A Match for Mother

by Mona Gedney, Kathryn Kirkwood, Regina Scott

  Cynthia found it difficult to share her sons’ joy in their new home. The lofty Gothic ceilings with their open carved beams, the dark wood that seemed to panel each room, and the thick-limbed, many-knobbed furniture with the scarlet upholstery seemed broodily depressing to her. Odd that she had never noticed it as a child, but then most of her memories of being in the house with Daniel’s sisters were pleasant. Now the dust she had first noticed in the withdrawing room was everywhere, and the thought of cleaning it from so many rooms depressed her further, until the footmen began marching past with her belongings and she remembered she would not have to lift a finger if she didn’t want to. She trailed behind the procession up the massive central stairway, gazing at the rich-hued tapestries, oriental vases, and Greek statues that lined the long halls, until Evenson stopped her at the doorway to a large bedchamber.

  “Your room, Mrs. Lewiston,” he intoned.

  The name sounded surprisingly lovely on his lips, and she smiled as she stepped past him. Then her smile froze on her face. Staring at her in the center of the chamber was a huge box bed whose burgundy and gold hangings reached to brush the high ceiling. There were twin dressing tables on either side of it, the elaborate carvings of twisting dragons on their fronts matching the headboard of the giant bed. The size and complexity of each piece of furniture was overwhelming enough, but what upset her far more was the tortoiseshell comb and brush set on one of the dressers, with all the accouterments a gentleman might need to shave and dress in the morning. A young woman in a black dress and white apron was setting Cynthia’s brushes and belongings on the other table.

  “This,” Cynthia said in icy tones, “is not my bedchamber.”

  Daniel was chasing Adam down the corridor that held the family bedchambers when he was pulled up short by Cynthia’s voice. It wasn’t so much that it was any louder than usual; if anything, it sounded oddly stilled.

  “I assure you that there has been a mistake,” she was telling Evenson, who stood erect and proper just inside the door to the master bedchamber. “This cannot possibly be my room.”

  “Hey, ho,” he called, moving to his butler’s side. “Is something amiss?”

  One look at her confirmed his suspicions. Under the pale pink rosebuds on the rim of the fetching straw bonnet she had worn to their wedding, her chin was as firm as Adam’s when he was determined to have his way. Even the ladylike flounce of her pink silk wedding gown failed to hide the fact that her dainty foot was tapping in agitation.

  Evenson cleared his throat. “Madame does not find the bedchamber to her liking.”

  “Oh?” Daniel glanced around the large chamber. He didn’t immediately see anything that might trouble her in the heavy polished walnut furniture or burgundy bed linens; but then he’d seen it every day since he had been eight. “If it’s the decor that bothers you, Cynthia, we can easily have it redone. I suppose it is a bit on the manly side.”

  She was alternating between blushing and paling, and he knew something must be seriously wrong.

  “Evenson,” he remarked casually, “go see what the boys have found to amuse themselves with so quietly, would you?”

  Evenson bowed with obvious relief. “With pleasure, sir.”

  As his man hurried off down the hall, Daniel stepped to Cynthia’s side. “Now then, suppose you tell me what’s troubling you.”

  She glared up at him, anger rising as she felt a tear trickle down one cheek. How could he stand there and pretend the only thing troubling her was the color of the bed linens? She had once thought him lack-witted, but now she wondered whether he was a lecher as well. “You promised!” she hissed.

  Daniel blinked. “Promised?”

  She stepped back from him, livid. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember. To think I trusted you. Call the carriage at once. The boys and I are leaving.”

  “Cynthia!” He caught her hands in his, and she pulled them quickly out. “I don’t understand. If you don’t like this chamber, you have only to pick another. Gads, there must be at least twenty in this monstrosity.”

  Arrested, she stared at him. “Choose another?”

  “Yes, please, if that’s what’s troubling you.”

