“Would you like something to eat? I can organize some bread and cheese; that should tide you over till supper, which I hope will be edible. Abigail Fowler claims to have cooked for Master Garwood, who was something of a gourmet.”
“Abigail is to be our cook?” Hugo asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Yes, why?”
“It seems that Humpty Dumpty threw her over for a younger woman, whom he’s married. Abigail must not have had an easy time of it these past few months. I suppose it’s decent of him to try to find her a new place.”
“Yes, let’s pat him on the back for being such a good bloke,” I replied sarcastically. I really didn’t like the man.
Hugo just shrugged, no longer interested in Bowden. “I’d dined at Garwood’s house a few times before he died. He contributed lavishly to Monmouth’s cause. Garwood kept a fine cellar and a good table. Abigail will do nicely.”
“Was he murdered?” I asked, curious about the man’s untimely end.
“Horace Garwood was an entrepreneur who enjoyed the finer things in life,” Hugo said as he finally felt warm enough to take a seat. “He was, however, a ruthless businessman from what I’ve heard. I believe he drowned in a barrel of brandy, which could hardly have been an accident. An execution, perhaps.”
“An execution?” I gasped. “What are you talking about?”
Hugo just shrugged, as if being drowned in wine was the most common of occurrences. “At one time, drowning someone in a vat of malmsey wine was a form of execution. George Plantagenet, the 1st Duke of Clarence, was executed in that manner. I suppose someone with a sense of humor would see drowning Garwood in brandy as a just punishment for swindling them.”
“Ah, nothing can rival the justice administered in the Middle Ages,” I said sarcastically as I poured Hugo a brandy and sat across from him, ready to tackle the subject that stood between us like a two-thousand-pound elephant.
“What happened to Bradford?” I asked, knowing that whatever Hugo learned wasn’t good since he’d been back for nearly twenty minutes and hadn’t said a word about Brad.
“I don’t know. He left in October to join James’s army, and hasn’t been heard from since. James is in London plotting his escape. Her Majesty and their son are already out of the country. The army has disbursed, so unless Brad has been wounded, he should have come home by now.”
“And Gideon Warburton?” We hadn’t heard from Gideon in over a year, which was strange since he was one of the most meticulous people I’d ever met. Gideon Warburton was not a man to let a letter go unanswered, or a request go unfulfilled.
“I didn’t have an opportunity to ask after Gideon Warburton; Beth was too distraught. She’s asked me to go after Brad.” Hugo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing that I wouldn’t take this piece of news well — and he was right.
“Hugo, we have been at home for less than twenty-four hours. You can’t leave us,” I protested, knowing that it was futile.
“Neve, I have no choice. I will be back as soon as I can; I promise.”
“Hugo, things are still very uncertain. You haven’t received an official pardon, and James is technically still the king. I know that apprehending you is not anyone’s priority at the moment, but you are not entirely out of danger.”
“I know, and you are absolutely right, but I cannot abandon a friend in need. Bradford came to my aid when I needed him, as he did to yours. He placed himself in danger to help us without a second thought. How can I refuse to help him simply because the timing happens to be inconvenient?”
“Well, when you put it that way,” I replied, knowing that I’d lost this one. Hugo wouldn’t be Hugo if he didn’t follow his conscience, and even though I frequently wanted to strangle him, I respected him for his devotion to causes and people who mattered to him.
“Say you understand,” Hugo asked as he pulled me onto his lap and nuzzled my ear.
“I understand,” I replied obediently. And I did. “When will you leave?”
“Tomorrow. Archie will remain here with you.” That made me feel a little better.
