Finagled

by Kelso, Rachel

  George wrapped his arms around her and pulled the sheet up over their naked bodies. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, goosebumps were forming on Ramona's arms, she burrowed against him, with her back to him, and found herself falling asleep, suddenly exhausted from the unusual activity.

  Chapter Ten

  When Ramona awoke she was alone. The room was full of light. She sat up in surprise. Falling asleep in one unfamiliar bed the night before and waking up in yet another. Then she remembered, how could she forget? Her body still felt strangely electrified and her face was set in a permanent grin. Still she blushed as she jumped out of bed and went digging around on the rug for her discarded nightdress. Slipping it over her head, she tried the panel between rooms and opened it quietly. She saw her new bedroom in the morning light, it seemed lovelier today, was it the sunlight or the events of the previous night playing on a loop in her mind. She had shared a bed with her husband. She felt elated.

  She rang for Melanie. A hot bath was brought while she waited wrapped in a big blanket by the freshly kindled fire. The morning chill was biting. She smiled to herself, to the fire, she sang a little in delight, Shim sham mcgee foovia mcwhat what howsit woo, her voice rising attractively with her delightful lyrical genius.

  Oh how lovely she sounded and felt. Outside in the hall, George heard her beautiful voice and felt a strange feeling. A pleasure at it, to be sure, but also a regret. How close the night before had he come to consummating their marriage for real? It was a wonderful night, probably the most pleasurable he had ever enjoyed that so involved his own hand, and yet, he had the feeling it could not go on like that. It was almost painful, the desire he felt just to go ahead and sheathe his incredible man sword to the hilt in the beautiful garden between her shapely thighs. He found himself scowling. It was a bad idea. It was such an exquisitely beautiful amazingly delicious bad idea.

  He walked on, past Ramona's door where he could still hear her inspiring voice lifted in song, "Sham a lamm a woo woo fally boop mow mow fipple wrangler so so flee!" it came, clear as a bell.

  Ramona bathed in the hot, delightfully scented waters and chose a particularly lovely dress from her wedding trousseau to greet this, her first day as the mistress of Loathewood, Duchess of Blusterfuss, Ramona Flanders. Melanie was skilled at hairdressing, and Ramona's incredibly long locks were tamed, pulled and teased into a tight and shiny pile of tidy, practical curls and buns atop her small head.

  Her dress was a yellow cream, pulling together the honey color of her hair and the milky shade of her deliciously soft skin, she looked almost like a vision. She wore no jewelry but a band of gold and the sapphire engagement ring that George had given to her in more terrible times.

  "Well, Melanie," she said, "You have met some of the servants, have you not? What can you tell me about Loathewood?"

  "Well, Your Grace, there are many servants. I have never seen so many. I am sharing a room with 2 other girls. They are the only ones I have really gotten to speak to, aside from the housekeeper, Mrs. Lopple, that is, who showed me around so I would be able to bring you your this, that, and the other as you require it. I am a bit befubbled, I must admit. The house is rather large and I have to..." she lowered her head, "begging your pardon Your Grace, I do not mean to complain,"

  "Complain? Oh Melanie. It is a large house and we are both strangers here. I understand. I will not ask too much of you until we have settled in and found our place."

  "Thank you, Your Grace." Melanie said.

  "So, you have had a bit of a tour, then?" Ramona asked, watching Melanie in the mirror.

  "Yes, just a bit. I have seen the kitchens and below stairs as much as I should require to serve you, and been shown about to the rooms where you are likely to call for me. The house is very large, but a lot of it is kept for best, and everything is covered in sheets."

  "Ah, yes. I imagine we will get to see some of it soon, though. The Duke said he would like to throw a party, to introduce me to the neighborhood. I imagine it will be a huge undertaking. I must find out if he wishes me to finagle the details myself. Mother always arranged for the parties, but they were never in her honor.” Ramona had assisted her mother often, as it was expected she would one day have her own home to run. Even if the servants are quadrupled and the square footage times-tenned she thought she should be able to manage.

  "Yes, Your Grace, you will throw a fine todo with this house as your canvas," Melanie said, pinning a final curl into place, and standing back to survey her handiwork.

  "Oh, Melanie, you have outdone yourself." Ramona said, touching her hands to her glossy locks and giving the servant girl an encouraging look. “It’s gorgeous, but not too ostentatious.”

  "Thank you, Your Grace," Melanie met her mistress' eyes with genuine warmth.

  "So now I suppose I must see something of the house. Do you think Mrs. Lopple has time to give me a tour? Perhaps I can find the Duke and ask him..." she felt a warmth in her stomach. The idea of walking through the halls and rooms of George's ancestral home with her hand in his gave her the sensation of butterflies.

  "Yes, my lady, breakfast is being served now downstairs, and I do imagine that His Grace is now at table."

  "Of course, breakfast," Ramona laughed slightly, "I had nearly forgotten that I would have to eat today."

  "I can show you the way to the dining room... I think." Melanie sounded somewhat doubtful.

