by Darcy Burke
Diana inclined her head and watched the cook bustle off to instruct the young maid. Curious to see the kitchen garden—briefly, because it had been frosty this morning and was likely still quite cold—Diana went into the scullery. A single maid, the young Rose who’d been at the end of the line at yesterday’s introduction, was cleaning the tools she and the other scullery maid had used to gut the fish.
“You’re Rose, is that right?” Diana asked with a smile. The girl had been shy yesterday, her gaze never quite meeting Diana’s.
She flicked a glance toward Diana but kept her attention focused on her task. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“I remember you from yesterday. You said you liked to draw.” Diana had tried to learn something specific about each member of the staff, both to help her remember them more easily and because she genuinely wanted to know them as people and not just faceless servants.
“I do, ma’am.” Her cheeks flushed a charming pink.
“I can see you’re very good at your job,” Diana said, thinking it must be difficult work. She’d no idea how to gut a fish. She’d caught a few, put them in a basket, and they’d magically shown up on the table for dinner later.
“I try, ma’am. Working here is an excellent opportunity for my family. Hopefully, my younger sister will be hired on this summer.”
“I’m sure that’s a distinct possibility if there’s an opening in the scullery. Perhaps you’ll be promoted to kitchen maid,” Diana said.
Rose finished washing the last knife and put it on the drying rack, then wiped her hands on her apron. When she turned to Diana, her lips lifted into a cautious smile. “I would like that. Maybe some day, I’ll even work myself up to housekeeper like Mrs. Marley.”
“Did she start here as a scullery maid?” Diana asked, intrigued with the rapid rise of Mrs. Marley, who’d apparently gone from scullery maid to housekeeper in barely over a decade.
“When she was fifteen. The same age I am now.”
“And how long have you been here, Rose?”
“Just over two years.”
She’d started just before the prior duchess had died. “Did you meet the former duchess?”
Rose’s color faded, and her gaze dropped again. “Yes, ma’am.” Her voice was small and wispy in the dim scullery.
A sound from outside the door brought Rose’s chin up. Her dark eyes were wide. “Cook is coming.”
Diana understood. Mrs. Dodd wouldn’t appreciate Rose dawdling, especially to gossip. Although, Diana was the duchess. She would surely allow that. Even so, Diana didn’t want to cause any trouble for the girl. Offering a warm smile, she said, “I’ll let you get back to work.”
Diana turned and passed the cook as she left the scullery. “Your staff is excellent, Mrs. Dodd. You should be very proud.” She wanted to make sure the cook knew Diana was impressed.
The cook’s chest puffed up a bit. “Thank you, ma’am.”
As Diana made her way back out through the kitchen, her thoughts teemed with all she’d learned, especially about the Incident and the fact that her mind was open to the notion that he’d accidentally killed his wife. It fairly broke her heart. But did it change how she felt?
And how is that exactly, a voice in her head asked. Did she love him?
She couldn’t know. She had no experience with the emotion. Fear, however, was one she was quite well acquainted with. And when she thought of what Mrs. Dodd had told her of what Mrs. Marley had seen and of what she knew of Simon, she felt a wave of apprehension.
He’s not like your father, that voice said.
Belatedly, she recalled that she wanted to explore the kitchen garden. Perhaps the fresh air, however cold it may be, would clear her mind of troublesome thoughts.
It was a temporary reprieve, for she knew the past was bound to catch up with them.
* * *
“So the staff is functioning well?” Simon asked Nevis, who sat on the other side of his desk in his study.
The steward nodded. “I’d wondered if Lowell would be able to fulfill the duties of butler, but he’s exceeded my expectations. He’s quite intelligent. It’s a shame he wasn’t able to attend university. I think he would have acquitted himself well.”
Simon was pleased to hear this. He’d left the promotion and hiring of staff entirely to Nevis, especially after Miriam’s death. “Most excellent.”
As their meeting was drawing to a close, the older man sat forward in his chair. “How long will you be staying at Lyndhurst? I thought we might tour the estate. It’s been a while since you did so.”
It was a gentle admonishment, delivered without heat and accompanied by the hint of a supportive smile. The entire staff had treated him with kid gloves since Miriam’s death, and Nevis was no exception. It was, in this case, a tad bittersweet because he’d known Nevis for so long. There was a fatherly aspect to him that Simon couldn’t ignore.
“I was thinking so too.” Which was true, but just because he’d been thinking he should stay for longer than a few days and actually pay attention to his estate didn’t mean he planned to. However, guilt—a too familiar and painful emotion—ate at him.
“We’ll be here at least a week.” Simon regretted the words as soon as he said them, but then quietly scolded himself. He could stay here for a bloody week. Especially with Diana at his side.
“Excellent. I’ll arrange something with the tenants. They’ll be delighted to see you.”
Simon assumed they were finished, but Nevis didn’t rise. Indeed, he seemed hesitant. “Is there something else?” Simon asked.
Nevis’s forehead creased, and his gray brows angled toward the bridge of his nose. “I’m getting older,” he began, and Simon suspected where this conversation was going. “I expect I’d like to retire in the next year or two. It might be wise to bring someone on this year so that I may train them for the position.”
