Secrets in Mourning

by Janelle Daniels

  His jaw clenched. “So, that’s what happened.”

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “Not to me. I won’t tolerate that behavior in my home.”

  “You can’t just go up to her and tell her to stop. It will only make her upset that you know about it and it will continue on even worse than before.”

  “Of course I can. She wouldn’t dare go against what I have to say.”

  She was silent for a moment, her eyes searching his face. “Why do you even care? I know you hate me.”

  Her words were like a punch to his gut. She really did think he hated her. She couldn’t be further from the truth. While there were aspects of her character that make an attachment between them impossible, her callousness wasn’t enough to stop his desire for her. “I don’t hate you,” he said softly.

  “But you don’t like me either.”

  He wanted to quickly deny her words, but he couldn’t. What would he say? Yes, I like you? Impossible. While he didn’t hate her, he couldn’t abide her selfish behavior, couldn’t tolerate her superior attitude where no one else mattered.

  Just like his father.

  He cursed the thought as it jumped into his mind. He knew his father’s failings, his selfishness, his infidelity, but it wasn’t right to apply those weaknesses to her.

  She laughed bitterly again and moved out of his way. “Your silence says it all. What is it about me that you can’t stand?”

  “I feel no such thing.”

  “Of course you do. It’s written all over your face. Have I offended you with my, what did you call it?” She paused dramatically, tapping her chin. “Ah, yes. My bitter disposition.” She moved around him toward the door before turning dramatically, her skirt swirling around her legs like a black cloud. “Well, I have no wish to disrupt your peace a moment longer, my lord. I’ll go off the kitchens and kick a scullery maid.”

  She waited for his response, which surprised him. He had expected her to turn around in her righteous indignation and flee the room without a response. But instead she stood there, holding her ground, challenging him with her eyes and her body.

  A lusciously curved body. He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing down the length of her. Rigid shoulders forced her soft chest out, beckoning him to touch her. His gaze moved back to her face and he saw that her eyes were wide with understanding. She knew he desired her.

  “Perhaps running the house isn’t all you wish me to do,” she whispered softly, moving closer to him with measured steps. Her hips swayed with the movement, causing the wispy black satin to hug her delicious curves. Stopping in front of him, she didn’t touch, but merely looked into his eyes, her lips opening in invitation.

  He knew she was playing with him. Knew she was taunting him. But, damn it, it was working. He could almost feel her lips, her sweet breath mingling with his, her lush body pressed intimately against his own. The thought was so powerful, he clenched his hands into fists to keep from touching her. She knew the power she held.

  This was a struggle. A struggle of wills. She thought she could handle him, catch him off guard. But she was sorely mistaken. He had learned from the master. His father. The womanizing, liar and cheat had taken his family through trials of sorrow that Victoria couldn’t possibly understand. She was used to getting her way, used to bending the wills of men to her own by using her body as a weapon.

  Forcing a smirk to his face, he glanced carelessly down her body, only lifting an eyebrow when he was finished with his quick perusal. “Are you offering something more? Because I have to tell you, there isn’t anything else I can think of now.”

  Hot color mottled her cheeks before he saw her hand fly backwards, preparing to slap him. In mid-swing, he caught her hand, quickly yanking it behind her, forcing her body into his. Their breaths mingled. Struggling against him, she finally gave up, puffing out fits of air.

  When she stilled, his eyebrows lowered over his eyes. “Don’t ever try to hit me again,” his voice was deadly calm. His words were delivered in almost a whisper. No threats were needed.

  Eyeing him warily, she finally lowered her eyes in submission. “I should get back to the party.”

  He released her arm, freeing her to step away from him. Turning quickly, she made to leave the room, only glancing over her shoulder once.

  He should see it as a victory, but he wasn’t quite sure who the victor was.

  He had taunted her, and he didn’t feel better for it.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned from the doorway to stare into the greedy fire. She had been hurt more than he had initially realized.