Chapter 8
I gazed about the parlor with a modicum of satisfaction, noting the gleaming windows, polished floor, and dustless mantel. I’ve never been a control freak, but cleanliness was important to me, and seeing the room restored to its proper state gave me some small measure of control over my surroundings. Ruby had been up since dawn, cleaning and scrubbing, while Cook set about putting the kitchen to rights and taking an inventory of the supplies. The two women seemed eager to please me, and I thanked them for their efforts; genuinely grateful for their help. There was still much to do, but at least we were making a start. The next order of business was attacking the growing pile of laundry. I would have gladly helped Ruby on laundry day, but remembered Frances’s warning and kept quiet. The lady of the house did not launder.
I had to admit that now that we had help, I found myself feeling rather useless. The household would be running properly in no time, so it was up to me to discover what a lady did while at home. There were the children, of course, but a nursemaid would be engaged in due time to look after their daily needs while I would see to their rearing and education. In the meantime, they needed to be kept busy. Despite living in the seventeenth century, I still believed that children needed to have fun, and not remain confined indoors for fear of getting ill. Most children of noble families boasted pale complexions and fragile heath. Children needed fresh air and exercise, which was not something that was prescribed by the physicians of the day, and so did I. I’d barely left the house since we arrived.
I stepped closer to the window when I saw Archie disappearing into the shed with something resembling a door beneath his arm. What was he up to? Archie was another one who couldn’t stay cooped up for long. Frances liked to sleep in, but Archie was usually up at dawn, seeing to the horses, chopping wood, and fixing whatever he thought needed his urgent attention. He needed to keep busy, something I understood only too well. Hugo mentioned that there might be visits from tenants over the next few days, and I would have to receive them in his place. They might be coming by to welcome us home, or to bring a grievance of some sort, one they felt hadn’t been properly handled by Godfrey Bowden. But for the moment, all was quiet since it was still fairly early in the morning. The children were still asleep, so I threw on my cloak and stepped into the chilly morning, suddenly desperate for a breath of fresh air.
I crossed the yard and headed for the shed, curious to see what Archie was doing with the door. I found him hard at work, his hair tied back and his coat hanging from a nail. His sleeves were rolled up as he filed a piece of wood and regularly checked the surface for smoothness with his thumb.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I took in the heavy carved door from an old armoire lying on the work table. Archie had already attached a sturdy rectangle of wood to one side, and it stuck up from the door at a ninety-degree angle.
Archie glanced at me over his shoulder, a happy smile on his face. “I’m making a surprise for the children,” he replied, clearly expecting me to share in his delight. I would have, had I known what I was looking at. I gave Archie a guilty smile and shrugged my shoulders in ignorance.
Archie shook his head in dismay, amazed by my puzzlement, and a little hurt by the lack of enthusiasm. “It’s going to be a sled. This is the back,” Archie explained as he pointed to the piece of wood which protruded from the door, “and I am now making the sides. I’m going to attach this old leather strap, like so,” he showed me where the strap would go, “and pull them along, or let them slide down the hillock.”
“Oh, Archie, that’s genius,” I exclaimed, now embarrassed by my lack of imagination. “They’ll love it.”
“Some village lads made a sled every winter when I was a boy. We had such fun, we forgot all about the cold. We’d take turns going down the ridge or pulling each other along. We’d run faster and faster, until the boy on the sled could no longer hol
d on and tumbled off. Of course, all we needed was a flat piece of wood, but with the children being so young, they need something to keep them from sliding off,” he explained.
“I wouldn’t mind taking a ride myself,” I said wistfully, my statement greeted by a look of reproach from Archie. The wife of Lord Everly would not be seen sliding down a hill with her skirts kirtled up and her cheeks red from the cold. I lowered my eyes in embarrassment and admired the sled some more.
“How soon will it be ready?”
“Oh, by the time they finish with their breakfast, I reckon,” Archie replied, his attention already back on the wood. “I’ll need an old blanket or two to wrap them up, or they’ll catch their death.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” I replied as I turned to leave. I now understood why Jane always had her work basket nearby. She needed something to do, and sewing or embroidering gave her a sense of purpose. I wasn’t very good at sewing, and embroidery was completely beyond me, so I would have to find something to occupy the hours since I wasn’t supposed to do anything around the house. There was a fine library at Everly Manor, but as much I liked to read, I needed to be physically active.