Simon leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath. “I should have seen this coming. Indeed, I should have talked with you about it. I’m afraid I’ve been too preoccupied with my own troubles.”
Nevis nodded sympathetically. “Which is more than understandable. I’ve known you all your life—any man would buckle under the strain. Not that you’ve buckled. Indeed, you’ve shown far more aplomb than most. Mrs. Nevis and I pray for you nightly.”
Simon appreciated the man’s kindness more than he could say. “Thank you. And please thank Mrs. Nevis. You and she must join us for dinner tomorrow so she can meet the Duchess.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you, sir.” Nevis rose and straightened his coat.
“Have you given any thought to your successor?”
Nevis cocked his head to the side. “I’ve actually considered Lowell. Though he’s not formally educated, he’s been studying math and reading about estate management. He knows Lyndhurst, and he’s certainly dedicated to you and the estate.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Simon said. Lowell was his next appointment, so perhaps he’d speak to him about it.
Nevis nodded. “Thank you, sir.” He departed the study, and Simon turned his head to look out the window at the front drive.
A moment later, Simon saw Lowell approach the threshold from the corner of his eye. He gave the butler his attention and beckoned him forward. “Come in, Lowell. Was there anything specific you wished to discuss today, or did you just want to deliver a report?”
Lowell looked down at Simon from his vast height with a somewhat tense expression. “I did have a particular matter to discuss, but I’m happy to provide a report first.”
Simon suspected it was the “particular matter” that was causing Lowell’s discomfort. It was probably best to get that out of the way. “Why don’t you sit so we can discuss your ‘particular matter.’” Simon indicated the chair Nevis had vacated.
The butler lowered himself slowly, perching on the edge of the chair as if he were afraid he might break it. Or as if he were ready to flee. “Thank you, Your Grace.” He c
leared his throat, and his shoulders twitched. “May I start by saying how glad we are to have you back at Lyndhurst and with a new bride? Her Grace is already making quite an impression.”
“A positive one, I hope.”
Lowell looked slightly alarmed. “Most definitely. The care she took to meet everyone yesterday was most appreciated.”
“She’s a singular woman,” Simon said softly. His admiration for her only continued to grow.
“It seems that marriage agrees with you.” The butler’s neck reddened. “I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t mean to speak out of turn.”
Simon shifted in his chair. Of course his staff would notice if he were happy or not. Particularly since he usually was not. This had to be quite a change. It was for him too. “You’re not out of line. Now, what’s your point of discussion?”
“Yes, of course. I mentioned marriage because I hope to enter that estate myself soon. Mrs. Marley and I would like to wed, and I humbly ask your permission to do so.”
“You want to marry the housekeeper?” Simon blinked, thinking he’d misheard. Given Lowell’s demeanor, Simon had been expecting a much more dire issue—such as someone had been caught thieving or that someone was ill. He laughed. “What a joyous occasion. Why do you seem as if you’re marching to the gallows?”
The red in Lowell’s neck crept up into his face. “I’m not sure, sir.”
“Are you certain you wish to marry?” Simon asked.
“Absolutely. I am in love with Edith—Mrs. Marley, I mean.”
Simon felt a rush of kinship with the man. He knew what it was like to be in love. In fact, he had to wonder if he was currently in the throes of that emotion. It had been scarcely an hour, maybe two, since he’d seen Diana, and he missed her something fierce. All he could think was that he was desperate to see her smile, hear her laugh, touch her softness.
Love?
“Sir?” Lowell’s hesitant query drew Simon back to their conversation.
He gave the butler a half smile. “My apologies for woolgathering. Of course you have my permission. Would you like to marry here in the chapel?”
Lowell’s eyes widened briefly. “That’s very generous of you, sir. Is that possible?”
“I’m sure I can arrange it with the vicar.”
“We are humbled by your generosity, sir.” Lowell bowed his head briefly. “Mrs. Marley will be thrilled.”
“I’m pleased to have a happy occasion to celebrate here.” It would be good for everyone. He’d talk to Diana about arranging a nice breakfast for the newlyweds. He’d also need to talk to Nevis about living arrangements for the couple. “Your chamber is out near the kitchen, is it not?” Simon asked.
“It is, sir.”
“I can’t imagine it’s large enough for you and a wife. I’ll speak with Nevis about finding new accommodation. Do you have a date for the wedding yet?”
“We don’t, sir. I wanted to secure your permission first.”
Of course. “Well, let’s not dally. See that the banns are read this Sunday, and the Duchess and I will work on the other arrangements.” Yes, this was a welcome distraction from the depression that hung over the house. He was eager to share it with Diana. He had every expectation she would ensure Lowell and Marley had a wedding they would all remember.
Lowell appeared a bit confounded. “Thank you, sir. Mrs. Marley will be overcome.”
Just as Nevis had lingered and seemed to have something else to say, Lowell behaved in the same manner. Simon folded his hands on the top of his desk. “Will you be delivering a report now, or is there another matter?”