  She stepped a little closer, peering up into his face but saw only earnest concern. He stood as still as possible, wondering what on earth had happened to make her so skittish. “Where are you sleeping?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

  “I asked Evenson to move my things down the corridor closer to the nursery stairs,” he told her honestly. “I thought you’d need the bigger room. But if you don’t like it...”

  She expelled her breath slowly and forced her fists, which were balled at her sides, to open. “No, no, this chamber is fine. I’m sorry I made a fuss. You see, this is obviously the master’s bedchamber, and I noticed your things on the dresser and that made me think...”

  “That I was installing you in my bedchamber,” Daniel finished, understanding at last. “I’m sorry I’m such a slow-top. I should have explained it to you. In fact, I probably should have let you make the arrangements. It strikes me now that perhaps you’d rather the boys slept on this floor, near us.”

  She picked at the lace on the sleeve of her gown, afraid to ask him for even such a small favor after making such a silly mistake. “Would you mind?”

  “Not in the slightest. As I said, we’ve plenty of space. I daresay John at least is of an age at which he’d like his own.”

  “My own room!” John gasped in the doorway.

  Daniel smiled at his face. Despite the look of astonishment, it was cheerier now than any time he could remember. It pleased him to think he might have had some hand in that. “Your very own, if you’d like it.”

  “I’ll say!” John declared. “Hear that, you two?” he called to his brothers, who were hurrying up the corridor with Evenson puffing at their heels. “I’m to have my own room!”

  “I want my own room, too!” Adam demanded.

  James looked thoughtful. “I don’t think I should like to sleep alone just yet. Especially in a strange house.”

  “It’s not a strange house,” Adam pouted. “It’s our home, isn’t it, Mr. Daniel?”

  “It certainly is, my good man,” Daniel told him, scooping him up and depositing him on his shoulders. He caught Evenson grimacing at the gesture and grinned. “There are at least eight bedchambers along this corridor. You may have your pick of the lot—with your mother’s approval, of course.” Cynthia nodded, and John and James dashed off in opposite directions, whooping in delight. Daniel felt Adam wiggling.

  “Hurry up, Mr. Daniel. We don’t want them getting the best rooms!”

  Evenson cleared his throat. “Might I be excused, sir? If you’re going to be making alternative living arrangements, I really should be letting the staff know.”

  Daniel shooed him out of the way, heading out into the corridor while Adam cried out impossible directions. It felt a little odd being pointed by a child hanging onto his ears, but Adam wasn’t a heavy burden and they were quickly in the midst of the search.

  It took over an hour for them to inspect each of the chambers in the family wing and decide on a likely grouping. John picked a corner chamber with a turret window overlooking the west fields. After some consideration, James and Adam decided they would share the larger chamber next door for the time being, as it had a connecting door to a chamber that could be used as a playroom. With some relief, Cynthia settled on the chamber opposite theirs and next to John’s. The single large, south-facing window let in plenty of light and when she looked out, she could see the rose gardens below. The yellow and green bed hangings and upholstery on the chairs and stool near the white stone fireplace made the room seem much cheerier than the master bedchamber. The only problem was that Daniel chose the chamber next door. He caught her eyeing the connecting door with obvious misgivings. As the boys discussed where they would put their few belongings, he drew her aside, hoping to calm her fears once and for all.

  “Inte
resting architecture, don’t you think?” He nodded toward the offending door.

  She managed a polite smile. “I suppose it was to allow visiting couples to reach each other more easily.”

  “Undoubtedly. But the Lewistons of the past were a practical lot. Just in case the couples weren’t all that interested, the door can be locked from either side.” He reached up over the doorjamb and took down the brass key that was kept there. “Here. You keep the key. If you ever need me, just use it.”

  She paled again, and for a moment he thought he had gone too far.

  “You are too good to us, Daniel,” she breathed, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I promise you, I’ll repay you somehow.”

  Adam dashed up suddenly, hugging Daniel around the legs. “This is the best day yet, Mr. Daniel. We have our own rooms and we get to be with you always.”

