by Gayle Buck
“I am only happy that you have come, Miss Wainwright. Mrs. Townsend, poor lady, must already rest easier knowing that you mean to handle the house for her,” said Mrs. Crumpet.
“Thank you, Mrs. Crumpet.” Miranda smiled at the couple and left the kitchen. She made her way upstairs to her bedroom, where she proceeded to unpack her belongings and to change her travel dress for a plain stuff gown.
It had already grown dark since Miranda and Crumpet had finished touring the house and she laid aside her immediate inclination to inspect the gardens. She would save that treat for the morning.
Miranda had noticed earlier that the dining room was in a better state than many of the other rooms. As she made her way downstairs she thought that she could probably make the dining room presentable in time for the evening meal. With a light heart she set herself to dealing with the general disarray. She removed the dust covers and sheets shrouding the long walnut table and high-backed chairs. With zeal and a feather duster she swept away the film that had gathered on the sideboard and its accoutrements, straightening as she went.
When she had finished she rang the bell rope to summon Crumpet, who surveyed the dining room with obvious astonishment. Miranda laughed at his expression. “I wish to have dinner served in here tonight, if you please, Crumpet. Master Robert and Constance will join me.”
“Aye, Miss Wainwright. I shall inform Mrs. Crumpet,” said the butler, permitting himself a smile. It did his spirits good to see this small evidence that the fortune of Willowswood was on the mend.
Miranda ran lightly upstairs to change and to inform Constance of the treat in store for them.
Dinner was not a protracted event. The boy was nodding toward the end of the meal and Miranda waved aside Crumpet’s offer of coffee. “Thank you, but no. I daresay we are all of us exhausted this evening, what with all the unexpected happenings of the day. I myself am contemplating an early bedtime.”
“And I also, Miss Miranda,” said Constance. She glanced down at the snoring boy. “As for the young gentleman, I do not think we shall hear much objection.”
Miranda laughed, her eyes warm in expression as she gazed at her small cousin. “Indeed, Constance. Wake him and I shall help you get him safely into bed.” As she left the dining room, Miranda bade Crumpet a good night, which he returned with a bow. She and Constance left the dining room with Robert staggering between them.
Crumpet proceeded to clear the table and snuff the candles. He was vastly content. Order had once more come to Willowswood.
* * *
Chapter 6
The morning began early for Miranda. She took charge of Robert directly after breakfast to enable Constance to undertake some of the household duties with Mrs. Crumpet. Though Robert seemed willing enough to go with her, Miranda could easily measure the defiance in the boy’s eyes. She decided her best course would be to enlist his help in familiarizing herself with the environs of Willowswood.
She and Robert spent the entire morning out of doors, which seemed to defuse the boy’s latent anger. They inspected the stables, where Miranda met the laconic groom and learned that there were two horses broken to harness as well as a mount for riding. The horses were restless, suffering from lack of proper exercise. With the groom’s qualified approval, Miranda suggested to Robert that he might like to become something of an apprentice trainer under the groom’s supervision and exercise the horses on a daily basis.
The boy’s eyes lit up. “Oh, may I indeed?”
Miranda nodded gravely. “Mind now, you are to listen to Jenkins. He knows just how to get along with horses and probably can show you all sorts of tricks,” she said. The groom gruffly confirmed this and Robert promised quickly that he would be a model apprentice. It was agreed that he would begin his apprenticeship that very afternoon. And that ought to direct his energies for at least part of each day, thought Miranda with satisfaction.
When she and Robert left the stables, the boy was skipping with excitement. Miranda smiled down into his glowing eyes and listened to his eager tumbled words. It was difficult to believe that this was the same boy who had so dragged his feet when he learned that he was to be in her company that morning. She thought that she could learn to like this small cousin of hers well whenever he was in so bright a mood.
Robert guided her next to the gardens. Miranda was amazed and delighted to discover no hint of the awful neglect that afflicted the house. The ordered beds of roses, pinks, lavender, violets, and other familiar flowering plants considerably lifted her spirits.
