He sank back into his chair. “I will not be responsible for you or Lady Chervil.”
“No. I imagine you are not even responsible for yourself these days. One more thing, my lord. When Mrs. Donnelly arrives back here in a few moments with your daughter in tow, you are to put aside whatever sorrows you have and pay her the attention she deserves. Do I make myself clear?” If she was overstepping her boundaries, she didn’t care. He had suffered, but so had Elizabeth and at his hand. There was no time like the present to start a change.
“She looks too much like Emma.” Pain etched lines around his eyes and mouth.
Sympathy shared the space with her disgust. He was in pain, but his behavior could not be ignored. “And quite a lot like you too, Markus. She is a smart child and she needs you.”
Tugging at his badly tied cravat, he pulled it loose. “You have been here not twenty minutes. How do you know she’s smart?”
Phoebe sat on the edge of the monstrous desk. “Your daughter is two years old and has not spoken, yet she clearly understands what is said to her.”
He sat up. “Has not spoken?”
It took a force of will not to rail at him for being so self-absorbed he didn’t know his child was mute. “According to your staff, Elizabeth does not speak. I think that is a sign of her intelligence.”
“How so?”
“To be so filled with sorrow at her age that she chooses not to speak to anyone means she understands a great deal of what is happening in her world. Perhaps she has nothing to say in a world that left her without a mother and a father.”
Staring down at his hands in his lap he nodded.
One scratch at the door and it opened. Elizabeth ran several steps into the room, stopped and stared at her father.
Softening his expression, Markus looked up. “Come here, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth looked from him to Phoebe. She spotted the broken glass on the far side of the room and took a step back.
Phoebe smiled. “It’s all right. Go to your father.”
Going to one knee, Markus opened his arms.
Blinking, Elizabeth cocked her head before running into his embrace.
It was all Phoebe could do to keep from breaking down into sobs at the sight of father and daughter hugging. What had she gotten herself into? She must be mad. If Emma had not been her closest friend, she would have left Markus Flammel and his problems to someone else at Everton. Though, now that she’d seen Elizabeth, she wanted to see her happy.
Mrs. Donnelly watched from the doorway. She dabbed her eyes with her apron and sniffed back her tears.
Lifting Elizabeth, Markus sat in his chair and propped her in his lap. “I am sorry I have not been at home, Elizabeth. I promise to try to do better.”
Elizabeth put her palm on his cheek and father and daughter stared into each other’s eyes.
It was a start. Phoebe shooed Mrs. Donnelly from the study, followed her, and closed the door, giving them some privacy. “I will need two rooms made up for Lady Chervil and myself. Once they are ready, I expect you to begin the process of getting this house cleaned. It is a crime how far Rosefield has fallen in two years. It is clear Elizabeth needs a proper nanny and Rosefield needs a gardener. I will put those things at the top of my list.”
A wide smile spread across Mrs. Donnelly’s face. “Will you be the new mistress here then, Miss Hallsmith?”
“Do not be ridiculous. I am an Everton lady. I shall help get his lordship back on his feet, if that is possible, and I will see that the house and child are in order. Once that is done, I will leave them to their life.” Fear and sorrow spread through Phoebe’s chest. Was she doing the right thing? Would Emma approve?
Her gut twisted as it always did when she imagined the end of an assignment. The client went on their happy way and Phoebe moved on to the next client’s life. She never moved on with her own. Going to Scotland at the age of eighteen meant that she had missed several key seasons where she might have found someone to love. At twenty-four, Phoebe’s time to find a husband and have a family was at an end. Everton’s had been a boon for her. If not for Lady Jane, she would be listening to her mother and eldest brother natter on about how disappointing she was.
Phoebe sighed. “Watson, we arrived in a hired carriage as ours had a wheel that required fixing at the inn this morning. I expect it will arrive in a few hours with our maids and trucks.”
Watson straightened his coat and smoothed his hair back. “I understand, Miss.”
At least he was acting like a butler again. That was a small piece of progress. Phoebe would take some comfort in that. “Mrs. Donnelly, please knock on the study door in twenty minutes and take Elizabeth to the nursery. I am sure this will be very tiring for her.”
“And for his lordship as well,” Mrs. Donnelly said.
It was true, but Elizabeth was Phoebe’s first worry. “I am less concerned with his lordship’s condition. That child has suffered a lifetime. Well, her lifetime anyway.”
“Miss, am I to understand that you will be taking over as housekeeper?”
Phoebe squeezed Mrs. Donnelly’s hand. “I am not taking your position. I will leave when the house is in order. The viscount needs assistance and I need you to continue as the housekeeper Rosefield deserves. I would like to know: How have things gotten this bad, Mrs. Donnelly? Why have you not managed the house at least?” It was harsher than Phoebe had intended, but Rosefield was a mess. It was clear two years of neglect were at fault.
