Chapter Eleven #2
She ascended the carpeted staircase and found the nursery door ajar.
Tilting her head, she listened to the silence for several heartbeats before she nudged it open.
The door swung on quiet hinges to reveal a bright, airy room that spanned the length of the front of the Townhouse.
Several large windows overlooked the street and filled the space with the warm glow of the early sunset, making the sky-blue walls appear even more like the open air of the country.
Along one wall were two child-sized beds covered in lovingly crafted quilts; a small lump in the middle of one indicated it was occupied.
Opposite of those was a narrow iron bedframe for the night nurse beside a draped bassinet.
The polished wood floor was covered in a thick rug woven in a pattern of warm colors.
It had likely been quite vibrant at one time, but time and use had worn it into more muted tones.
Despite the large size of the space, it felt cozy and brimming with love—far more comfortable and welcoming than what she’d seen of the rest of the house.
A masterpiece of a dollhouse sat in one corner.
A variety of dolls—porcelain, wood, and rag—toy soldiers, carved wooden blocks, and a miniature wooden horse with what appeared to be a real horsehair mane and tail were scattered around the room.
A small area for lessons had been set up near the door, with books and writing tools strewn across a small table.
Additional books had once been neatly organized on the bookcase positioned nearby, but they were now stacked haphazardly, as if small hands had wrought destruction in a moment of curiosity.
A board creaked beneath Victoria’s slipper. The nurse—Nan, was it?—looked up from her mending of the hem of a tiny pink dress. Her eyes widened, and she stood abruptly, sending the rocking chair swaying.
“My lady!” She greeted her a little breathlessly and dropped into a proper curtsey.
She must have guessed Victoria had perused the space because she instantly launched into an apology.
“The little ones only just went down for their naps, and I was about to tidy up as soon as I finished the mending.”
Victoria brushed away the woman’s anxious words.
“I am sure with three children and a skeleton staff, it must feel as if the work is never done—especially the laundering and mending.” Nan accepted her offer of a warm smile and returned it with a grateful one of her own.
“I did not mean to disrupt anything and only wished to look in on the children.”
“Of course,” Nan replied with a hopeful smile and set aside her work.
For the first time, Victoria considered what these new circumstances must be like for Rafe’s household staff.
It was evident to her that they were all doing what they could, even though a home of that size required at least double the staff she’d already seen to maintain the minimum standard of living for a peer’s residence.
She took the obvious effort and care performed in the more visible and oft-used rooms in the Townhouse as evidence that the staff were trying their best and doing what they could, but so few hands could only do so much.
Additionally, it was natural that they regarded her sudden arrival with a mixture of nervousness and optimism.
Would she view the home’s shabbiness as laziness or shortcomings on the part of the staff?
Certainly, some women might, but Victoria was not one of those women.
And she did not doubt that the staff were entirely aware of just what she brought to the marriage, even if they were not privy to the exact sum.
More funds could mean more staff, better wages, and more comfortable accommodations for all.
Servants such as Nan would have assistance and would no longer be responsible for a dozen tasks at once. Many hands would make lighter work.
Nan showed her over to the bed where the sick little girl was curled on her side, her curls a wild mess of reckless abandon.
Victoria couldn’t find it in herself to be disappointed with the cancellation of her honeymoon trip when faced with the child’s cherubic features and pouty lips.
May’s tiny chest heaved in a barking cough, and she rolled to her side.
The sound tugged at her heartstrings almost as much as recalling how distraught Rafe had been upon seeing the ill child.
A wave of tenderness threatened to eclipse her annoyance with her husband once and for all.
“And the littlest one is over here,” Nan whispered and walked Victoria over to the bassinet holding the child Victoria had yet to meet.
She didn’t expect to find a swaddled infant, impossibly tiny and frail, her coloring even less healthy than that of her ill elder sister. There was no roundness to her cheeks and only sadness in what should have been a sweet curve to her lips. A lump instantly formed in Victoria’s throat.