I wonder what the official position on a woman walking alone is, I thought stubbornly as I returned to the house and heard Elena’s voice coming from upstairs.
“Mama, where are you?” The sound of her little voice instantly dispelled my displeasure, and I raced up the stairs in a most unladylike way, eager to give her a hug while she was still warm and sleepy.
The three of them were already sitting up in bed, bright-eyed and eager to get up. They were always hungry in the mornings, especially Michael, who was fidgeting in a way that suggested that he needed to use the chamber pot urgently, so I snatched him up first and thrust the pot in front of him after pulling off his clout. Valentine was already toilet-trained, but the twins still needed a nappy when they went to bed. Unlike the future, where parents could afford to hold off potty-training until the children were older, in the seventeenth century, most children were toilet-trained well before the age of two. Not only did it drastically reduce the amount of laundry, but keeping the children dry also prevented them from getting sick in cold, drafty houses and when outdoors.
“You two stay in the warm bed while I get Michael dressed,” I instructed the girls who were already hiding under the covers and giggling.
“Horse,” Michael said, looking around in desperation. “Horse,” he wailed.
“It’s right here next to your pillow, darling,” I replied soothingly. Michael held out his chubby hands for his toy while I pulled on his hose and breeches. Most boys walked around in gowns until they were breeched, but I preferred Michael not to look as if he were wearing a nightgown all day long. I helped him on with his coat to keep him from getting cold and set him down on the floor to play while I helped the girls. Little girls dressed much as older women, so it took some time in the morning to don all the layers of clothing and do up the laces. They looked like little women once they were fully dressed, especially with their hair brushed out and piled on top of their heads.
“There, all done. Ready for breakfast? I believe Archie has a wonderful surprise for you,” I said, smiling at their eager faces.
“What surprise?” Valentine demanded.
“You’ll just have to wait and see.”
I scooped up the twins and allowed Valentine to hold on to my skirt as we slowly descended the stairs and headed for the warm kitchen where the children would break their fast.
Chapter 9
Frances opened her eyes and stretched luxuriously. Cold winter sunshine filtered through the not-so-clean windows and bathed the room in golden light. The room was chilly, but it was warm and comfortable beneath the down quilt, and there was really no reason to rush. The wonderful smell of fresh bread and fried bacon wafted from downstairs, and although she wouldn’t be getting her morning chocolate in England, it was still good to be home, especially on this day. Today she turned eighteen, and it was time to take control of her life as a grown woman should.
The past two years had been the happiest she’d ever known. For the first time in her life, Frances had a loving family, a sense of safety and peace, and a man who genuinely loved her. She no longer had to deal with an indifferent father who couldn’t wait to get her off his hands; a mean-spirited brother, or a cruel husband who derived pleasure from her pain. She was free to choose for herself, and she had chosen Archie. She would have married Archie years ago, but Archie had realized something which Frances failed to see, being young and deeply traumatized by her experiences. She needed time to heal, physically and emotionally, and he had given her that time, and in his quiet way aided in the healing. Archie was like a balm for the soul, a steady and faithful presence in her life who never made any demands on her, just made her feel protected and loved. He was like a guardian angel who picked her up when she was in a free fall and never let go.
Frances had been physically unwell and emotionally unstable after leaving Paris for Rouen. She’d wanted to be a grown up, but instead she’d nearly ruined her life, first by dallying with Luke, and then by trusting Sabine to put things right. But, the wily maid had lied to her, and given her a remedy she herself had never tried. Frances still had nightmares of nearly bleeding to death while trying to self-abort Luke’s baby. No one had seen Sabine after the night she’d given Frances the oil of rue; she’d vanished into the labyrinth of Paris’s streets, never to be heard from again, fearful of what she had done. She hadn’t even remained in the house long enough to see if Frances would survive. Well, Frances learned her lesson there. She’d given her trust too easily and had paid the price.
