Chapter Five #3
“He’s terrifying, but as it turns out, he produces wonderful foals.”
And so, they chattered on. It occurred to Poppy that she would not have thought speaking to a gentleman to be so easy.
She had thought it would be nerve-inducing.
Especially speaking to a gentleman who looked as well as Mr. Lelander.
His light hair showed its varying shades in the firelight; it really ran from a light brown to wheat colored.
His blue eyes were really a very lovely shade; their old drawing master would have named the color cerulean.
Eventually, the viscountess rose and indicated that they should retire.
Henry, Smythesdon, and Hemmings were to be left to bring out a decanter of brandy for the gentlemen.
Bertie and Teddy had been sent to bed after the lecture they’d received.
Her papa would go up with the viscountess, as he’d already been sleeping in his chair for quite some time.
Poppy did not mind it much, though. She and Mr. Lelander had a whole plan for the morrow. A whole, lovely plan.
Smuckers glared down the servants’ table.
It was bad enough to have two gentlemen above stairs occupying themselves by staring daggers and hurling insults.
Especially since their argument was the most ridiculous possible.
It was completely outrageous that he was faced with more arguing at his own table.
Mr. Meegan had seen fit to insult Mr. Smith’s efforts regarding Lord Burkhart’s knot. Or as he said, “A simple waterfall. I would not dream of dressing my employer with so little skill.”
This, very naturally, had led Mr. Smith to reply, “Of course you would not. After all, Mr. Lelander favors a more delicate look. Fussy is perhaps the best description.”
“There is nothing fussy about a barrel knot.”
“Perhaps not for Lancashire. But then, Yorkshiremen are a bit sturdier.”
Mr. Conroy, the viscount’s valet, looked most unimpressed with the both of them.
Mrs. Featherstone smiled and nodded her head as if all her disaster dreams were coming true.
Jimmy and Johnny looked fascinated and were probably already wagering between themselves about whether the two gentlemen would come to blows.
Peggy, their kitchen maid who had somehow been promoted into being Mr. Moreau’s assistant, said, “Ought you both be bickering over knots though? You’re talking about them like you was building bridges across the Thames. Everybody in the wide world can tie a knot.”
Mr. Moreau snorted over that comment. He was generally amused when Peggy aimed her taunts at anybody but himself.
Now both valets were not only offended by each other, but Peggy too. For that matter, Mr. Conroy was not looking very amiably in Peggy’s direction. No valet wished to hear that one of his skills could be done by all the world.
“Gentlemen,” Smuckers said to Mr. Meegan and Mr. Smith, “while you are residing in Chemsworth Hall I would appreciate it if you would put your arguments aside.”
“Aside?” Mr. Meegan asked, sounding incredulous. “Mr. Smuckers, I wear the red rose proudly.”
Indeed, the fellow had apparently lurked around the rose bushes at the front of the house, taking one of the last of the late blooms for himself and adding it to his lapel. It was a very late bloom too, as it was already drooping.
“I would wear the white rose far more proudly. If I were so desperate for attention as to wear a rose.”
“There are white roses in the back garden,” Jimmy said, “should you be looking for them, Mr. Smith.”
“Best get them fast,” Johnny said, “they’re the late blooms hangin’ on to the end and I can smell a frost coming. Then that will be that.”
Jimmy turned to Johnny. “I was just thinking that this morning. The air has that feel to it, that cold damp that comes before a snow.”
“I bet the frost hits tonight,” Johnny said. “Perhaps we’ll even see a dusting of snow in the morning.”
“And that’ll be it for the roses.”
“I would prefer that there be no wearing of roses at Chemsworth,” Mr. Smuckers said.
“What about a pink rose though, Mr. Smuckers?” Johnny asked. “That would be a combination of red and white and there are still a few hangin’ on in the back garden near the trellis. I could nip out there right now and clip two of them.”
“Never,” Mr. Smith said.
“I would not lower myself to compromise,” Mr. Meegan said.
“Any shade of red, including pink, is unacceptable. My very person would reject it.”
“Why should I give succor to the losing side?”
“That’s it!” Mr. Smuckers shouted. The volume of his voice startled the occupants around the table, including himself. “I am the head of the staff in this house and this is my table. I’ll have no more of these nonsensical insults flying back and forth.”
Mr. Meegan shrugged.
Mr. Smith said, “I have been given full leave from Lord Burkhart to express any sort of looks toward that person, including glares.”
“My employer, Mr. Lelander, would be shocked and let down if I did not answer any glares thrown in my direction.”
The two gentlemen proceeded to glare at one another. Smuckers sipped his wine and wondered how long the two gentlemen above stairs were planning to stay.
“Fingers crossed for frost and snow,” Johnny said.
Mrs. Featherstone snorted.
Mr. Smuckers slowly closed his eyes and took himself back to those wonderful months in Bath with his sister all those years ago. He very much felt he might be due for another visit.