  Daniel felt the now familiar constriction near his heart. He glanced from Adam’s beaming face to Cynthia’s watery smile. “Believe me, my dear, you already have.”

  SEVEN

  Cynthia’s watery mood barely lasted through the first course of lunch. It seemed impossible to believe that after nearly ten years of exile, she was finally to have the pampered, comfortable life for which she had been raised. The very thought made her feel a bit like a traitor to Nathan’s memory, but the sight of veal on her plate for lunch somehow pushed the guilt away with the memory. If she had to trade love for a mess of porridge, at least it was to be very good porridge.

  Of course, that’s what she had assumed. It was well known that the Lewiston estate boasted a real French chef, and she had naturally supposed that the food would be beyond anything she had ever tasted. One mouthful made her reach for the damask napkin in dismay. Farther up the long table, which could easily have seated thirty, she saw that Adam was attempting to push the overcooked peas around his plate with his utensils and only succeeding in mashing them further. Across from him, James was chewing the cheddared potatoes, although with difficulty, and near Daniel, John had pushed the Yorkshire pudding away in disgust. Only Daniel at the head of the table was calmly eating as if nothing untoward was happening.

  “Is this normal fare?” she called up from the foot of the long table, where her place had been set.

  Daniel swallowed and nodded. “Seems to be Henri’s favorite lunch. I believe we have it on a regular basis.”

  “Every Wednesday, sir,” Evenson supplied from his station at the side table, although Cynthia thought even he looked disgusted by the fact.

  “Every Wednesday?” John gasped. James swallowed, then reached quickly for water to drown the lump. Adam smashed the last pea triumphantly.

  Daniel glanced around at the obviously displeased faces around him. “Don’t you care for it?”

  Cynthia’s frown turned the boys’ eyes back to their plates. “I’m sure it’s quite adequate, Daniel. The boys and I have learned to make do with far less. However, I admit I’m curious. Do you like it?”

  Daniel glanced down at the gray lump that was the veal. “To tell you the truth, I’ve never actually thought about it. Luncheon and any other meal was just something to get through.”

  Cynthia felt a sudden stab of pity. She could picture him rattling about this great house, conducting his estate duties alone, eating alone, reading himself to sleep alone, and waking up alone to do it all over again. She might not be able to keep him company at night, but she could certainly make sure that his home was clean and his food edible.

  “I think it’s safe to say we can do something about this,” she smiled to everyone at the table. “Evenson, I shall want a word with Mr. Henri this afternoon.”

  Evenson cringed. “Of course, madame. However, I think you should know that Monsieur Henri takes a nap every day from noon to three, and then of course he’s busy with the dinner preparations, so perhaps I might suggest...”

  “One o’clock,” Cynthia smiled, but the boys had the good sense to lower their eyes once again. “In the library.” Evenson swallowed, and bowed himself out.

  She didn’t wait until one. Once she saw that the boys were safely engaged in a protracted tour of the picture gallery with Daniel and one of the more trustworthy-looking footmen, she changed from the soft pink wedding gown Jonathan had magnanimously purchased for her into her mourning gown. She had hoped never to don the thing again, but it was guaranteed to look far more serious than the pink gown and she needed to look as serious as possible for this interview. She supposed she ought to meet all the servants at some point or at least discuss arrangements with Evenson. For now, she would have to settle for handling “Monsieur Henri.”

  She hadn’t reached the ground-floor landing before she heard the shouting. The fact that it was in French and filled with a considerable number of words her mother had never taught her only caused her chin to rise a few more inches. She followed the noise down the back stairs and swept into the kitchen. The scullery maids huddled by the door scattered. Evenson withdrew to a discreet distance, and the two footmen who had been attempting to restrain the portly chef dropped their arms and bowed to her. She smiled sweetly, then stepped forward, holding out her hand.

  “Monsieur Henri, I came as soon as I could.”