Another man might have forsaken her after what she’d done, but not Archie. He never uttered a word of reproach, and had taken it upon himself to heal her spirit. They went for long walks, galloped through the countryside, and at times, just sat companionably side by side as Archie sharpened his dagger and Frances read her favorite book of poems. Sitting in silence was never awkward, just joyful, especially when Archie looked away from his task and smiled into her eyes, a smile that was reserved for her alone, before planting a sweet kiss on her lips.
Frances would have lain with him, but Archie wouldn’t have it. He held her when she needed it, and kissed her tenderly, but that was as far as it went. He would wait until they were married, and thanks to Hugo, their wedding had been indefinitely postponed. Well, there had been no word from Gideon Warburton, and she wasn’t willing to wait any longer. She didn’t wish for her life with Archie to be financed by the money she got from Finch. Besides, Archie would feel emasculated if his wife was wealthier than him, and she didn’t want that. Frances had learned in Rouen that she was perfectly happy when living modestly; she didn’t need a big house or servants. She just wanted a place where they could finally be alone, and start their life together in earnest. Of course, she still wanted to remain close to the Everlys. They were her family, and she would never abandon them.
Frances finally gave up the warmth of the bed and put her foot experimentally onto the freezing floorboards. She yanked it right back, but then sighed with resignation and firmly planted her feet on the floor. Her stomach was growling with hunger, so it was time to go down. Last night’s supper had been quite good, so she had high hopes for breakfast.
Frances peeked out the window as she heard shrieks coming from outside. She instantly tensed, expecting to see something unpleasant, but was greeted by the sight of the children, bundled into what looked like a three-sided wooden box, and pulled along by Archie through the snow. Archie’s face was ruddy with cold, but he was laughing, not a sight one often saw. The children were howling with laughter, their little faces alight with joy. Frances spotted Neve standing off to the side, her cheeks pink with cold. She was huddled in her cloak for warmth, and was stomping her feet on the ground, but refused to go inside. She looked a little envious, truth be told, as Archie did another circle around the yard.
&nbs
p; Frances finally tore her gaze away from the window and spotted a surprise of her own. A square box stood on the dressing table where she couldn’t fail to spot it. It hadn’t been there when she went to bed, so someone must have been in her room. Frances grabbed the box and dove back under the covers to warm her feet. She opened the box slowly, savoring the delight of receiving a birthday present, to find a pink and blue enamel box wrapped in tissue paper. The box had a golden clasp, and there was a miniature picture of two cherubs frolicking among the clouds. It was absolutely charming, and perfect for safekeeping small bits of jewelry. Frances hugged the box to herself and smiled. Archie must have bought it before they left France to have it ready for her birthday.
Frances set the box in pride of place on the dressing table, dressed as quickly as she could, wrapped a woolen shawl around her shoulders for added warmth, and made her way downstairs. She took Archie’s present as an omen that today was the day she’d make a change.
Frances was just sipping some hot broth after finishing her bread and bacon when Archie strode into the kitchen. He smelled of cold and pine, and his face was rosy from the cold. His eyes lit up when he saw bread and a bowl of drippings on the table. He stripped off his gloves and threw them aside. “I’m starving,” he growled. “Haven’t had my breakfast yet. Is there any bacon left?”
Frances buttered a slice of bread for Archie and pushed the plate toward him as he took a seat at the table. She was already finished with her breakfast, so she got up and planted a kiss on top of Archie’s head. “Thank you for my present,” she whispered in his ear.
“Do you like it?” he asked carefully. Archie never looked nervous, but Frances knew him well enough to see the need for approval in his eyes. He wanted her to like his present; it meant the world to him.
The Queen's Gambit (The Wonderland Series: Book 4) Page 5