Jonathan felt a guffaw escape his lips, and his mother swatted him with her reticule.
“Then,” Julia continued dramatically in a very low voice, “there was Mrs. Brown.”
“Oh, no, let us not speak of Mrs. Brown!” His mother laughed. “Fine, Julia, your point is well taken. But this cook, I feel, will be different. You’ll see.”
The carriage lurched to the side, and Jonathan peered out of the window to discern the cause. The moon had just come out from behind a cloud, illuminating a rather bedraggled woman on the side of the road. Their gazes met for just a moment, and a frisson of something indefinable crawled up his spine. The carriage sped past, and the contact was broken.
“What was it, Jonathan?” his mother asked.
“A woman, walking along the side of the road.” He gazed out the window, craning his neck to try to get another glimpse.
“Did she seem in distress?” Julia asked.
He blinked, the spell broken. “No!”
Julia was always helping creatures in distress, from birds with broken wings to children of tenants, and everyone in between. If she thought the woman needed assistance, the carriage would be halted and a soggy, even if intriguing, stranger would be joining them in an instant.
“She was wet but did not seem distressed.”
“Where do you suppose she was going? Had you ever seen her before?” He could feel Julia’s suspicious gaze on his face.
“How should I know, Julia? And, no, I had never seen her before.”
“Hmmph. We should have stopped to inquire if she needed help.”
Lady Longley recovered the cautious side of her nature she had jettisoned when she hired their new cook. “Julia, we have no idea who that person was. She could have been a highwayman!”
Julia snorted again. “Highwaymen don’t look like wet women alone on the side of the road, Mother.” Nevertheless, she settled back into her seat with an audible thump, clearly abandoning the attempt to be altruistic in the face of such opposition.
Jonathan welcomed the silence, as he wanted to reflect for a moment on that bedraggled creature. In that brief moment, he had seen her dark hair clinging limply to her head and halfway down her back. Perhaps it was accentuated by the moonlight, but her face had been unnaturally pale, almost ghostly. Her skirts had seemed plain and hung loosely on her too-thin frame. Outwardly there was nothing about her that should have appealed to him, but there was something in the way she carried herself that struck him. And her eyes! He hadn’t been able to discern the color, but they were striking. Sad, but curiously strong.
What on earth could she be doing out here, in the rain? The only residence along this road was Longley Hall. Before he could explore the implications of this realization or consider his sudden urge to go back for her, the carriage stopped, and they were home.
Chapter Five
Theodora began to despair that she would ever find Longley Hall. She was wet all the way through. Her skirt had started to absorb water like a sponge. She was certain she had gained at least ten pounds. She wanted to cry, but she was too cold.
Finally, she caught a glimpse of a house. A rather magnificent one too, it appeared, although it was a bit too dark to tell. Light flickered welcomingly from the many windows on its Georgian façade. From the directions Mrs. Barnes had provided, and the fact that she had not seen another house nearly as grand, she assumed this must be Longley Hall. If not, perhaps she could at least find shelter for the night. Deciding she had nothing to lose, she walked up the long drive, flanked by very tall trees that mercifully blocked some of the wind. She was tempted to walk up to the majestic front door which loomed before her, but a cook would never do such a thing. Instead, she walked toward the left, hoping she would not need to go all the way around the huge house before she found the servants’ entrance.
As she wound around the building on the gravel drive, she saw the carriage she had encountered on the road. Wonderful. The house was inhabited by a family that would leave a woman alone on the road during a monsoon. She sighed. She was beginning to think this had been a remarkably stupid notion. Then again, she thought as she sneezed, perhaps she would soon die of pneumonia.
A young man came out of the house through a door just in front of her, dressed in livery, an umbrella over his head. He stopped short when he nearly ran into her. His surprised gaze traveled from her sodden top to soggy toe and back up again. “Can I help you, miss?”
Theodora attempted to look her most imposing, which was rather hard with water dripping off her nose. “Is this Longley Hall? I am Mrs. Milsom. Your new cook.”
The man leaned back a bit, one corner of his mouth twitching in what Theodora assumed was amusement. “You’re the cook? Why did you not tell us you were comin’? You walked all the way from the station in this weather?”