  "Yes please, it will be an adventure, how lost could we possibly get?" she asked, with a smile.

  Melanie had a firmer grasp on the hugeness of Loathewood, so she made a slightly worried face, but as it was, they only made a wrong turn or two on their way downstairs, to the first floor and a somewhat opposite wing, where the dining room was.

  When she entered the room, Andrew was already up from the table, excusing himself. He looked at her with surprise, made a slight inclination of his head, and rushed from the room.

  George was seated with a half picked at plate in front of him. He smiled at Ramona slightly. She fixed a plate from the sideboard and sat across from him.

  "Good morning, Ramona," George said, keeping his eyes on his plate.

  "Good morning, George,” she replied, leaning forward slightly, searching out eye contact.

  "Did you sleep well?" he asked.

  "I... yes." she replied, somewhat surprised. The question posed as if they had not seen each other since parting the night before. She found the egg in her mouth chewy and unsatisfying.

  "I was wondering," Ramona said, "if you might be able to show me around the house today. I am eager to learn my way around so that I can begin my duties."

  "Ah. Well. I’ve been away a long time... I have men to see about the grounds, and tenants who have need to speak to me today... I am sure Mrs. Lopple can give you a good tour. She’s been here almost as long as I have," he smiled, "and more of those years spent standing upright and speaking in full sentences."

  "Oh. Yes, well. Just to get me started, I suppose. I would love to hear about the house from you, as well." Ramona said.

  "She really knows the history better than I do," George stated. "I am sorry Ramona, but I will be very busy for quite a while. I usually don’t spend so long away, and while I have good men working for me, many of my tenants have become accustomed to dealing with me personally. It is, I believe, a point of pride to them that they do business with me. Some let things on their acreages get quite out of hand if I am not around to oversee it."

  "Of course, you will be busy. I’m sure that once we’re settled, I should be as well." Ramona smiled tightly.

  "That's the spirit." George said, standing up suddenly, his plate unfinished, and giving Ramona a pat on the head.

  She broke off a bit of pork and gnawed on it with a sour look on her face after he exited the room.

  "Infuriating!" she said aloud. Inside she bitterly reminded herself of his words the night before, I could never regret you, if this was not regret, what was it? If he had just leaned in
and kissed her softly instead of patting her on the head like an obedient child, perhaps she would have looked past the rather flat way he had explained his busyness, but the pat? The pat was simply infuriating.

  She finished her breakfast in a fume, and then went to find the housekeeper. She would not neglect her duties, she would not stew, she would just try harder to show George that she too could be too busy for him.

  Mrs. Lopple was a round and comfortingly soft older woman. Her hair had clearly once been a light color, turned to a pure and clean white. She seemed to have a friendly face, especially when speaking to George or Andrew the night before, but as was the case with many women she was hesitant to embrace a new female in the house, especially the first one in over a decade to outrank her. The last had been Regina, Andrew's mother, and that woman had been a disaster. She looked at Ramona with a tight mouth.

  "Hello, Mrs. Lopple," Ramona smiled warmly.

  "Your Grace," Mrs. Lopple tilted herself slightly, since she was liable to topple if she bowed any further.

  "I do hope you have time to take me over the house today, and help me familiarize myself with any duties that I should take over," Ramona said.

  "Well. With the party in the works..." Mrs. Lopple softened slightly at Ramona's tone and correctness.

  "Oh, is there already work being done on that? The Duke had told me of it tentatively, but I was not sure if I was to have any hand in the planning or not. I would be happy to assist. It would perhaps be a good idea, as part of my introduction to the neighborhood, to introduce them in my own style. I hesitate to say... show off my skills as a wife..."

  "Of course! I thought just the same thing, that you should be involved, but His Grace told me not to bother you, I beg your pardon."

  "Well, he clearly doesn’t know what the wives in the neighborhood expect of me. I believe, I should be slaving over this introduction to impress them."

  "I agree completely," Mrs. Lopple felt a bit of relief. She was not entirely fashionable enough to plan a sudden party out of nowhere and have it be up to the standards of ladies accustomed to London seasons.

  "Well, then, first we can look over the house, particularly the show rooms that will be accessed during such a party, and then I should like a basic idea of how to get from my room and, for that matter, to my room, as I have only used the passage there in the candlelight." Ramona smiled.

  "I think I have the time, my lady." Mrs. Lopple decided, charitably.

  "Good. Thank you, please, lead on." Ramona said.

  The house was incredible. Incredible and large and incredibly large. Six stories high and impossibly wide in all directions, Ramona found herself surprised upon turning a corner at the end of a long hallway to find another such hallway, going on seemingly forever. She tried to find landmarks, paintings, bits of statuary, to help her remember the way.

  The ballroom, and other rooms kept for best and guests were beautiful, and she pictured in them large displays of flowers and other decorations appropriate for a large ball. She could imagine the place, not covered in white sheets as it was now, but full of candles, fruit, flowers, dancers, beautiful gowns and potted plants.

