by Sunny Brooks
“And what can be more anonymous than a housekeeper working for a lord of the realm?” the dowager murmured, gently. “I am truly glad that you came to me for aid, my dear. Your mother was a very good friend of mine, and I am honored to be able to assist you.”
“And I can only thank you for your generosity,” Rebecca replied, quietly. “You have done more for me that I have ever hoped for. I need only wait a few more months until I am of age and can claim my fortune. Then it belongs to me regardless of whether I marry or not.”
The dowager frowned. “And do you believe that your cousin will refrain from chasing you at that time?”
It was a question that had dogged Rebecca’s mind for some time. “I must hope so,” she said, slowly. “For hope is all I have.”
Sighing to herself, the dowager looked back at her steadily for a moment. “I must hope so also, my dear. If it comes to it, however, I know that my son will do what he can to help you. I can well understand your reasons for keeping such things from him at this time, for the less who know the truth of your identity, the better, but do not push Francis from your mind entirely. He may still be able to assist you, in time.”
Rebecca, who wanted to do nothing more than get on with her work and have as little notice from the master as possible, tried to smile. “Thank you, dowager. I will, of course, remember what you have said, and I must thank you again for all you have done for me thus far. Had you not been able to offer me such help then my life might be very different from how it is at this present moment.”
The dowager nodded, smiled and rose to her feet. “Do be careful, Rebecca,” she said, softly. “I know that you have said before that your cousin is a dangerous man. Always be on your guard. Of course, I will keep watch as best I can.”
The knot of fear that Rebecca had constantly been forcing away now returned to her stomach. “I will, Lady Catesby. I thank you.”
The dowager held Rebecca’s hand for a moment, her expression a little strained. “Very good. Do come and see me next week, if you can.”
“Of course,” Rebecca replied, knowing that her weekly visits to the dowager always lifted her spirits. “I look forward to it, Lady Catesby.”
With a swift goodbye, the dowager was gone, leaving Rebecca alone with her thoughts. Despite the fact she had duties to attend to, Rebecca sat back down in her chair for a moment, her head heavy with thoughts. She did not know why Lord Catesby had thought to remove her as housekeeper and, even though the dowager had assured her that it would not happen and that she was quite safe, the matter still pierced her heart.
She sometimes felt a little guilty over her deception in the face of Lord Catesby’s apparent willingness to take her on even though she did not have a good deal of experience. Her references had been quite made up, although the dowager had taken care of those for her. But to be given that freedom had been an opportunity she could not pass up. She had been offered the chance to escape from the fears and worries of living with her brother whilst their unfortunate cousin, the Honorable Stephen Jefferson, had an extended stay with them.
She could still recall how Stephen had warned her, in no uncertain terms, that she would wed him or it would be all the worse for her brother, Mark, the newly titled Viscount Rapson. That had been the day she had known she needed to leave. Having told her brother some of the story, she had begged him not to look for her until she had come of age, telling him to rid his house of their cousin. How much he had hated letting her go, but he had seen her reasons for it. Having been as good as his word, he had not once tried to contact her, and she had received not so much as a note in the months she had been here.
Sighing heavily, she rose from her chair and made her way back towards the kitchens. There were duties to take care of and, sooner or later, she would have to speak to Lord Catesby about the menus for the week as well as another few matters. For one, they needed to hire some new maids since two had recently accepted a post with Lord Catesby’s younger brother, Henry, which now left the Catesby House short.
She hated how flustered she became whenever she spoke to him, although he had never commented on it, of course. Whether it was because he was the master of the house and her now the housekeeper, or because he unsettled her with those sharp blue eyes of his, she could not say. Her awareness of him was always there deep within her, her skin prickling whenever he was nearby. It was ridiculous to have such reactions as these to her employer, and she always fought to keep herself composed whenever she was in the same room as he.
Wondering if that was the reason for his consideration of removing her from his house, Rebecca sighed to herself as she chivvied the maids up the stairs. Perhaps it would be best simply to ask Lord Catesby outright what it was she was doing that caused him so much discontent. It would take a good deal of courage but, mayhap, that would bring an end to her wondering and an end to his dislike of her. She could only try.
Chapter 3
“Lord Catesby?”
Francis turned slowly, seeing Mrs. Harrington in the doorway. “Ah, Mrs. Harrington,” he said, in a voice that fractured for no particular reason. “Do come in. I thought to ask you about the dinner I am to host on Friday.”
She nodded and came a little further inside, standing a little uncertainly in front of the fire.
“Please,” he continued, hating that his heart was quickening all the more. “Do sit down, Mrs. Harrington. You need not stand when this will be a prolonged conversation.”
To his surprise, she paled at once, seating herself quickly. Her hands were tightly clasped together, her papers set neatly on the table beside her.
“You need not fear me, Mrs. Harrington,” he said, slowly, seating himself opposite and ensuring there was a good distance between them.
She nodded, a wane smile on her face. “Of course, my lord. I just hope that I have not displeased you in some way.”