The old gnarled gardener proved to be a sardonic, stubborn individual who cared for little else outside his own domain. He was occupied in trimming back the box hedges and had little inclination to even acknowledge his visitors’ presence. He accepted Miranda’s compliments on the care he lavished on the garden with a snort. “Miss Claridge was always one to insist on order,” he said shortly. The only time he paused in his task was to point out the herb garden when Miranda expressed an interest.
“What a fusty old gaffer,” said Robert judiciously. Miranda had to agree with him, but she was willing also to give the gardener his due. As she and Robert made their way in the direction of the herb garden, she had begun to realize from the curve of the carefully tended walkways and the layout of the flowers and shrubbery that they traversed an old-fashioned knot garden.
The herb garden was also set out in a knot but not in so intricate a design. Miranda soon discovered several old friends among the herbs. The medicinal herbs were separated from those with culinary uses. She showed Robert how to crush a leaf between his fingers or to brush his hands over the chamomile, sage, rosemary, and various other herbs to release their heady scents. His face expressed open astonishment and pleasure. “I thought it was only flowers that smelled good,” he exclaimed. Eagerly he plunged his hands again into the bright green mints. Miranda laughed at him and ruffled his dark hair.
By luncheon time she had the satisfaction of knowing that she had firmly established the foundation for friendship with the boy. However, her gratification was somewhat impaired when she was reminded by Mrs. Crumpet of the overdue shopping expedition and Robert learned that he was to go along.
“I shan’t! I am to ride horses,” he said willfully.
“When you return from the village you may go to the stables and spend as much time as you like,” said Miranda. She won the ensuing contest of wills, but the victory was hollow when she saw that the happy light in Robert’s eyes had died and was replaced by his former belligerent expression. But she did not retreat from her position and the boy was taken off by Constance to be made ready for the trip.
Miranda paid a visit to Anne, only to find her tired after an indifferent morning. Anne hid another of several yawns with an apologetic glance. “I am so sorry, Miranda. I cannot seem to help myself,” she said.
“Pray do not regard it. You will do better for an afternoon nap instead of listening to me rattling on,” said Miranda, smiling.
“Thank you, Miranda,” said Anne gratefully.
When Miranda returned downstairs she found Constance, Mrs. Crumpet and Robert preparing to step out the door for their shopping expedition. Constance had a firm grasp on Robert, who stood beside her with a mutinous expression. Miranda glanced thoughtfully at the rebellious set of the boy’s firm chin and the martial light in his eyes, then addressed her companion. “Constance, pray look about the village for a sweet shop, won’t you? Perhaps Robert would like a treat; that is, if you deem that his behavior warrants it.”
The boy stared up at her, suspicion and desire warring in his face. Miranda coolly returned his gaze. “I imagine that you can act the gentleman when you wish,” she said.
“Of course I can,” said Robert, puffing out his chest a little.
Miranda nodded. “I am happy to hear it. I have every confidence, then, that you will be a proper escort for Mrs. Crumpet and Mrs. Graves.”
“We shall return with all speed. Miss Miranda,” said Consta
nce, smiling. She no longer held onto Robert with as firm a grip since the boy walked quite willingly out the door with her. Mrs. Crumpet came behind, shaking her head in marvel.
When the party had left, Miranda made her way to the broom closet. She had decided to open a few more rooms off the entrance hall so that morning callers could be comfortably entertained and the drawing room could be used in the evenings. She chose her tools and returned to the main hall, where her eyes were caught first by the bowl of wasted flowers that still drooped dismally over the occasional table. “This will not do,” she said to herself. After dusting the table and gathering up the fallen petals, she took the bowl away and made a quick trip into the garden for fresh blooms. She had returned with bowl and roses and begun to arrange the flowers, humming as she worked when the front door bell rang, startling her so that she nearly dropped the stems in her hands. She stood indecisive a moment, not knowing whether she should answer it. Crumpet would have told her if anyone was expected.
The bell rang again, this time with a distinct touch of impatience. Miranda made up her mind. She set down the roses and went to the door.