  She asked Mrs. Lopple how many families there were in the neighborhood that could be expected to attend. There were 5 of close proximity that would almost certainly succumb to the curiosity, a couple of old bachelors who could go either way and two or three families in a neighboring county who would probably be invited and would accept if the party was to extend over a few days, making it worth their while to travel.

  Ramona planned in her head, it could be a small, weekend party, a ball with dancing and musicians and gambling if the tastes led to that, hunting if George did not oppose on the following morning, meals throughout the day and a formal dinner, with guests leaving as convenient over the next day or so. The house could easily accommodate a party of this size, but since George had proclaimed himself to be so busy, she hesitated to make anything like a decision without first consulting him in full. Still, she felt a dizzy excitement planning such a todo.

  She made a mental note to ask George that evening and then went over some of the household accounts, familiarizing herself with how much food and clothing, and ultimately money, was needed each month. It was quite a lot, and she saw with pleasure that the servants were very well taken care of, in addition to reasonable wages, they had a goodly portion of cloth and food for their own use every month.

  Everything was in a very good order. It was clear that Mrs. Lopple did a good job with the accounts. Ramona discussed it with her and they worked out a system for Ramona to take over certain aspects of the work. It was gratifying to know she would have something to do. She let Mrs. Lopple keep the keys, out of respect, until a new set could be made for her.

  Ramona realized that even though there was a vast amount of work involved with running the large house, there were more than enough people dedicated to doing it, and her daily commitments were likely to be less than she had anticipated, having been used to her mother and their much smaller household.

  Next Ramona discussed with the cook, a Mrs. Kettleborn, her specialties, and what foods George had a taste for. The woman clearly knew more of his tastes that she did, so she asked for a few simple additions and they went over a menu for the week. Mrs. Kettleborn was pleased that Ramona so valued her input. The young Duchess was quickly making allies among the staff.

  When all of that was handled, she found herself with a free afternoon. Ramona decided to explore the house on her own. She had a general idea of direction from looking out of the windows at intervals, and was not too worried about losing her way during the day. It was a clear, crisp afternoon, winter seemed to dominate the air more than autumn, and the bright, flat, white sky sent a cold light into the long hallways of Loathewood Manor.

  She had felt a bit ostentatiously dressed, sitting in the kitchen going over menus or in the Mrs Lopple's sitting room discussing accounts, but in the grand halls and ornately carved rooms of the manor, she felt almost as if she were underdressed. Everything was so much larger, older, and more expensive than anything she had ever encountered before. Some of the rooms looked positively medieval and she felt as if she were traveling through time to pass their threshold.

  She felt an overwhelming emotion that accompanied the knowledge that this was now her home. A time would come when she would be used to this grandeur. Would Loathewood ever cease to amaze her? She determined to never let it. She did not want to become someone she was not, a Duchess looking down her nose at simpler things. She remembered the days when she had played that part, as a child, with her young female cousins and herself taking turns being some Duchess or other they had heard their parents gossiping over, even emulating the Queen, at times. The memory youthful silliness came back to her and she found herself bubbling over with unexpected delights.

  She cut her giggling short as she heard a shuffle of feet in the hall. Her first reaction was mild embarrassment. It was probably a servant and she had probably surprised them as much as they had her. She quietly went to the doorway and peered out. She could not help but startle at the sight of her new nephew turning a corner, quickly.

  She felt inclined to follow him. She did not know what business he might have in this area of the house, but imagined it was just as much as she had herself. Perhaps there was some spot around that he liked the view of, or some secret hiding place he liked to visit. There was no reason for her to narrow her eyes suspiciously, but this was what she found herself doing. She shook it off as a side effect of the embarrassment she felt at having been caught in the midst of a giggle fit.

  She purposefully walked slowly, following the path he had taken, giving him time to get away if that was what he wished. She reached the main stairwell with relative ease, and felt a bit proud of her sense of direction. She by no means knew her way around the large house, but she had some idea of what wall to follow if she felt befuddled.

  The rest of the afternoon was somewhat lonely
. She realized then why her mother and aunt were so fond of embroidery, though she had previously found it to be a somewhat slow and tedious task. She found her own embroidery materials, unpacked by one of the wingback chairs in her room. It was somewhat funny to see them laid out for ready use, and she imagined that it meant that Melanie had not been the one to unpack for her, that girl knowing that those rarely used materials in the bottom of her trunk were usually pressed into the lowest drawer of her writing desk , stuffed in their basket underneath her bed, or otherwise kept out of sight unless it was nearing the Christmas season and she found a need to manufacture a pillow or privacy screen for some relative or other who had admired a piece of her stitching that hung on the wall.

  She was not useless at the craft, she just found that it was boring and actually quite impractical. The pillows she decorated were often too small to interest a cat, and she had no taste towards the frumpy inclination for pretty and useless clutter as decoration that so many of her elders seemed to thrive on. The more oxygen being taken up by a group of overdressed matrons and their poodles, the more space they stuffed with things and googas, taking up every inch of table and most of the settees with pillows and tassels and porcelain kittens.