the current Lord Valentine was doing.
But I think it might be better for you to ask Mr. Collins and the other servants who saw it for themselves. ”
“An eminently sensible suggestion, Mrs. Robinson.” Rosalie looked up from her notes. “Thank you for your time today.”
“You’re most welcome, my lady.” Mrs. Robinson rose and headed for the door.
Just before she laid her hand upon the knob, something occurred to Rosalie. “If I might ask you one more question.”
The cook turned her head. “Yes?”
Rosalie swallowed. “You mentioned that the fifth viscount did not pass his easy nature on to his grandson. Does that apply to the present Lord Valentine as well?”
She could almost see Mrs. Robinson weighing her words. “He’s been here for all of a week. So it’s hard to say for sure. But the only words he’s spoken to me so far have been, ‘Thank you, Mrs. Robinson. That was delicious.’” She gave Rosalie an arch look. “Make of that what you will.”
She strode through the door, leaving Rosalie to wonder which cousin was really the devil himself.