Miranda opened the door only enough to enable her to see who had rung the bell with such force. She was startled at the sight of the elegant gentleman on the steps. He was tall and wore a gray multi-caped greatcoat and dark beaver. His boots were polished to a fine mirror finish. Hearing the creak of the door, the gentleman turned quickly. His heavy brows were dark, as were his eyes. His features were handsome, but uncommonly lean and sharply chiseled. He wore an impatient frown, which did not dissipate upon seeing Miranda. If anything, his expression of disapprobation deepened as he swept her with a glance. “Well? Do you mean to keep me standing about all day?” he asked unpleasantly. With one gloved hand he unceremoniously pushed wide the door and entered the hall.
Miranda stumbled back before the gentleman to avoid his quick steps. She stared at him, shocked to speechlessness by his presumptuous air. Her wits seemed to have scattered. She watched dumbly while a valet carried in some trunks and a couple of portmanteaus.
The gentleman started to pull off his leather gloves, glancing about him as he did so. His frown became more pronounced at the dust and general untidiness of the hall. He stepped quickly to one of the doors off the hall and opened it to stare in at one of the shrouded rooms. He apparently did not care for what he saw since he closed the door with a snap and slapped his bunched gloves against one muscular thigh. He turned an angry gaze on Miranda. “I take it that your mistress has not been downstairs in some time, for I assure you that the slack management I see exhibited would not otherwise be tolerated. I do not know your name, nor do I care to. You are relieved of your duties from this moment. I expect you to be out of Willowswood within the hour,” he said harshly.
“What!”
The gentleman had started to turn away, but at Miranda’s startled and indignant exclamation he paused. There was an unpleasant curl about his mouth as he stared down his nose at her. “Did I not make myself perfectly dear, miss? I shall not have a slattern taking advantage of Mrs. Townsend’s illness. If it is a reference you want, perish the thought. You will receive nothing from me and may count yourself fortunate that I do not throw you out on your ear this moment.” After sweeping Miranda with a last indifferent glance, he set his foot to the stairs.
Miranda found her voice and her wits in the same instant. “One moment, sir! I shall take leave to inform you that I am not the housekeeper. And further, I take exception both to your manner and your tone. I should also like to know by what right you barge into this house and so familiarly start up the stairs to the family’s private apartments.”
The gentleman looked down at her from the advantage of the added height of the step. His brows were raised in haughty surprise. “My dear woman, I am Andrew Charles Townsend, Viscount Wythe, Mrs. Townsend’s brother-in-law. I have a perfect right to be here, which is more than I know of you. By your accents I perceive that you are not English-bred, but you do have some education. Perhaps you will enlighten me as to your identity.”
Miranda advanced until she stood at the banister, upon which he had rested his hand when he turned to confront her. Her blue eyes were darkened almost to black with sparkling anger. “I am Miss Miranda Wainwright, Mrs. Townsend’s cousin. I arrived yesterday on a visit from America to find my cousin abed ill, her son untended and uncivilized, and the house as you see it. The house is deserted of servants. Of the household staff only the Crumpets have remained and they are quite unequal to the task of maintaining the household as it should be.”
“And you, being an exceptionally practical young woman, have decided to turn a hand to the housekeeping,” said the viscount with a faintly derisive tone to his voice.
“Do you know, you are a singularly unpleasant, arrogant, and rude man,” said Miranda with studied thoughtfulness. She had the satisfaction of seeing a flash of anger in the viscount’s brown eyes. She swept a brief curtsy. “Pray excuse me if I do not seem overly eager to remain in your company, my lord!” Miranda turned on her heel and left the hall, aware that the gentleman remained on the stair watching her until she had put a door between them.
Once out of the viscount’s disturbing presence, Miranda gave vent to her furious annoyance with a few choice words. She was still seething when she found the butler, who was in the room off the kitchen polishing the silver. “Mr. Crumpet, Viscount Wythe has arrived. He will be upstairs by now visiting with my cousin.”
“His lordship! Why, that is wonderful news, Miss Miranda. We—that is, Mrs. Crumpet and I—had quite despaired of his answering my letter of appeal. I will go up at once and discover what his lordship’s wishes might be,” said Crumpet, hurriedly laying aside the platter he was doing and throwing off his apron.