“I had to leave London in haste, and there was no time to write. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, please may I come in?”
He considered for a moment as Theodora got ever wetter. Her desire to get dry was now at odds with her desire to turn tail and run, and she wasn’t entirely sure which would win out.
Finally the man shrugged. “You don’t look like any cook I ever saw, but come in. Mr. Fairfax will know what to do with you, I expect.”
The man turned and led her toward the door. It opened into a mud room, with boots lined along the wall, a range of coats hanging on wooden pegs. Rain streamed off her clothing and her hair, forming a river that headed for a drain in the floor.
“Stay here, miss. I’ll fetch the butler.” He hesitated before he left her alone, as if he thought she was likely to steal the silver.
A moment later, an older man and woman entered the room. After looking her up and down, the man wrinkled his nose. “You say you are Mrs. Milsom?”
“Yes, sir. Mrs. Matilda Milsom.”
“We understood from the letter her ladyship received yesterday that you were to start in a fortnight, and would send word of your arrival.” His lips pursed in disapproval.
“I do apologize, sir. I know it was most unseemly of me to arrive without notice. When I informed my employer of my new position, I was thrown out of the house, not given time to gather more than this small parcel, let alone send word to you. I had only the money her ladyship sent me for the train. I was not sure what to do.” Theodora marveled at the ease with which the lies flowed off her tongue. Admittedly, the last part was certainly true, but somehow that did not make her feel any better.
The woman clucked sympathetically and elbowed the butler aside. “You poor dear. I can only imagine what you must have been through, thrown out of doors and forced to travel all this way!” She sniffed at the butler. “Mr. Fairfax, please ask Rossie to get Mrs. Milsom’s room ready.” Mr. Fairfax raised a bushy gray eyebrow but left the room.
“Now then, let’s get you dried off. I suspect you are hungry as well as wet?”
Theodora nodded, guilt rendering her unable to meet the kind woman’s gaze.
“Very good, we’ll get you some soup while your room is prepared, and warm you up. Come with me, dear.”
The woman bustled Theodora out of the room and into the kitchen. Finally, Theodora thought, a place where she felt comfortable. The room was warm and smelled of fresh bread. She inhaled deeply.
“Take off your wrap, and we’ll put it over here by the fire. Sit, sit.” The woman fussed over Theodora, removing her sodden wrap. A girl ran into the room, dressed in a kitchen maid’s uniform.
“Mrs. Appleton…Oi, sorry, ma’am. Didn’t know as you had company.” The girl started to back out of the room but was stopped by a look from Mrs. Appleton.
“Bess, how many times do I need to tell you not to run in the house? This is Mrs. Milsom. The new cook,” said Mrs. Appleton, whom Theodora finally deduced was the housekeeper.
“Oh, wonderful!” Bess blurted, then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, Mrs. Appleton, you do a fine job, of course.”
Mrs. Appleton failed to hid
e a wry smile. “Thank you, Bess. If you would get a cup of tea for Mrs. Milsom and some soup and bread, I think she would be grateful.”
“Yes, of course, Mrs. Appleton.” Bess’ eyes narrowed as she gazed at Theodora through her eyelashes.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Bess,” Theodora said quietly. “I would be very grateful indeed for some tea and soup.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bess headed for the kitchener, where a kettle had just begun to boil.
Theodora had not worked in the kitchen with anyone before, save the cook they had at home before she married Lucien. Before her parents died, before everything changed. She shook her head to clear it of the memories, and a strand of wet hair clung to her face, reminding her of how she must look.
“I’m sorry...Mrs. Appleton, is it?” she asked politely.
“Yes, dear?”
“Is there somewhere I might tidy up just a bit? I am sure I must look a fright.” She put her hand to her hair and attempted to place the dripping mass atop her head with very little success.
“Of course, dear, of course.” She turned to Bess and gave her some instructions Theodora couldn’t hear and led Theodora up the back stairs. “I’ll take you to your room; it just required a bit of dusting so I am sure Rossie is nearly finished. Do you have a change of clothing?”
Theodora felt inadequate, not for the first time that day. “I do, but I fear they are just as wet as the rest of me.”