The tremor in her voice gave him pause. Looking at her steadily, he realized that mayhap she had found out that he had been considering removing her from her post. His heart dropped to his toes, feeling a weight of guilt settle on his shoulders. Of course, she would have heard of such a thing! It was not as though this house was without rumor and gossip, despite his best attempts to quash such a thing amongst his staff.
“No, indeed, you do an excellent job as housekeeper, Mrs. Harrington,” he said, firmly. “I am sorry if you have heard anything other than that.” A slight flush made its way up his neck, and into his cheeks and he contained his embarrassment with an effort. “I know the way staff can talk, Mrs. Harrington but I can assure you that your position here is quite safe.”
She nodded, her cheeks now a little less pale. “I thank you, my lord.”
“Now,” he continued, briskly, wanting to move onto more polite conversation. “Might we discuss the menu?”
“Of course, my lord,” Mrs. Harrington murmured, her cheeks now a dusky pink. She began to talk through what the cook had suggested, which included a good number of his favorite dishes. Francis felt himself focusing less on what she said and more on how her beauty caught his attention. She was, as usual, wearing her dark gown which was perfectly pristine. Her long dark hair was tied up in a neat bun with nigh a hair out of place. She ought to be entirely nondescript, entirely unremarkable and for whatever reason, he could not stop himself from looking at her.
Her full lips brought the urge to kiss her senseless, her beautiful blue eyes filled him with longing and a slow-growing affection for the lady. It was as though he wanted to know her better, wanted to have her sit with him and discuss matters of all natures, simply so that he might know her thoughts, know her feelings, know her heart. It was ridiculous indeed, of course, and he knew he ought not to even entertain such feelings, but he was entirely unable to prevent himself from doing so. His heart was calling out for her more and more, which had been the only reason he had thought to dismiss her from his employ.
“Does that satisfy you, my lord?”
With a start,
he realized he had not been paying attention to what she had said. Flushing, he reached for the paper in her hand. “May I see it again?”
She handed it to him with an uncertain look in her eyes, her whole body jerking as their fingers brushed. Feeling suddenly alive from the briefest of touches, Francis cleared his throat again and forced his eyes down on to the paper, struggling to focus on her handwriting for a moment.
He caught his breath.
“Goodness, Mrs. Harrington, I did not realize you had such a wonderful script,” he commented, taking in the ornate handwriting. “Beautiful.”
She blushed, and he smiled at her, glad to see that she no longer appeared quite so uncertain.
“Thank you, my lord,” she murmured, dropping her gaze. “You are most kind.”
His smile lingered as he let his eyes rest on her for a moment longer before returning to the menu. “Yes, this all looks quite wonderful,” he said, finally. “Thank you, Mrs. Harrington.”
Reaching for the menu, she took it from him and rose to her feet. “Thank you, Lord Catesby. Is there anything else I can assist you with whilst I am here?”
Hesitating for a moment, Francis nodded. “Might you seat yourself once more, Mrs. Harrington?”
She did as he asked almost at once, her eyes now a little rounded with concern.
“I simply wanted to take the time to apologize to you for the rumors that have circulated about this house. The rumors came from me, I will confess, but it was only a moment of madness.”
Blushing furiously, Mrs. Harrington looked away. “You need not explain yourself to me, my lord.”
“But I wish to,” he replied, fervently. “I should never have thought such a thing. Your work here is impeccable. I have no complaints as regards to that. I wish you to know that, Mrs. Harrington.”
Finally, her eyes lifted to his and such was the warmth in her gaze that Francis felt quite lost for words. His breath caught, his body burning with a sudden awareness of just how drawn he was to her. Struggling to regain his composure, he cleared his throat harshly, rising to his feet and seeing her follow suit.
“Thank you, Mrs. Harrington. I must return to my correspondence.”
She nodded, inclined her head and retreated towards the door.
“Oh, I quite forgot,” Francis called after her, seeing her turn towards him. “For the dinner party on Friday, we are to host an old acquaintance of mine, who wrote to me only yesterday to signal his arrival to the area.”
“Of course, my lord.” Mrs. Harrington turned back towards the door, only to pause and look back at him. “Might I ask who it is, Lord Catesby? It is simply so that the place settings are in order.”
“Lord Rapson,” he replied, remembering the gentleman from the time he had spent in London. “Viscount Rapson, you understand. He has only recently gained the title and wishes to seek my advice on some matters as regards his estate.” He did not know why he was telling her this but found that, as he looked back at her, she was staring at him with a mixture of horror and fear in her expression. He started towards her, suddenly worried that she was about to collapse, only for her to start, straighten herself and incline her head once more.
“Thank you, my lord,” she whispered, her chin trembling slightly as she held onto the door handle with one hand, as though using it to steady herself. “I will ensure that the place is set for him.”
Frowning, Francis took a step towards her. “Are you quite all right, Mrs. Harrington? Is something the matter?”
Her smile was tight. “I am quite all right, my lord, I thank you. I just felt a little weak for a moment, but I am quite sure a drink of water will set me to rights. Do excuse me.”
