Chapter Five
After his odd conversation with Hale, which had fortunately moved on into something more comfortable, Piers was glad to return to a tranquil scene in the house.
Sticking his head around the drawing room door, he found April in conversation with Professor Algernon, who sat beside her on the elegant sofa.
Claudia was reading some learned tome while Mrs. Hubble and Meg were engaged in needlework.
April’s gaze went to him at once. She smiled as she always did on seeing him again, a smile of pleasure and welcome that invariably lifted his heart with wonder and banished any fragments of loneliness still trying to haunt him.
“Ah. How was your ride?” asked the professor.
“Most pleasant,” said Piers. “Lovely day for it! Excuse me while I change.”
On the way, he glanced into the library where he found Hubb and Mal, each engrossed in their own silent reading. Piers grinned, because it was so reminiscent of the old days, and went on up to his room.
He was tying his cravat in the dark-panelled bedchamber he was using as his dressing room, when April whisked in, looking conspiratorial.
“Good news,” she said cheerfully. “Mrs. Riley has pressed two village girls into service, as well as a large if slightly simple man called Harold for heavy lifting duties. My hope is, the new people will break up the ill-feeling below stairs which I think is largely Edward’s fault.”
“I’ll speak to him after luncheon.” He met her gaze in the glass. “What else?”
“The candlesticks in the upstairs hall have vanished. And we still haven’t found Mrs. Hubble’s reticule. She is making rather a fuss about it.”
“Why? Does it hold some special significance for her? Or was there something valuable in it? What do you put in yours?”
“Depends where I’m going. To dinner with friends, with my bedchamber close by, I wouldn’t take much more than a handkerchief.
But then, I’m not a lady.” She stated it as fact, acknowledging her ignorance of such women’s customs. She was more likely than most to stuff her reticule with a notebook and pencil and a set of lock-picks.
Which had certainly proved useful at times.
“It’s an odd house,” she said abruptly. “Everything is...off-kilter. Unless I am.”
He turned and put his arms around her. “Are you?”
“A little,” she confessed, resting her cheek against his chest for a moment.
“Would you like to go home?” he asked gently.
She shook her head, drawing back. “Oh, no. I regard it as useful practise in hostess duties. I can learn from my mistakes here.”
Piers wanted her to enjoy these people, to be comfortable with them as he was. Not work. But it was inevitably harder for her.
“Do you like them?” he asked, keeping his voice light.
“I like your professor. And Meg. I’m not sure I know the others well enough yet to like them, but I can see why you do. Mrs. Riley is preparing a luncheon. Oh, and do you think I should write to Lady Temperley about the lack of servants?”
“Yes,” said Piers. He almost offered to do it for her but stopped himself in time. She was spreading her wings, gaining in confidence, and he was proud of her. “I was thinking I might send for Stewart, too.”
Stewart, his valet, was not too proud to turn his hand to other duties. At the same time, he had a sort of commanding presence that dealt with disruptive underlings like Edward.
***
AFTER LUNCHEON, WHICH was a light but delicious meal efficiently served by the three regular servants, Piers ensconced himself in the otherwise empty morning room and summoned Edward.
The footman swaggered in a few moments later and kept one hand on the doorknob as though he had only a moment to spare the temporary master of the house. “You wanted to see my, my lord?”
“Indeed.” Piers was leaning his hip against the windowsill. “Come in and close the door.”
With exaggerated patience, Edward closed the door and walked to the middle of the floor. “My lord.”
“What is your position in Sir Dominic’s household?”
“Footman, my lord.”
“First footman? Third?”
“Second,” Edward said, his expression betraying the first sign of resentment.
Piers raised one brow. “Really? By your performance since my arrival, I had not imagined you to have achieved any preferment at all. Of necessity, you are now our first and only footman.”
Edward inclined his head, but insolence still lurked in his bold eyes.
“Sir Dominic obviously did not feel you were necessary to his comfort in London. If I find you continue to discomfort the household here, he will not retain you.”
Edward’s mouth curled into a sneer. “I don’t see as that’s—”
“Believe me,” Piers said in the quiet, definite tone that had reduced the most unwilling undergraduates to submission, if not downright diligence, “this is no debate. Merely instruction. There will be no fraternizing, romantic or otherwise, with female members of staff. You will show every respect to your betters, and there will be no more sprawling about in the kitchen while the maidservants do all of your work. Do you understand me?”