  She knew the other servants were exchanging glances of puzzlement. Her appeasing attitude stopped the Frenchman in mid-tirade. She continued before he could recover. “My dear sir, you cannot know how delighted I am to be so fortunate to have an artiste of your caliber on my staff. Je suis enchanté!”

  She knew her French, though rusty, was near perfect. The little man’s head came up, and a look of delight spread across his pasty face. “I assure you, madame, the honor is all mine.”

  “Oh, but you are too kind. A man of your skill, here, is nothing short of miraculous.” With the other servants wide-eyed about her, she stepped closer and lowered her voice, continuing in French. “I realize, of course, that my husband must have been a sad trial to you. His palate, alas, is not very refined, non? But I assure you, I will be a much more discerning judge.”

  The Frenchman swallowed, catching the steel behind her velvet words as she had hoped he would. “I will attempt to please, madame, of course.”

  “I know you will. I will expect recommendations from you each Monday morning for every meal in the week to follow. We will meet in the library at precisely eight. I ask that you consider we are feeding three young boys with unschooled palates as well as two adults. Given that this is Wednesday, I will waive the recommendations for this week. I hope you will use this time to show me exactly how skilled you are.”

  “Oui, madame,” Henri muttered, breaking into a sweat.

  “Excellent. And Henri, if you ever serve my husband the slop you provided for lunch today, it will be the last day you serve my husband. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Oui, madame,” he managed in a choked whisper.

  Cynthia beamed at everyone around her, switching back to English. “It was delightful to meet you, monsieur. I know our home will be better for having you here.” She nodded to the others and swept out of the room.

  Once back in her new bedroom, she sank down on the embroidered stool near the empty fireplace and broke into delighted laughter. The look on Monsieur Henri’s face had been priceless, but the shocked look on Evenson’s usually impassive face had been even better. That should teach the man to treat her Daniel with anything less than respect!

  She choked on her laughter. Her Daniel? What was she thinking? For that matter, what was she doing meddling in his affairs? She was acting as giddy as the child she had once been. Daniel Lewiston had been master of this house for years. What right had she to walk in her first day and order his staff around? True, the cook had been shirking his duties, but was it her place to correct him? She was mistress of this house under the flimsiest of pretenses. By this evening, she had no doubt every servant as well as most of her neighbors would know that the Master and Mistress of Lewiston House kept separate rooms. While this wasn’t unheard of amon
g the gentry, it still made her feel guilty that she somehow wasn’t repaying his kindness. She supposed she would simply have to get used to the idea that the best thing she could do for Daniel Lewiston was to ensure that he had a well-run household.

  With this thought in mind, she approached Daniel in the withdrawing room that evening after a much improved dinner. James was reading aloud a book he had found in Daniel’s “excellent” library to a rapt Adam, and John was sitting on the hardwood floor with knees to chest, staring dreamily into the fire. She sat down next to Daniel on the nearby sofa and lowered her voice so as not to disturb her sons.

  “Thank you for being so good to us,” she murmured, gathering courage from the smile he gave her back. “I have been thinking about our lives here, and I wondered if you’d mind if I made a few changes?”

  His smile deepened. “If they’re anything like the change you made in Monsieur Henri, I’d be delighted. That was the best dinner I think I’ve ever had.”

  She blushed. “Your chef and I simply reached an understanding. I don’t know if I’ll have such luck elsewhere.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Daniel encouraged her. “What else do you wish to change?”

  “Well, for one thing, would you mind if we sat a little closer at the dining table?”

  He chuckled. “It is a bit of a shout when we try to converse. I’ll tell Evenson to set all five places near the head. What else?”

  “Do you think the boys might have a tutor?” she ventured.

  Daniel nodded. “Certainly. Although I wondered about Mr. Wellfordhouse’s classes at the vicarage. They’d have a chance to meet other children that way. The class is small now, but it will grow once we have the school built.”