Miranda saw that Mrs. Crumpet was up to her elbows in flour, working with the day’s fresh bread dough. “I expect that Lord Townsend will wish some tea. I will see to that,” said Miranda, breathing slowly through her nose.
Mrs. Crumpet’s mouth dropped open a little and she glanced at her husband. The butler hesitated, made uncertain both by Miranda’s offer and the unusual agitation in her demeanor. “Miss Wainwright, I am not certain that it is at all the thing for a lady such as yourself…”
“Nonsense, Crumpet. I have been taken for a housekeeper and of a sudden it is a role that I fancy. Pray be so good as to direct me to the tea urn and biscuits,” said Miranda with a firmness not to be denied. The butler reluctantly did so, then left her to it. Miranda nosed about the kitchen and pantry, as much to familiarize herself with the location of things as to discover something more filling than biscuits for a gentleman’s tea. However much she had disliked Viscount Wythe on the first acquaintance, she would not allow it to interfere with her sense of what was proper. She found some slivers of cold pork left over from a previous meal and added the meat to the tea tray along with some thick slices of fresh bread.
Miranda carried the heavy tea tray into the dining room. She was pouring the tea when Viscount Wythe was shown in by the butler. Lord Townsend had somewhere shed his beaver and greatcoat. He was dressed in an admirably fitted fawn coat and tight buckskins. His startlingly white cravat, intricately tied and held with a sapphire stickpin, was in pleasing contrast to his browned countenance and dark curly hair. But Miranda was in no mood to appreciate the gentleman’s physical appeal. He advanced across the room to place his hands on the back of one of the dining chairs. “I fancy that I owe you an apology, ma’am. My sister-in-law seems quite grateful for your presence,” he drawled.
Miranda measured him with a cool glance. “Indeed, sir? I am naturally gratified by the intelligence.” She gestured at the meager tea spread on the table. “Your tea, my lord. Pray excuse me now, for I have several tasks to attend to.” She picked up the empty tray.
“Pray will you not keep me company, Miss Wainwright? I believe that there is much that we should perhaps discuss concerning Willowswood,” said Lord Townsend.
His tone was not conciliatory. On the contrary, Miranda detected almost a note of command in his request and she bristled at it. However, what the viscount had said was undoubtedly true. The situation at Willowswood was an unusual one, to say the least. “Very well, my lord.” Miranda set down the tray and accepted the chair that the viscount pulled out for her with a murmur of thanks. She folded her hands and waited while he went around the corner of the table to seat himself before the tea and food.
Lord Townsend did not speak until after he had made himself a sandwich and washed down the first few bites with some tea. Then he said, “Miss Wainwright, I did not realize until arriving how dire the situation is at Willowswood. Crumpet’s letter naturally alluded to the exodus of the servants but I had put that down to the sort of exaggeration meant to impress. When I saw the state of the place I was appalled. You may then imagine my fears that my sister-in-law had been equally neglected.”
“Fortunately that has not been the case. The Crumpets have been quite conscientious in that regard. They have also done their best in regards to the boy, but I fear with far less success,” said Miranda.
The viscount shot her a frowning stare. “I seem to recall your mentioning my nephew before in rather disparaging terms. Pray elaborate, Miss Wainwright.”
“When I arrived, your nephew was nowhere to be found and Crumpet was out scouring the estate for him. I gathered from Mrs. Crumpet that it was not an unusual occurrence and indeed, upon meeting Robert later, I ascertained that he has been quite a handful. He was unkempt and obviously wearing the same clothing that he had the day before. He was also rather surly in manner, quite unlike what I imagined a child of my cousin’s to be,” said Miranda. “However, I believe that there has already been some progress made. I let Master Robert know that his mother had given over some responsibility for him to me and proceeded to demonstrate what that would mean. At my behest, my maid and Mrs. Crumpet placed Master Robert in the bath. This afternoon they have taken him to the village and he was made aware before they left that if he minded his manners, he should be bought a treat. I fancy that that, as well as the time I spent with him this morning, will influence him somewhat.”