  Knowing his mother, he could easily see what had happened, but he was even more surprised that it had bothered Lady Victoria so much. With her reputation for ruthlessness and her behavior when arriving to his estate, it was a surprise that cutting remarks could hurt her.

  While he thought it was a good lesson for her to learn, he didn’t want to see her hurt. For some reason her tears had worked magic on him.

  He could never see someone hurting without trying to offer aid.

  Leaving the house to go help with planting, he didn’t return until late that evening. Candles were lit around the house, causing a soft glow to bounce off the walls. The light, waxy smell was homey, warm, and made him want to find one of the oversized chairs in the library and sink in with a brandy.

  But he had to see to something first.

  Making his way up the staircase, he moved quickly along the hallways to the family rooms. His mother would have retired for the night, but she wouldn’t be sleeping.

  Knocking on the door, he wasn’t surprised when his mother called out sourly, “I told you I didn’t need anything else, Molly.”

  Cracking the door open, he took only one step into the dim room. “As you can see, I’m not Molly.”

  “Oh, well, come in then.” In a stark white nightgown, her robe firmly belted around the material, encasing every ounce of flesh up to her neck, she looked like a ghost. Her complexion looked more gray against the pure white, the lines of displeasure around her mouth were more pronounced. “There’s something you need?”

  After he walked a few more steps into the room, he waved away her gesture for him to sit. “I’ll be brief.” His eyes were direct on her, his shoulders ridged. This would be his least favorite task that day. He would easily sweat and bleed in the fields over confronting his mother any day. “I want you to stop bullying Lady Victoria.”

  His mother’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t know what you’re speaking of.”

  “Don’t play me for a fool, mother. I know you.”

  She shrugged. “I’m sure whatever she told you was an exaggeration.”

  “She didn’t tell me anything.” He gritted his teeth.

  “Then why would you accuse me of such a thing?” Her eyes were wide with feigned innocence.

  “Stop the act. I know you’ve made her life a living hell, but that ends now. Don’t act like you haven’t done anything when I know for a fact that you have.”

  Her brow raised in answer.

  “Was the luncheon just a ruse so you and your friends could make sport of her?” He wanted to curse when his mother’s cheeks tinged a light shade of pink. “Unbelievable. I can’t believe my own mother would stoop to that level,” he said, disgust evident in his voice.

  The light pink turned mottled. “I don’t believe it is any of your business, Connor. She is here to help me though mourning.”

  “You’re right. She is here to help comfort you, but she isn’t here to be your slave. She isn’t here to be a target for your spitefulness.”

  “Why do you care anyway? What is she to you? I know you can’t stand her either.” His mother laughed heartlessly. “You can’t truly desire her?”

  “That is none of your business,” he grated out.

  “My God. You really do want her.”

  “Whether or not I do, that is none of your concern. I’m here to tell you that your il
l treatment of her needs to end now.”

  He felt her eyeing him slowly, looking for a sign of weakness. She wouldn’t find one. Any weakness he had shown in his life had been beaten out of him. He knew he looked impassive.

  “If you insist,” his mother finally said, sniffing after her acceptance. “I’ll make sure not to torment the girl.”

  She said what he wanted to hear, but the gleam in her eyes let him know she wasn’t finished with Lady Victoria.

  “See that you do.”

  Chapter 8

  Since the luncheon a week ago, Victoria treaded lightly around the Countess. She didn’t know what had affected the old woman’s mood, but Victoria was waiting for the woman to lose her calm facade.

  Usually biting in her requests, requiring work from her that wasn’t her job, the Countess had been surprisingly quiet. It was only a matter of time until she reverted. No one could change that quickly.

  The house was settling into a better rhythm regardless of the understaffing, but Victoria wasn’t kidding herself. She looked forward to the hiring fair with relief.

  If only the Earl hadn’t sent her a letter earlier in the week informing her of an overnight guest he was expecting, she might have been able to relax. She didn’t know how the changes she had made in staffing would be affected with a guest in residence.