Mrs. Appleton stopped and turned to look her over. Her eyes lingered on Theodora’s chest. “Hmm. Miss Dove is about your size, although her dresses would not fit you at all around the bosom. She’s not really the sharing sort, anyway. Just between us, dear, she’s a bit…” Mrs. Appleton seemed to think a moment, then shrugged. “Never mind, you’ll see soon enough. You and I are of a size as well. They’ll do for now, though, until we can wash your own things.”
Theodora blinked as the housekeeper turned and resumed her walk up the stairs. The woman was at least two inches taller than Theodora and a stone heavier.
Theodora rushed up the stairs to follow Mrs. Appleton, nearly running into her as she stopped and unlocked a door at the top of the stairs.
“I am very grateful to you,” Theodora said, slightly out of breath. “I am sure my unexpected arrival must be very inconvenient for everyone, especially given the lateness of the hour.”
Mrs. Appleton clucked. “Not to worry, dear. If you were going to appear unexpectedly, tonight was a very good night to do it. Well, except for the rain, of course.” She smiled, and Theodora could not help but smile back.
Mrs. Appleton continued, “The family ate elsewhere this evening. Her ladyship and the children visited with a neighbor; they returned not long before you arrived. I couldn’t tell you where his lordship was, but he tends to go down to the pub when her ladyship is away for the evening. He told me once that he enjoys being with his tenants on occasion, but if you ask me, they were all just trying to escape my cooking.” She winked.
“Oh, surely not!” Theodora’s eyes widened.
Mrs. Appleton laughed. “Oh, dear, you’ll soon see. My cooking is terrible. If you can cook anything without oversalting or burning it—and you stay out of the sherry, of course—you’ll have a place here for life.”
Theodora recalled Lady Longley’s note and was somewhat taken aback at the housekeeper’s frank assessment of her own worth in the kitchen. She was not entirely sure what to say in response, but fortunately she was spared by their arrival at her room. Mrs. Appleton opened the door, and they found a maid just finishing up.
“All done, Mrs. Appleton, ma’am.” The girl gave Theodora a shy glance. “Are you the new cook, then?”
“Yes, I am. My name is Mrs. Milsom.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Me name is Rossie, Rossie Cromwell.”
Theodora smiled. Rossie had a kind and open face, and was instantly likeable. She was rather plump, too, so Theodora suspected a good cook was of some importance to her. She heard a small cough behind her, and Rossie nodded a goodbye and fled the room. A stern taskmistress, Mrs. Appleton, but she did not seem to engender fear in her staff. Already she was better off, Theodora thought.
****
A short time later, Theodora was garbed in a dress belonging to Mrs. Appleton. As she had predicted, it was roomy. Before she had gone back downstairs, the housekeeper had given Theodora a belt to hitch up the skirt so it didn’t drag on the floor, but even so she looked utterly ridiculous. At least she was warm and dry.
Everything in her bag, however, was wet through, including the letters and her copy of Modern Cookery. Her clothing had been whisked away by Mrs. Appleton and was being laundered, but Theodora set the rest of her meager belongings on top of the bureau to dry.
She stole a glance at herself in the mirror. She had managed to comb through her hair and had pinned it up. It was a severe look, dark hair pulled away from a face so pale and drawn she looked otherworldly. Or perhaps just underfed. No one who saw her now would ever guess she was a baron’s daughter, married to a prominent lawyer in London.
She thought of Lucien. She assumed he had escaped the fire, if only because Lucien would never allow himself to die in such an undignified fashion. She tried to find compassion within her for the man who had shared her bed for six years, but any feeling she had for him had died a long time before. She hoped he would believe she was dead, but she would carry a nagging fear of discovery with her, possibly for the rest of her days.
It was an unnerving way to start a new life.
But start it she would. Tucking one last damp strand of hair behind her ear, she left the room and ventured downstairs. She walked toward the kitchen with some trepidation. The members of the staff she had met thus far were perfectly pleasant, but there would be more people in a house of this size. She was nervous; she had had such limited social interaction in recent years. But perhaps, she thought as she reached the end of the corridor, that was a good thing. It was easier to pretend to be someone else when she no longer knew who she was.
