Chapter One #2
Will regarded his housekeeper and a ripple of concern passed through him.
Mrs Potter had run his household ever since he had inherited the title and the myriad properties that accompanied the dukedom.
She was reliable, efficient and just the right amount of nurturing.
As he watched her cough, covering her mouth with her handkerchief, desperately trying to catch her breath, he realised she was getting on in years.
‘Can I get you something? A drink, perhaps?’ He cast around the room, his eyes alighting on the teapot on the sideboard, the tea ready-brewed in anticipation of their meeting.
Mrs Potter shook her head, but he approached the tray all the same, pouring a splash of milk into the cup and then a generous amount of tea.
‘Have you been unwell?’ he asked once Mrs Potter had taken a few sips, the warm liquid seeming to soothe her throat.
‘Yes, Your Grace. I have been laid up with my chest, but I am on the mend now.’
He frowned. He had been distracted these last few months, there was no doubt about it, but he had not noticed any change in the quality of the work of the servants.
It was a credit to Mrs Potter that she had them trained well enough that even when she was not physically present everyone knew what to do to keep the household running smoothly.
‘Do you need to see a doctor? I can send for the family physician.’
Colour flooded to Mrs Potter’s cheeks at his concern.
‘You are very kind, Your Grace, but I do not think that is necessary.’
Will hesitated. He did not wish to push the matter and make his housekeeper uncomfortable, but equally he would not want her to suffer if there was something he could do to improve her health.
The offer wasn’t entirely altruistic, either.
Will was well aware that he was completely set in his ways.
He liked things done properly and did not do well with change.
He dreaded the day Mrs Potter decided to retire.
She had a daughter who had moved to Norfolk after she’d married and he knew his housekeeper planned to join this daughter at the coast one day.
The thought of the disruption to his routine when she left made him shudder.
Casting a hand over his brow, he forced himself to focus on the present. He needed to finalise his plans for next month, for a trip that already seemed self-indulgent.
‘I plan to rent a small house close to Cambridge for a few months over the summer.’
Mrs Potter’s eyebrows shot up but she did not comment on this uncharacteristic move.
Will was a creature of habit, married to his routine.
He took his ancestral duties in the House of Lords seriously, and every summer when parliament called a recess he spent two months touring all his properties, ensuring everything was in order.
To break from this and suddenly declare he was going to Cambridge for four months was extremely out of character.
For a moment he wondered if maybe he was going mad.
His sister’s death a year earlier had hit him hard.
Catherine had been his weakness. He’d indulged her terribly after their parents had died and he’d become her guardian.
Over the years she had grown into a sweet and kind young woman, ready for all the joys the world held for her, but just before she could make her debut she had been struck down most cruelly.
The doctors had said she must have been born with a weak heart, although there had been no signs of it growing up.
Like everything else, she had taken her illness and terminal decline with grace and good humour, always reassuring him that the seventeen years she had spent on this planet were enough.
This mad scheme of his, these four months of self-indulgence in Cambridge, were directly because of Catherine.
On her death bed she had made him promise that just once he would do something selfish, something just for himself.
Everything else he did, he did with a mind to furthering the family name or building the family fortune, but she wanted him to cast that aside and think of no one but himself for a while.
It was typical of his sister to have thought only of him even as her life had slipped away from her.
Catherine had always had a sweet disposition, even as a young girl, although the gap of almost ten years between them meant that until their parents had passed away he had not known her well.
In the years since he had become her guardian, they had grown close, with Will feeling a deep sense of responsibility towards his sister.
They had spent a lot of time together, with Will understanding he needed to play the role both of older brother and father figure.
Catherine had made it all feel so easy with her gentle temperament and kind heart.
Now he was determined to honour her last request, even if the idea of stepping away from his routine made him feel unsettled.
‘I do not wish for a large household. I wish to live simply, but I am not so foolish as to think I would last very long if I had to see to the household chores alongside my studies at the university.’
Mrs Potter smiled softly, ‘I could teach you how to wash your undergarments…’ she said quietly.
‘Perhaps not, Mrs Potter.’ He returned her smile. ‘I had hoped you might come with me. I know I am a difficult man to get along with, yet you always know exactly what needs to be done.’
Mrs Potter bit her lip and Will saw immediately she was going to refuse. His heart sank, not just for himself, but at the realisation that she must be very unwell indeed if she could not do this for him.
‘There is nothing I would like more, Your Grace, but alas I fear my health is not up to it.’
He looked at her then, noting the puffiness around her eyes and the lines on her face, and he realised quite how selfish he was being. Mrs Potter was growing old and he had barely noticed.
She continued quickly, before he could say anything. ‘But there is a young lady who would do a wonderful job: Amelie Somersham. She is a housemaid, but has been taking on more and more responsibility these last few months.’
Will hid a grimace, forcing a smile to his lips instead. ‘Is she capable of doing everything needed on her own? Managing the money and payments as well as making the beds?’
‘She is well-educated, Your Grace. You will not be disappointed.’
Tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair, he nodded. ‘Very well. I trust your judgement. I will speak to her.’
‘Would you like me to fetch her now?’
‘Yes. I wish everything to be arranged.’
William watched as his housekeeper walked from the room.
He could not believe he hadn’t seen how she had slowed down and he chided himself for being so wrapped up in his own world, his own grief, and not realised Mrs Potter was struggling.
No doubt the changes he dreaded would come sooner than he’d expected.