  Regardless of the visitor, today was laundry day, always the most strenuous of them all. On top of their regular chores, the servants were required to strip all the linens and clean them, making sure to dry them properly before remaking the beds.

  “Your Grace,” Molly said, rushing toward her, only slightly out of breath.

  “Yes, Molly? Is everything all right?”

  The maid nodded. “I am fine, my lady. But I have just come to tell you that Elizabeth has taken ill. She thinks she had a bad piece of meat and nothing will stay in her stomach.”

  “Has a doctor been summoned?”

  “Yes, he has seen her already and said she should be able to resume her duties tomorrow, perhaps the day after that once it clears though her body.”

  “I see.”

  Molly’s eyebrows wrinkled as she frowned thoughtfully. “What are we to do, Your Grace? I need the extra help with the laundry. I can’t do it on my own.”

  “I understand. And there’s no way to delay it?” Victoria asked herself aloud, but quickly shook her head. “Of course not. We have the Earl’s visitor to consider. We must proceed with it today.”

  “But, Your Grace—”

  “Do not trouble yourself over it, Molly. I will make sure you have the help you need.”

  Taking a deep breath, the maid nodded, but her eyebrows still hovered over her eyes in concern.

  “Why don’t you get the supplies ready and I’ll see who I can find to assist you.”

  “All right then.” With a quick curtsy, the small woman left.

  Though they were tight on help, Victoria was sure that she would be able to find someone to squeeze into that duty.

  Twenty minutes later, her shoulders sagged in defeat. Not one person was available to help. It was unbelievable really, but going over their duties with each of them, Victoria conceded defeat.

  What were her options now? She could cancel the laundry day, which was out of the question. The Earl’s guest could not be allowed to sleep in a dusty room. Another option was to find someone else, perhaps someone she had overlooked, but there really was no one else she could think of. Molly wouldn’t be able to manage on her own.

  There was only one option left to her, and Victoria didn’t look on it with excitement, more with resignation.

  “Were you able to find someone, Your Grace?” Molly looked over Victoria’s should expectantly.

  “Unfortunately, no one was available to help you, except one.” Victoria almost sighed at the maid’s confusion. “Me,” she clarified.

  “You?” Molly’s eyes widened as her mouth fell open. “No. You couldn’t. It’s very strenuous work.”

  “I am aware of that,” she said dryly. “I do not like this any more than you do, but we are all out of options. Everyone is busy and this cannot be delayed.” The maid swallowed and looked toward Victoria’s hands. “If you show me how I can help you, we will get this done as soon as possible.”

  There really was no way the maid could argue with her. While the linens did need to be cleaned, Victoria had been put in charge of the household and had the final say in such matters.

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I am.”

  “All right, then.” Pointing at a tub full of steaming water, a washboard leaning against the side, she continued. “I’ll start in this tub since there will be far more lye in here from soaking the linen than in the rinsing water.” She pointed to another steaming tub. “I’ll have you rinse as soon as I’m finished scrubbing. You’ll need to scrub bit more to get it all rinsed, but it shouldn’t be as harsh on your hands.”

  “You’re still using lye?”

  “Yes, my lady. While soap is used to clean the particularly stubborn spots, we don’t have enough to use it for everything.”

  “Why is that? Surely we make our own here.”

  Molly shook her head in denial. “His Lordship hasn’t made that improvement yet.”

  “I see.” Perhaps that would be something she would need to speak with him about. Soap was a luxury that was quickly turning into a standard. Not only did it clean more efficiently, it would be less harsh on the servants’ hands.

  Victoria moved to her designated spot, only stopping briefly to tie a protective apron around her waist. The room was steamy from the boiling water, and the pungent scent of lye caused her nose to twitch.

  After watching Molly scrub the first batch, Victoria was surprised to see the woman’s hands redden up. After doing this so often, wouldn’t her hands be used to it by now?