Mrs. Donnelly turned red and fussed with the keys at her waist. “I do not wish to speak against his lordship, Miss. He has been a good master for many years despite all the restrictions his father put on him. After my lady perished bringing the babe into the world, he was not the same man. More like the earl every day, he was. Drinking and disappearing for weeks on end. When he would come home, he’d fire half the staff. Some folks who had been in his service for years lost their posts for no good reason except his grief. It isn’t possible to keep up a house of this size. We have only four of us left and the child to care for.”
Horror smacked Phoebe in the face. “Four? You and Watson, the cook and one maid?”
“Cook was fired last year. The upstairs maid has been acting as cook. She’s a fair one too.”
“But it means there is only one maid for this entire estate.” Drawing in a full breath, Phoebe made a mental list of all that would need her attention. “Things are far worse than I expected. It’s a good thing I am here.”
“Yes, Miss.”
Honoria bustled in from down the hallway beside the stairs. “Do you know there is no staff in this house, Phoebe?”
Phoebe liked Honoria’s directness, but sometimes wished she would save it for when they were alone. “I have just been informed, my lady. When the other carriage arrives, the driver and footman will have to bring our bags upstairs before they return to London. I will help get the rooms ready.”
“Of course, my dear. I fear you have your work cut out for you.” Sighing, Honoria ambled out the front door.
That much was certain. Wishing she had her grandmother’s council, Phoebe climbed the stairs to find two guest rooms.
Emma’s house was not the loving place it had once been, and perhaps being estranged from her own family did not make Phoebe the perfect choice to correct things. Still, she was determined to create a safe place for little Elizabeth even if that meant removing the child. As she entered the first guest room, she prayed that would not be necessary. Emma would not want Markus to be left all alone. She shook off the dismal notion.
Chapter 2
No. 18
An Everton lady will see to the welfare of any child before anything else.
—The Everton Companion
Rules of Conduct
Certain his heart was breaking all over again, Markus knew he should keep holding Elizab
eth, but he couldn’t bear it. He turned her toward the desk.
She slapped her chubby little hands on the sturdy oak.
“Your momma bought me this desk as a wedding gift.”
A moment passed, and then she turned and looked up at him before examining the desk again.
The knot in his chest tightened. His gut twisted. The day his sweet Emma had the monstrous piece delivered flooded back to him. She’d been so proud of the gift and cried when she realized it was too big for the room. Markus had assured her that he loved it and it was the perfect size. She had known he lied, but it didn’t matter. He’d cherished the eyesore from the first day. Now it only served as a reminder of all he’d lost. Each week his secretary stacked papers on it, and on his rare visits Markus ignored the mess.
Phoebe Hallsmith was right, damn her. Emma would be ashamed of him.
Elizabeth patted his cheek and her green eyes glistened.
“I know. It is far too big, but she loved me, and it was a gift.” Her tiny fingers, soft in his hand, ripped his soul out. It was too much.
A knock at the door startled them both.
Mrs. Donnelly peeked in. “I thought the little miss might need to take a nap, my lord?”
Watching Elizabeth rub her face, he nodded. “I suppose we have had a trying morning.”
Elizabeth toddled across the room, only looking back once, took Mrs. Donnelly’s hand, and left.
It would be normal to feel loss, but Markus flooded with relief as the pain in his chest eased. Opening his drawer to drown his feelings with brandy only reminded him of the mess he’d made. He took out a piece of foolscap. He didn’t need help and would write to Miles Hallsmith telling him to keep his sister at home where she belonged. That girl should be married and running her own house by now. Slamming the drawer closed, he rose.
First to find another bottle. Sure, he had some in the cellar, he left his study, determined to complete his mission.
* * * *
Afternoon sun poured into his study and glared off the desk. The last Markus remembered he’d cursed Phoebe Hallsmith after downing half a bottle of brandy. Most of the day was lost to that bottle, but at least he’d not thought of his pour Emma in that time.
The house must have been on fire to cause the commotion clanging down the halls. Markus held the side of his head to keep his skull from splitting. The grandfather clock on the west wall read two o’clock. He must have drunk more than he thought to sleep so long.
Elizabeth’s high-pitched shriek forced him upright and sent the room spinning. He sighed and pulled the cord for Watson.
The butler entered with a ridiculous grin spread across his normally dour face. “You called, my lord?”
“What on earth has gotten into you, Watson?”
Straightening, Watson wiped all expression from his face. “Nothing, my lord. It is only that Miss Hallsmith and Lady Chervil are in the foyer and it has been rather lively. The carriage with their luggage has arrived. They each have a maid, of course, and Everton’s sent a footman and driver, who are assisting the transition. It is almost like old times. Of course, the footman and carriage will leave when the ladies are properly settled.”
“Why would she bring her own footman?”
“I assume for protection on the roads, my lord. However, since you fired all of ours, it’s a lucky circumstance.”
Head aching, stomach churning, he had no patience for more of Phoebe Hallsmith’s antics. “I did not ask your opinion, Watson.”
“Did you need something, my lord?”
Markus grabbed a stack of papers from the desk and threw them at Watson. They rained down all over the room, but none hit the butler, who watched without remark or expression. “I need silence.”
Watson raised an eyebrow. “Miss Hallsmith wishes an immediate meeting with you, my lord.”