“Your lordship is quite—”
“Do you understand me?”
Tight-lipped, Edward straightened. “Yes, my lord.”
“Then you may remain in this house for the time being. Run along.” Piers returned to contemplation of the view from the window, aware of Edward’s slightly stunned stillness. After a moment, the door opened and closed again.
Piers hoped it was enough.
***
PROFESSOR JULIUS ALGERNON had not expected to enjoy his chat with young Lady Petteril.
When he had sat down beside her to make conversation before luncheon, he had had two purposes in mind.
Firstly, to show her a little kindness after Claudia’s silly fuss yesterday, and secondly, to find out if she was remotely capable of taking care of Piers Withan.
Her background was still a mystery to him, but she was clearly bright enough, for she saw at once what he was doing.
Not that she was crass enough to tell him so, but he saw the understanding in her eyes—without resentment, too, only approval, as though she was glad to discover her husband’s friends cared for him.
She was not learned, of course. Very few young ladies were, but the viscountess was naturally witty, and if asked for her opinion, she thought before she spoke and was quite happy to ask for further information. She never looked bored or cornered or remotely intimidated. In short, he liked her.
When he asked delicately how her husband was coping with his duties as viscount, she replied, “Very well. It was hardly his choice, of course, but he enjoys the challenges.”
The professor’s worst fears—that Piers had married this girl from sheer desperation or loneliness, or, worse, her own grasping machinations—were left in tatters and he was very grateful for it. There was something very likeable about her. And Piers, while watchful of her, did not fuss or cling.
That was good enough for the professor, so by dinner time, he was able to observe other things. Like Hubble’s unconscious frown at unexpected moments. Like Claudia’s slightly hectic manners, which seemed to have been upon her since they arrived.
The bold footman bent just a little too near as he served her.
And Claudia, who should have either waved him back or ignored him, actually turned her head to smile at him.
The professor was shocked, until he realized that in all probability, she was actually looking at Joe Hale, who had sat back in his chair to laugh at something Lady Petteril said on his other side.
Algernon was almost surprised by his own relief. He must have unsuitable and unequal relationships too much on his mind.
After the ladies had withdrawn, with the atmosphere more subdued than last night—thanks to the men’s over-indulgence—Algernon found it easier to gain a quiet word with Withan.
“I must say, I do like your viscountess, Withy. Charming and intelligent, both. And kind, I’m glad to say.”
Withan inclined his head, making no comment. Perhaps he was waiting for a but.
“Actually, I wanted to apologise on Claudia’s behalf,” Algernon said hastily. “I don’t know what got into her, but I hope she hasn’t given Lady Petteril a dislike of her.”
Withan blinked. “You said something like that last night, too, but I can’t imagine how she would.”
Algernon peered at him. “Are you being polite? Or did the viscountess not tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Claudia made some remarks about her allotted bedchamber yesterday, finding fault without reason. Not like her, but not forgivable either. I made her back down, of course, and Lady Petteril was kind. Claudia should have apologised by now, but I wanted you to know it was nothing more than an instant’s ill-nature, nothing more important or deliberate. ”
Withan’s eyes gave nothing away. Very often, they didn’t.
It came back to Algernon in a rush how often Withan had fooled him with that look.
At first he had thought it betrayed a lack of understanding, then disagreement or even boredom.
But it didn’t. Or not necessarily. Withan merely kept his thoughts to himself unless or until he chose to speak them.
“I’ll pass your words on to April,” he said at last.
***
IN THE DRAWING ROOM, meanwhile, April was quite surprised when Claudia Algernon chose to sit beside her on the sofa. Some distance away, Meg was admiring Mrs. Hubble’s needlework.
“I apologise,” Claudia said abruptly. “For yesterday. I made a silly and unwarranted fuss about the bedchamber. I regret it. In fact, it is a lovely room.”
April, who rarely bore grudges, smiled at once.
“I hoped you would think so. It’s quite an odd situation, isn’t it?
Living in a house none of us has ever seen before.
Things should run more smoothly now that more staff have been brought in.
One should be able to order a bath now without too much difficulty! ”
Claudia smiled. “I own I have already done so. It felt most luxurious.”