Chapter 3 Staineybank
Lance was rarely discomposed by the eccentricities of a noble household, but the reaction to his arrival was quite out of the ordinary way.
Firstly, the servants had had no notice of his coming, so they stood about wringing their hands and sucking their teeth in the most moronic fashion.
Then, when he had produced the letter from Goodenough, they had all gone into some sort of collective madness, as agitated as chickens with a fox in the coop, before abruptly scattering in different directions.
“Is this a ducal seat or a lunatic asylum?” Denny said, and Lance could not help but feel he had a point.
And then a young man, not a servant, by his dress, came tearing past them as if the house was on fire, stopping abruptly at the open front door.
“Missed him!” he cried, quite oblivious of Lance and Denny, watching in astonishment.
“Shall we send a groom after him?” said an older servant, presumably the butler.
“It would be fruitless,” the man said, gazing outwards, hands on hips. “He is gone — again.”
“Would it be impertinent to enquire who it might be who is missed?” Lance said in dulcet tones.
Without turning, the man said, in disgusted tones, “Mr Goodenough! Good enough for what, one may ask?”
“Indeed one may, if one wishes,” Lance murmured. “This is a free country, after all. One may equally well ask if everyone in this fine establishment has quite run mad. Is the Brinshire air so injurious to the mind, one wonders. Or perhaps there is some noxious substance in the waters hereabouts.”
The man turned round, amusement written across his features.
He was a slight figure, bespectacled, with light hair that was not properly brown but not quite blond, either.
“I beg your pardon, sir. You might indeed express concern at our antics, and I would not blame you in the least. You must be Mr—“ He gave an exclamation of disgust. “Now I have quite forgot your name.”
“It is Mr Chamberlain, sir,” the butler said.
“Mr Chamberlain.” He bowed respectfully. “James Hammond at your service, secretary to his grace. I must apologise for this ramshackle reception.”
“It has all been most entertaining, but sadly you could not have intercepted Goodenough, however fast you managed to run. He parted from us in Brinchester, having given instructions to the postilions.”
That brought forth another explosion of disgust.
“Setting this Goodenough person aside for the moment,” Lance said cautiously, “I understand you are not expecting me, is that correct?”
“Yes, but— Ah, here is Miss Charlotte Merrington now.” There was definite relief in his voice as a pleasant-faced young woman appeared. “Miss Merrington, here is another example of Mr Goodenough’s handiwork.”
Lance sighed. Clearly, Goodenough was not to be set aside.
One by one, other members of the household emerged from various fastnesses both above and below stairs, all to exclaim over the antics of Mr Goodenough.
Lance was tired, he was cold and stiff from long hours in the carriage, and he was both hungry and thirsty, but he was a guest in the duke’s house, so he simply sat on his own trunk in the middle of the hall, and waited for them to remember him.
A quiet voice at his shoulder made him turn, to find himself staring at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was quite small and not above thirty, and although she was expensively dressed in the latest fashion, she had not the air of nobility about her.
So it was a surprise when she said, “How do you do, Mr Chamberlain? I am the Duchess of Brinshire.”
He sprang to his feet. “Your grace! Forgive me for arriving so unexpectedly, but I do not quite know what is happening here or who this Mr Goodenough might be.”
She smiled, revealing a perfect set of pearl-like teeth.
“No one knows that, Mr Chamberlain. This is the third time that he has brought a stranger to our doors, quite unsolicited, and for no obvious reason. As you may imagine, it is quite a puzzle. But you will want to settle in, so if you would please follow me…”
“But if I am not required here, I shall leave at once.”
That brought another smile. “Your carriage has left, Mr Chamberlain, and even if it had not, we will not turn you out of doors when you have travelled some distance, I imagine, to reach us. Besides, we all want to hear what you can tell us of Mr Goodenough. Come, follow me.” She glanced at Denny, watching her intently, then at the other lady, waiting patiently for instructions.
“Charlotte, will you see to Mr Chamberlain’s man, whose name is… ?”
“Pendleton,” Lance said.
“What room for Mr Chamberlain, do you think?”
“The Spider Room is ready,” Miss Charlotte said.
