Chapter Four #2
April nodded as though that made perfect sense. Which it didn’t. “Let me know if you see them when you’re in the other rooms. I’d hate Lady Temperley to think we’d lost her beautiful candlesticks.”
“Oh, they can’t be lost, my lady,” Becky said fervently. “They’re huge!”
***
IN THE CIRCUMSTANCES, April felt she should check on progress in the kitchen before she offered her guests cups of tea. She suspected there would be more flirting than cleaning going on below stairs, but in this, she was proved wrong.
The breakfast dishes were all washed and put away and the big table well-scrubbed. When April entered, Peggy was mopping the kitchen floor while Edward was hanging up a vast array of large copper pots for heating water.
Edward was saying, “A huff is not becoming in a girl.”
“Neither is rank faithlessness in a man,” Peggy retorted.
“Oh, come on, Peg, I was only teasing the poor girl. How was I to know she’d take me seriously?”
“Probably because your tongue was halfway down her throat!”
“Oh, for the love of—” Edward spun around and caught sight of April.
Peggy tossed her head. “I don’t care you know. It’s a relief to me. I’ve got better fish than you to fry.”
“Good morning, my lady,” Edward said with the first shade of desperation she had seen in him. Though whether it was further revelations about him or about Peggy he was desperate to prevent, April could not tell.
Peggy gasped, swinging around with her face bright red.
“I was going to suggest tea for our guests,” April said. “Would that be possible before Mrs. Riley returns?”
“Of course, my lady,” Peggy said. “Edward, boil the water in the big kettle...”
“I don’t suppose either of you have seen the silver candlesticks from the first-floor alcove?”
They both looked blank, so she left them to it.
She rather suspected Edward had been courting both maids and been caught. Which was why Peggy wouldn’t speak to him, and the weeping Becky wouldn’t speak to her. No wonder servant romance was forbidden in most respectable houses. Why was it allowed in this one?
***
PIERS DREW THE PROFESSOR back to a walk—not the human professor but his equine namesake—and Hale and Fosterson soon caught up with him.
“That’s the same horse you had in Oxford,” Fosterson said, as though just discovering it.
“So it is.”
“Not tempted to buy something much showier and suitable to your rank?” Hale inquired.
“Oh, we’re used to each other,” Piers said vaguely. “What about you? Will you be able to keep a horse at your new living?”
“Oh, a couple, I should think. I rather fancy being a fashionable vicar with a curricle instead of an ancient gig.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Piers fixed him with his gaze. “Looking forward to it?”
Hale opened his mouth and closed it again. “No. I like Oxford. How could you bear leaving?”
I didn’t. Not at first. “I had no choice. At least you got to make your own decision.”
Hale grunted.
“You’re not regretting it, are you?” Fosterson said uneasily.
“Of course not. I am the luckiest man alive to have won Claudia. I would give up more than an Oxford fellowship for that prize! What of you, Fosterson? Will you start your own practice?”
Fosterson wrinkled his nose. “Not sure I have the capital. I’d have to live and eat while gathering enough patients to be comfortable. Not easy in the country.”
“There’s London,” Piers said. “Gil Laine has set up there.”
“I know, but I couldn’t ride like this in London! My spirit would die.”
“There are parks,” Piers said mildly. “And it’s not so far to places like Richmond.”
“And there are other towns,” Hale added. “It’s not just a choice between London and rural life. Why don’t you look around Oxfordshire? We might end up as neighbours.”
Fosterson grinned. “Got any nice, fat estates in Oxfordshire, Withy?”
“Sadly not. And on the estates I do have, the physicians all seem pretty settled. I can certainly ask around, though. Only—wouldn’t you be bored with gentry ailments and the odd farmer’s broken bone to set?”
Fosterson sighed. “To be honest, I’m so full of ideas and contradictory plans that I have no notion what I want. Or what would bore me. I need about a year travelling to make up my mind!”
“Nonsense,” said Hale. “You just need the love of a good woman. Like me.”
Sensing Hale’s gaze, Piers looked at him. His old friend’s eyes were not exactly friendly.
“And Withy.” Fosterson sighed. “And Hubb.”
Piers wondered why Hale had not said that. Was he casting silent aspersions at April? As if she was not a good woman? His hackles rose.
“Anyway,” Fosterson said, “how would I keep said good woman? Supposing I was fortunate enough to find such a paragon who would tolerate me.”
“It might stop you flirting with the maids,” Hale said.
“I always flirt with pretty girls,” Fosterson said firmly. “And Withy has already warned me off his.”
“His wife?” Hale said, startled.
“Don’t be an idiot! The pretty maidservant! I have some honour, you know!”
“Ha,” said Hale rudely. His attention had returned to Piers. “What made you choose your wife, Withy?”
Piers had assumed the question would come up at some point and had already elected for honesty and absolutely no detail. “Honour,” he said. “And love.”
They were all silent for a little before Hale said abruptly, “I like her. She suits you.”
“She does,” Piers agreed, and changed the subject.
It was only when he and Hale were alone in the stables, unsaddling their own horses, that Hale seemed to return to the matter somewhat obliquely.
“You don’t mind about Claudia and me, do you?”
Piers blinked. “Of course not. I like Claudia and heartily approve.”
“She wondered if our engagement might upset you.”
Piers frowned. “Why on earth would I be upset?”
“Oh, come on Piers! We were pretty much rivals at one time.”
A lifetime ago. He had almost forgotten.
Certainly, the matter had slipped far to the back of his mind.
“Boys’ stuff,” he said, although even as the words came out, he wondered if they were true.
A few vague memories were inserting themselves into his mind, a little blurred by time, growing unhappiness, and, latterly, the effects of too much alcohol.
And other substances. “I suspect it was always you and Claudia.”