She bobbed a quick curtsy and stepped from the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Francis looked at the closed door for some time, his brows furrowing all the more as he considered Mrs. Harrington’s strange reaction. Was she unwell? Or was it the mention of Lord Rapson’s name that had her behaving so strangely? A sudden, protective urge rose up within him. He felt the strange need to ensure that Mrs. Harrington was kept quite safe from Lord Rapson, even though he knew that the gentleman was well respected and kind.
He had known him before he had gained his title but had never been blessed to meet the rest of the gentleman’s family, nor even his father who must have passed away given that he was now Viscount Rapson. His year of mourning must have come to a close were he to be travelling to London and, despite Mrs. Harrington’s rather strange reaction to this news, he was quite looking forward to seeing his acquaintance again.
“Why do you consider what it is Mrs. Harrington thinks of it all, anyway?” he muttered to himself, shoving one hand through his brown hair and disordering it completely. “You must stop thinking of her!”
His stern talking to did nothing whatsoever to relieve his considerations of the lady. Instead, for the rest of the day, Francis discovered that, no matter what he did, he could not remove the lady from his thoughts, growing all the more angry with himself at his continued inability to forget her.
Chapter 4
The rest of the week dragged slowly. Rebecca found no time to go to the dowager’s home in order to tell her this new development that had taken her completely by surprise and, therefore, found herself growing more and more anxious with each day that passed. Her brother had known where she was coming to and had sworn not to say a word to another living soul. He had promised not to so much as write even the shortest of notes, but now here he was, apparently ready to call on Lord Catesby and take dinner with him.
Not only that, but since that information had been told to her, she had now discovered that Lord Catesby had offered her brother an extended stay in Catesby house and that her brother had accepted. She could not understand why Mark was to come to Lord Catesby’s home now. Why had he suddenly decided to come to the one place where she was meant to be staying hidden. The speculation brought her a good deal of anxiety.
He was not coming to speak to her directly, of course, which was her first reason for concern. She was to remain in her role as housekeeper whilst he was here as Lord Catesby’s guest. Why was he still making sure to keep her secret whilst still coming to reside at Lord Catesby’s estate?
On top of all of this, she had been keenly aware of just how truly apologetic Lord Catesby had been when he had explained to her she would not be sent away. Even though she knew that it was certainly more than a simple rumor, even though she knew that there was a good deal of truth in the idea that he wanted to remove her from her position for whatever reason, she accepted his apology and the promise that such a thing would not happen. Yet, she was still entirely unsettled. She did not know what to think and struggled to focus entirely on what she was doing. The dinner on Friday consisted simply of the dowager, Mr. Henry Catesby and his wife – Henry being Lord Catesby’s brother - and now, her own brother, Viscount Rapson.
Rubbing her eyes, Rebecca tried to focus on what she was doing. Even though she had been in Lord Catesby’s presence many times, she had still forgotten to speak to him about the matter of the maids. They needed to hire two more and whilst the butler was more than happy to secure those they would need, Rebecca still required Lord Catesby’s approval. Why she had not yet been able to ask him was quite beyond her. Perhaps it was because she had so much on her mind as regarded her brother that she simply didn’t recall.
Quietly entering the library - Lord Catesby’s usual haunt come this time of the evening, she rapped quietly on the door but heard no response. Pushing the door open further, she stepped inside but saw no-one. Setting her candle down, she saw that the fire was burning brightly and let the heat wrap around her for a moment, chasing away the dark thoughts she had let spill all through her. The maids had not yet managed to tidy the library, however, since there appeared to be papers everywhere, with a few books stacked haphazardly here and there. She sighed to herself and began to tidy the room, knowing that it was not the maid’s fault that such things had been forgotte
n, not when they were short of staff.
“I did not think such things were your remit, Mrs. Harrington.”
An astonished cry fell from her mouth, and she turned on her heel, her heart hammering painfully.
“Oh, Lord Catesby,” she breathed, trying to catch her breath. “I must apologize, my lord. I did not see you come in. I will remove myself at once.”
He held up one hand, stopping her exit. “Continue with what you were doing, Mrs. Harrington. I will not prevent you.”
She saw the easy smile on his face, took in the way his eyes almost glittered in the shadowy light and felt her stomach swirl with a sudden warmth. Her face flushed darkly as she turned her head away, astonished at her own reaction to him. He appeared a little less formal than before, looking at her in such a way that brought with it a shiver of awareness.
You are the housekeeper, she reminded herself, quickly stacking the books one on top of the other before picking them up from the bottom. You cannot act as though you are a lady of society.
“Careful, there,” Lord Catesby said, his words a little slow, seeming to stretch out across the room. “Here, let me help you. I insist.”
She realized then that he had been drinking, given the smell of alcohol on his breath and the way he attempted to help her but, instead, managed to knock into her and push the stack of books from her hands. Closing her eyes, she drew in a long breath and felt herself a little frustrated. For a moment, she had allowed herself to become affected by Lord Catesby’s presence, seeing him as a little more relaxed than usual – and now it became apparent as to why that change had occurred. He was in his cups.
“Goodness,” Lord Catesby muttered, looking at the books on the floor. “I am something of a fool. Here, Mrs. Harrington, allow me to help you.”