Chapter Six
Somehow she made it to the kitchen without taking more than one wrong turn. The room was now crowded with people, and all conversation stopped when she appeared in the doorway.
“Um, hello,” she croaked.
Everyone stared.
She fingered her over-large skirts and wanted to sink through the floor.
She was rescued by Mrs. Appleton, who quickly came to her side and patted her shoulder reassuringly. “This is Mrs. Milsom,” the housekeeper announced. “She has had a traumatic day, and I would like all of you to make her feel welcome.” There was a chorus of mumbles from the assembled group.
Mrs. Appleton proceeded to introduce the rest of the staff. Mr. Fairfax, Rossie, and Bess she had already met. She knew instantly she would not like Miss Dove, her ladyship’s maid, a buxom blonde who sniffed haughtily and stuck her button nose in the air. Mr. Derrick was his lordship’s valet. He was starkly handsome, and his cold, dark eyes reminded her so of Lucien that she barely suppressed a shudder when he looked her over. There were also two footmen, a handsome set of identical twins about twenty years of age. One of them had been the first person she encountered when she arrived, but she had no hope of remembering which was Jesse and which was Jimmy. The other lady’s maid was Florrie, a thin, pretty girl with bright red hair and a sweet Irish lilt in her speech. Lastly were the kitchen staff: Bess, the girl who had made her tea, and a tiny thing named Millie, who could not be much more than fifteen.
Mrs. Appleton escorted her to a chair at the large table in the room, which was apparently where the staff ate. Most of them stood around her rather than sitting, which made her feel even smaller. But then she smelled the soup in front of her, and it was so heavenly she forgot everything else. Remembering Mrs. Appleton’s own confession about her culinary abilities, Theodora took a cautious sip, but the soup was delicious, full of chicken and vegetables in a rich, brown stock. She ate several more spoonfuls befo
re she realized everyone was still looking at her. She could not tell whether they thought her rude or if they were afraid she wouldn’t like it. She gently set her spoon down and folded her hands demurely in her lap.
Mrs. Appleton sat in the chair opposite, a frown creasing her delicate features. “Don’t you like the soup, dear?”
“Oh no, it’s wonderful. Did you make it?” Theodora heard a masculine snort from behind her, which she assumed came from Mr. Derrick. He was quickly silenced by one of those looks from Mrs. Appleton. Theodora was grateful the woman seemed to like her, or her welcome might have gone very differently indeed.
“I made it, ma’am!” said a squeaky voice to her right.
Theodora smiled and turned to Millie. “It’s very good.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” She blushed to the roots of her hair.
“Forgive me; I’m terrible with names. What is yours?” Theodora asked.
Millie flushed. “Millie, ma’am. The scullery maid, ma’am. Bess is the kitchen maid.” Millie pointed at Bess, who gave a shallow curtsey but remained unsmiling.
Theodora nodded to Bess. “I see. Well, perhaps you would like to sit, both of you, and tell me about the kitchen here at Longley Hall?”
Bess and Millie both turned expectantly to Mrs. Appleton, apparently requesting permission. Theodora hoped she hadn’t spoken out of turn since great houses were quite hierarchical. Kitchen and scullery maids were usually within the purview of the cook. The housekeeper managed the housemaids and the ladies’ maids, and the butler the male members of the staff. She had not seen anything thus far at Longley Hall to make her believe it was different here, but she also knew that things had been rather topsy turvy in the kitchen for a while. She glanced at Mrs. Appleton, who nodded at both girls, and then smiled approvingly at Theodora.
Mrs. Appleton left them to their conversation and shooed the rest of the staff out of the room.
“So, Millie, Bess,” Theodora began. “How long have you been at Longley Hall?”
Millie, clearly the more loquacious of the two, began her tale first. Theodora learned very quickly that Millie was sixteen, from Yorkshire, and had gone into service only a couple of years before. Her father and six of her nine brothers had been killed in a mining accident, and as soon as she was old enough, she had left home to work so she could send money to her mother to help feed her three younger brothers.
Stirring Up the Viscount Page 3