“How old is she?” Victoria whispered, barely able to keep herself from touching the sleeping baby to confirm she was real and not an incredibly lifelike and tragic marble carving.
“Nearly nine months,” Nan replied and adjusted the swaddling.
The answer surprised Victoria. She did not profess to know a great deal about children, but she’d have guessed the child was half that age.
“She was such a happy child until her parents passed,” the nurse continued.
“Since then, she eats very little and does not sleep well. She is still so young, but that does not mean she hasn’t felt their loss as keenly as the others—mayhap even more so, since they were all she knew.
” Tears began to burn the backs of Victoria’s eyes.
“It bothers his lordship a great deal,” Nan added softly, sadly, tearing Victoria’s attention from the sleeping child.
“Sometimes, he’ll come in in the middle of the night just to check on the babe…
the nights are particularly difficult for her. ”
The mental image that was created was unbearably heart wrenching. “And where is his little lordship?” Victoria asked, forcing the words through her tight throat as she inquired after the third and eldest of her husband’s wards.
The maid gestured to the corner near the door where Dominic sat facing the wall, hunched over on a tiny stool with his chin cupped in his hands.
Nan led her away from the sleeping girls and explained, “He is in punishment for running through the hall and breaking yet another vase after Lord Blackwood specifically warned him against running so carelessly indoors.” Nan crossed her arms beneath her ample bosom.
From her expression and the shake of her head, it was clear that this was far from the first—or even the second—time this situation had occurred.
“We’ll be out of vases by the end of the month at this rate,” she groused candidly.
Nan’s eyes widened as she remembered to whom she was speaking. “Apologies—”
Victoria offered her another reassuring smile. “I have an elder brother, and I know firsthand how destructive little boys can be. All that energy they possess is quite disproportionate to their deceptively small size, is it not?” This appeased the nurse, and the corner of her lined mouth twitched.
Victoria looked back at the sullen lad, the sight tugging at her heartstrings.
He’d been so silent that she’d entered the room and walked right past him without noticing.
Resolute, she crossed the room and bent at the waist, so their heads were closer.
The boy eyed her warily. “How long are you to remain in punishment, my lord?” she asked with all seriousness.
“Forever,” he grumbled and turned his eyes back down to the floor. Victoria tried her best not to smile at his dramatics.
“Well, how was that vase broken?”
His shoulders lifted in a brief shrug, but, when it was clear that Victoria would say nothing else until she received a verbal reply, he looked down at his shoes and gestured to them.
“These shoes. They don’t let me run well; they make me slip.
” He looked back up at her and indignantly demanded, “What good are slippery shoes?”
Victoria smiled that time despite her best efforts, but she sobered quickly and said, “Well, we will have to remedy that, won’t we?
Perhaps find you some better shoes?” Dominic’s eyes widened as if the possibility of improved footwear had never occurred to him.
“However,” she added gravely, “you will have to promise me that you will only use them to their full advantage out of doors where no vases can be threatened.” The boy sat up straighter and nodded enthusiastically.
“Now, how much longer are you truly supposed to stay here on this stool?”
The boy frowned furiously. “My evil uncle said I must stay here until supper.”
“That seems rather harsh,” Victoria replied gravely. “It was only one vase, after all.”
Dominic averted his eyes and, just as she’d hoped, he admitted, “It’s because I was told several times not to run inside…and I’ve broken three vases now. And a tea service. And maybe a few porcelain figurines.”
“Ah…” Victoria nodded with all the seriousness she could muster.
Though inexperienced with children, even she knew that she could not undermine Rafe’s authority by freeing the boy from his punishment early, but she made a mental note to speak to him about it.
Instead, she straightened and said, “I look forward to seeing you at supper, then.”
The boy frowned up at her again, his expression far more serious than what one would expect from someone his age. “Why would you eat here in the nursery with us? Won’t you eat with Uncle Rafe?”
Victoria was taken aback by his question. “Do you not take meals with your uncle?”