  “Have you been doing laundry for a while now or is this something new to you?” Victoria tried not to stare at the reddened skin.

  “Yes, Your Grace. For some time now.”

  The irritation never went away?

  “All right, here’s the first of the batch.” Molly pulled the sheet out of the darkened water and wrung out some of the water before putting it in Victoria’s clean tub. “Now be sure to scrub it a bit more.”

  Victoria only paused slightly, eyeing the steaming water. It would just be like a bath. A really, really hot bath. But she had felt hot water before. Reaching in to grab the material, she hissed as the burning water scorched her skin. She bit her tongue quickly though. Molly was dealing with the discomfort and she would as well.

  After the third sheet, Victoria’s hands began to throb, but blessedly, they weren’t burning anymore. Water had sloshed onto her gown, making the material cling to her body. Strands of hair were plastered to her neck and face, wet from the billowing steam.

  They fell into a rhythm, only pausing for a moment to transfer the material from tub to tub. The ache that started in Victoria’s lower back spread until fire burned through her entire back, her shoulders bunching into tight knots.

  “Are you sure you are able to help hanging them?” Molly asked, looking at Victoria in concern, a basket full of wet linens on her hip. “You’ve already done so much and I think I can manage this.”

  Victoria shook her head firmly. “No. It will be far too difficult for one person. Besides, if I help you then it will be finished sooner.”

  Molly’s lips curved slightly. “I appreciate your help, Your Grace. You did very well. Even some people that have been doing it for some time don’t hold up as well as you did.” The maid turned as if embarrassed to have said the words and made to leave the room.

  Staring at Molly’s back, Victoria felt something move in her chest. The woman’s small praise of something she had done had been more than anyone had ever given her in her life. She had never felt the approval from her father, and although she knew her brother loved her, she knew he didn’t understand what drove her. Neit
her of her family members had ever praised her before.

  It felt… good.

  Better than good. It was almost addictive. She wanted to do more so that she would receive more praise. Which was silly. Molly was much lower in station. A servant. Yet, she had smiled at her with genuine warmth. Something that had never happened before.

  Hefting another basket, she followed the maid outside.

  Though her back was already on fire, the weather was very fine out and shaking out and hanging the laundry was strangely peaceful. The two of them had fallen into companionable silence, content to just enjoy the weather and the work.

  After another hour, all of the laundry was billowing in the sweet-smelling breeze.

  “Shall I bring some tea to your room? It’s the least I can do to repay you for all the work you’ve done to help me.”

  “That would be lovely. Perhaps you will consider joining me?” Victoria asked nervously, a little surprised that she wanted to spend time with the woman.

  “That is very kind, Your Grace, but I have other chores I must see to before dinner.” Eyeing her, Molly looked concerned. “I’ll bring that tea to you room straight away.”

  Victoria nodded, only barely suppressing her sigh. Of course the Molly couldn’t take tea with her. She was a duchess and Molly was a servant.

  Watching Molly leave, Victoria felt herself sag. Exhaustion swiftly took over her, robbing her of what strength she had. She hobbled to the house with what dignity she could muster, hoping to make it into her room without being seen. Relieved that no one had seen her, especially as she tried to ascend the stairs, she reached out to open her door, and quickly removed her hand from the doorknob. The pain that abraded her skin was shocking, but seeing the conditions of her hands, she wasn’t really surprised.

  Gritting her teeth, she opened her door and walked into the room before looking at her hands more closely. The fever-red skin was chapped, even raw in some areas. Flexing her fingers, her skin protested as it stretched over her knuckles, causing her to flinch.

  While Victoria was unused to the work she had performed, she knew that Molly, even though she had performed the task many times before, suffered from the same rawness. The life of a servant was one of drudgery and fatigue, and, depending on the disposition of their employer, one of little to no recognition. Although never exactly unkind, she hadn’t given her own servants the praise that they had been due. No wonder no one had liked her.