“Good,” the duchess said. “Froggett, send a bath up to the Spider Room as soon as you can. Also a tray of food and a bottle of wine. Come, sir, this way.”
“The Spider Room?” he murmured, as he followed her neat person out of the hall and up broad stairs.
“You will see,” she said, with another little smile.
She showed him to a vast apartment with heavily ornate furniture, and a bed fully hung with curtains and raised on a plinth. The three large windows showed him a fine view over the gardens.
“Do you think you will be comfortable here?” she said, touchingly anxious. In his experience, noble women were not much concerned about the comfort of commoners.
“I should think even the Prince of Wales could not be dissatisfied.”
“Now there you would be wrong,” she said tartly. “That man is never satisfied. He would have the room stripped to the plaster and boards, and redecorated in some ostentatious and excessively vulgar style, at a cost of fifty thousand pounds, at least.”
Lance laughed. “So he would. But where is this spider to be found?”
For answer, she pointed up to the ceiling. Looking up, he saw an elaborate painting, possibly meant to be some classical or religious allegory, but all one could make out was a set of ominously dark clouds which together created the shape of an enormous spider.
“Ah, I see. How dreadful, and that poor maiden looks as if she is about to be ravished by the creature — or possibly eaten, it is hard to tell.”
“Oh! I had never noticed that before. How clever of you to spot it, Mr Chamberlain. Ah, here comes your luggage and your man. I shall leave you to settle in. Dinner at five precisely, and the duke likes the gentlemen to wear knee breeches.”
He bowed as she left. For a while the room, large as it was, felt crowded, as footmen and maids bustled in and out, Denny set about unpacking and Miss Charlotte Merrington stood watching the servants with a severe expression that clearly brooked no nonsense from them.
Lance could not quite work out who she was, but he did not much care.
A rather good claret had been provided, so he sprawled in a chair beside the fire, glass in hand, and assumed that all would be made clear in time.
Eventually, the bath was ready, the necessary linens had been provided and Miss Charlotte was satisfied. As the door closed behind her, Denny jumped up from where he had been crouched over one of the trunks, and snatched the wine glass from Lance’s hand, downing it in one gulp.
“Lord, that is better! That is the worst part of being a servant, you know — no decent wine.” He refilled the glass, took another mouthful and then passed it back to Lance, before hurling himself into a matching chair. “So what do you think? Quite a beauty, eh?”
“Who, Miss Charlotte?”
Denny pulled a face. “No, idiot. The duchess. I had no idea she would be so young and tasty. And the duke is an old man. She must be desperate for someone young and virile.”
“Have you forgotten I am engaged?”
“No, but I am not.”
Lance’s bark of laughter echoed around the room. “Really, Denny! The other disadvantage of being a servant is that you are quite invisible to ladies, and especially to duchesses.”
“Being invisible is also an advantage, my not so all-knowing friend. Five minutes below stairs and already I can inform you that Miss Charlotte Merrington has two sisters, also spinsters, who all see you as fair game. There is also a widow who might enjoy a little dalliance.”
“Again, you have forgotten that I am engaged.”
“If the Lady Patience Torbuck can stop you from flirting with every female in sight, then she is a veritable magician. You cannot change your essential nature, my rascally friend.”
“Nor can you change yours, which is to stir up trouble wherever you can.”
“A valet must have some amusement.”
“Well, amuse yourself by helping me out of these clothes before that bath water is quite cold, you irredeemable scoundrel.”
“Yes, sir. At once, sir. Shall I scrub your back, sir?”
Lance only laughed at him.
***
Georgie enjoyed her first glimpse of the newcomer when he entered the White Drawing Room before dinner.
He was immaculately arrayed in silk knee breeches, a complicated neckcloth arrangement secured with a gold pin and a coat that was so well-fitted, she could not imagine how he had wrestled himself into it.
He was a fine fellow indeed, although he displayed no awareness of it.
He had arrived early, but most of the household was there before him.
The duchess took charge of him, introducing him to the duke’s heir, Richard Merrington, and his wife Rowena, then to Richard’s mother and his three sisters.
Mr Chamberlain looked bemused as he bowed to each in turn.
So many young women! It was as well the youngest of them had recently married and was not at home just then, or the poor man’s brain might melt.