Why couldn’t everyone leave him in peace? “A cup of coffee and some toast would be nice, Watson.”
“Yes, my lord.” Watson stepped out of the room and closed the door.
Shouting and the clunking of trunks resounded through the walls. Elizabeth’s laughter mingled with the cacophony. He jotted a quick note to Miles about his brutish sister and getting her taken away. Standing, he resolved to tell her to leave. This was still his house, and his mother had no right to send that woman to upset things. The foyer loomed chaotic. Two men in unfamiliar gray livery carried bags and trunks up the steps at the constant order of a plump, gray-haired woman in a floral day dress and white cap. Standing on the third step brought her to the shoulders of the footmen before they started the climb.
Phoebe waved her straw bonnet about and scolded him from across the marble floor. “This lack of staff on your part is very inconvenient, my lord. I cannot keep Everton’s footman or driver. We have brought our ladies’ maids, but more than that was impossible beyond the initial move.”
“This is my house, Miss Hallsmith. You were not invited and might consider that when criticizing.” There, he had set her straight. He was in charge here and no one would usurp his authority.
“You did not invite us?” The woman on the steps trudged down and crossed to him.
He’d have been exaggerating if he said she was five feet tall. “No, I did not.”
“Phoebe, what is the meaning of this?” A wiry gray hair escaped her loose bun, and she flicked it off her cheek several times, all without success. She propped her fists on her hips and a deep frown creased her etched face.
Phoebe scurried over. “The Countess of Castlereagh entered into the contract to assist here at Rosefield.”
She looked from Phoebe to him. “You said he needed help. I assumed that meant he wanted our help. This is very out of the ordinary. I much prefer to be welcomed on my assignments.”
Waving the comment off, Phoebe sighed. “I only said that, as a close friend of his lordship’s wife, it was my responsibility to help. His mother indicated he was at the end of his wits and would fall into an even graver situation if no one helped. No one implied that he was in favor of the prospect.”
Elbows jutting out at her sides, Lady Chervil squinted at Phoebe while shaking her head. “Once again, you have manipulated the facts, Phoebe.”
“No more than you would have, if you found yourself in such a position.” Phoebe’s smile was at once wicked and sweet.
Markus’s heart skipped a beat or two, followed by a flood of guilt. He fisted his hands and pushed aside the stupidity.
A childish giggle tumbled from Honoria. “So true, so true. Well you had better do the honors, sweet girl.”
All the silliness fled Phoebe’s expression as she folded her hands in front of her. As demure in appearance as any debutante, she nodded once. “My lord, may I introduce Lady Honoria Chervil. She is a dowager who gives her time to the Everton Domestic Society in instances where it would be inappropriate for one of the ladies to go alone. Honoria, Markus Flammel, Viscount of Devonrose.”
Honoria dipped into a pretty curtsy, leaving Markus no choice but to bow. “I apologize that you have come all this way at such great inconvenience, but as I told Miss Hallsmith, I need no help here at Rosefield.”
Her fists returned to her hips and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why have you no servants?”
Becca, Katy, Mrs. Donnelly, and Watson all stared at him. He pointed to them. “I have servants.”
Rolling her eyes, Phoebe said, “Four. You have four servants for this entire estate.”
He tried to think beyond the fog of past inebriation, but only hazy moments filtered through. Some of the staff had been at Rosefield since before he had inherited the estate. He wouldn’t have let them go. “That cannot be right.”
Watson said, “I guess it is five if you include Duck.”
A new bout of annoyance flashed through him but his aching head took precedence. He’d kill for a cup
of coffee. Trying to rub the pain away, he remembered the argument he had with the overbearing stable-master. “Becca, go and get me a cup of coffee.”
She appeared as harried as he felt. Her dark brown hair stuck out in wild curls around her face. Wide-eyed, she scurried off toward the kitchens.
Elizabeth peeked out from behind Mrs. Donnelly’s skirts. Fear etched in her tiny features, the laughter he’d heard from his study a distant memory. Tears dampened her cheeks. She sniffed and wiped her nose on the voluminous skirts before retreating behind their safety.
Somehow, he had become his father.
The entire household feared him. Worse than that, his own daughter shied from him, afraid he might fly off at her. Maybe the meddlesome girl was right. He hated that notion. Brushing aside what he didn’t know, he focused on what he did. “I know I fired Duck. Why is he still here?”
“He refused to leave the animals with no one to tend them.” Watson raised an eyebrow but said no more.
“At least someone around here as some sense,” Phoebe said.
“Are you saying that codger has been on my property, tending my livestock, without pay?” It wasn’t possible. Why would anyone do such a thing?
Watson nodded. “For the past six months, my lord.”
His valet would know the answers and dispel all this nonsense. “Where is Blakely? He will set this all right.”
“I believe he is now valet to Mr. Tolsbury in Shropshire, my lord.”
Hopeful, he asked, “He quit me?”
Eyebrow still raised, Watson said, “If memory serves, you told him he was a nefarious cheat and a black-hearted thief before you physically tossed him from the house.”
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