“There is one other matter.” It didn’t seem possible, but Lowell managed to look even more uncomfortable than he had a few minutes ago. Good heavens, but the man perhaps needed to work on his confidence. Which made no sense, because from everything Simon knew, Lowell managed the household in an adept and assured manner.
“Go on,” Simon prodded gently.
“I know Mr. Nevis will retire at some point, and I wanted you to know that I’ve been studying estate management in the hope that I may qualify to replace him.”
Perhaps confidence wasn’t Lowell’s issue, but humility. It took courage to come out and ask for a position that was above your education. And it seemed Lowell knew that, hence his reticence. “Mr. Nevis told me of your aptitude and your intelligence. He seems to think you may be up to the task.”
The flush came back to Lowell’s face for a brief flash. “That’s exceedingly complimentary, sir. I do endeavor to work hard.”
“I appreciate you speaking with me about this. It demonstrates your determination and commitment. I would urge you to continue your studies.”
Lowell stood. “Thank you, sir. I will. And thank you again for the wedding. I will talk to Mrs. Marley later this evening.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “Oh bollocks—sorry. Go and speak with her now. If you aren’t beside yourself to do so, then you may want to rethink the whole thing.”
Lowell’s mouth split into a wide smile that was completely at odds with his austere demeanor. “I’ll do that, sir.” He bowed and took his leave.
Simon realized he was feeling precisely the same—he wanted to see his wife. He got up and rounded his desk just as she appeared in the doorway. He smiled, absurdly pleased to see her. She was stunning in a new day gown they’d purchased in Oxford. It was the color of fresh cream with dainty flowers of gold and crimson. A gold sash encircled her rib cage, and he suddenly wanted his hands to do the same.
“I was just coming to find you, wife.”
“Were you? I’m not interrupting, am I?” she asked, stepping over the threshold and looking around his study.
“Not at all. I just finished with Lowell, and he had the most extraordinary news.”
“He wishes to marry Mrs. Marley.”
Simon’s shoulders drooped slightly. “You already know.”
She went to the fireplace and looked at the miniatures of his parents that sat atop the mantelpiece. “Mrs. Dodd told me. She is a veritable fount of information.”
Simon followed her, wanting to increase their proximity. “Is she?”
Diana turned and just a foot or so separated them. “Yes—and don’t be angry—she told me about what happened two years ago. The ‘Incident.’”
“The ‘Incident’?” They had a fucking name for it? Fury curled in his gut. “It wasn’t an ‘Incident,’ it was a bloody tragedy.”
She winced. “Of course it was. I shouldn’t have used that word.”
“It wasn’t your word, was it? That’s what they call it?” Of course the staff talked about it. The event had been a massive scandal—one that followed him to this day and likely always would. As it should. Not because it was a scandal, but because it was a goddamn tragedy.
“Simon, I asked you not to get angry.”
He turned from her and walked to the windows facing the drive. “Forgive me if I can’t help myself.”
The room fell quiet for a few moments, during which he regained his equilibrium. He shouldn’t get angry. Servants would talk, and they meant him no harm. They’d all stayed here despite the potential damage to their reputations, hadn’t they?
Before he could apologize, Diana said, “I wanted to ask you why you allowed Mrs. Marley to stay after what she said.”
Simon turned. Diana was watching him warily but with empathy in the depths of her gaze. “What was I to do, cast out a loyal retainer for telling the truth?”
“No, but no one would blame you for not wanting her here. She’s a reminder of what happened.”
He lifted his hands and dropped them sharply to his sides. “All of it is a reminder of what happened.” He put his hand on the back of his neck, anxiously massaging the flesh as emotion raged within him. “But I can’t turn someone out because they told the truth. Especially not when they demonstrated extreme remorse. Did you know she offered to leave, out of guilt, but Nevis convinced her to stay?” Simon had learned that abo
ut a year ago.
Diana came toward him and took his hands. “Simon, if it’s too much, we can leave. Why don’t we just go to London?”
God, her understanding and compassion nearly undid him. “I told Nevis we’d stay at least a week. I haven’t toured the estate in…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how long.”
“But I can’t stand watching you tortured.”
“Why are you so forgiving?” They were all so forgiving—the staff who’d remained and demonstrated fierce loyalty, Nick who never failed to bolster his spirits, and now Diana, who stood by him even in the face of his inability to forgive himself. “Did Mrs. Dodd tell you exactly what happened, the specifics?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Tell me.” To hear Diana recite his crimes was like putting himself on the rack, but he deserved nothing less.
Diana swallowed. Her eyes were dark and unflinching. “She said you and...the duchess argued, that you grabbed her. Marley turned then and didn’t see exactly what transpired.”
Though she held his hands, he felt cold. “So you see how it happened. How it was my fault.”
“I’ve decided fault doesn’t matter. As you said, it was a tragedy. Whatever happened to cause it, the damage can’t be undone.”
His throat tightened, and he clasped her hands as if she could save him from drowning in the sea of his emotion. He would never know what he’d done to deserve her. “I will thank God every day for you.”
She smiled and let go of one of his hands to touch his cheek before pressing her lips against his. Her kiss was soft and sweet and gave him the strength to let the pain go—at least for now. “It seems we are a gift to each other, just when we needed it most.”