“Pardon me,” Clement said, and cleared his throat.
The conversation fell silent and the group turned to regard Clement in stunned surprise.
“Mr. Midgley,” Clement said, drawing himself up to his full height, which was middling at best. “I have been tasked with informing you that in light of the new arrival to the household, Lord Devereux and his brother have decided that Mr. Devereux shall be establishing a household of his own and a more permanent residence at his Herefordshire estate, and your name has been put forward for the role of butler.”
Jaws fell open and glances were swiftly exchanged, but no one spoke, not even to whisper, as they all hung upon Mr. Midgley’s imminent response.
Mr. Midgley gaped like a fish. He was a plain man with a round face and no particular distinguishing features. Of average height and with the beginnings of a stout belly, Mr. Midgley was possessed of the particular sort of bland respectability of which nothing extraordinary is expected. From what Clement knew of him, he was reasonably competent at maintaining the household operations which Head Butler Greene dictated, and went about his tasks with no more and no less diligence than what was expected of him.
No immediate response seemed to be forthcoming, so Clement took it upon himself to fill the silence. “You are of course welcome to decline, if you prefer to continue your own position in Lord Devereux’s household. Herefordshire is, after all, very remote.”
“To… to be sure,” said Mr. Midgley, smoothing down his waistcoat over his belly and coming to his senses. “I am honoured that Mr. Devereux would think of my own humble self for the position.”
He didn’t, Clement thought, but he kept the remark behind his teeth.
“I will of course accept. At once. I… hrm. Hrm.” Mr. Midgley pressed his lips together and creased his brow in thought.
“Shall I take the liberty,” Clement prompted him, “of sending word ahead to Gennerly House of our imminent arrival? I am certain that the existing staff will wish to know, so that they may prepare the residence in anticipation of your exacting standards.”
“Ah, of course!” Mr. Midgley said, visibly relieved by the suggestion of this course of action. “How thoughtful of you, Mr. Adair. Yes, do so at once.”
“Do you suppose we will want to expand the existing staff of Gennerly House with additional persons from London? I do imagine that we can at least rely upon the presence of Mrs. Devereux’s personal maid, Miss Lockwood, to fill out our ranks.”
“Ah!” Mr. Midgley said, and pressed his hand over his mouth in contemplation. “Let me think.”
The staff around them watched all this in fascination. Someone tittered and was hushed. Clement summoned all his restraint in order not to glance in the direction of the perpetrator.
“If I recollect correctly,” Clement provided, having made it his business to know the vital statistics of Gennerly House, “there is in residence in Herefordshire an existing butler, a housekeeper, a groom of the stables, and surely at least two maids and two footmen.” He expected that Mr. Midgley would at least have the immediate sense to see that such an array filled all the necessary roles of the household, with the possible exception of a cook.
“Just so,” Mr. Midgley agreed. “I do recall that you are correct.”
Clement set his teeth, being very certain that Mr. Midgley recalled no such thing.
“If you’ll dismiss me, sir,” Clement prompted, “I’ll return to my duties and leave you to announce your decision to Lord Devereux and Mr. Devereux as you judge best.”
“To be sure!” Mr. Midgley confirmed, rising to his feet and nodding sagely, as if all of Clement’s suggestions had been entirely his own ideas. “Carry on, my young sir. We’ll be very busy in these coming days!”
Clement replied with a thin smile and a bow, and made his exit before his rising irritation could bubble over into a display of temper.
Chapter 2
“I suppose,” said Hildebert, as Clement buttoned up his waistcoat for him, “that it’s a bit like exile.”
“I’m certain it isn’t as bad as all that,” Clement assured him. He felt, privately, that it was the most dire exile imaginable. “Herefordshire is very picturesque, or so I’ve been told.”
“It is full of sheep and only a few miles removed from being Welsh,” Hildebert said, with a despairing groan.
Clement, being a quarter Welsh on his mother’s side, thought that this was an unfair diminishment upon an entire country. He refrained from comment.
“I always rather thought…” Hildebert began, and sighed. “Well, as you know, Clement. Up until this morning, I was my brother’s heir. I don’t suppose you ever met his first wife, did you? Lovely woman, but barren. I always expected simply that, whenever my brother grew aged, I would have a few pleasant years as Viscount—Hildebert, Viscount Devereux! What a ring it has!—and then, and then, I suppose… well, perhaps I should have a child or two by then, if Jane were so inclined.”
Clement made a noncommittal but encouraging sound to let Hildebert know that he was listening.
“And when he married again… Sarah is very pleasant, very pleasant, though she is so very much younger than him, and…” Hildebert paused, and sighed deeply, wandering toward the window. Clement followed after him, imposing upon his master’s distracted sensibilities as he endeavoured to get Hildebert into his coat. “I knew it was inevitable, Clement. I suppose I must have. The happy news of Sarah’s condition, of course, and she is possessed of such excellent health.”
Coat donned, Hildebert wandered toward the opposite side of the room while Clement followed him with a hair brush.
“An heir!” Hildebert exclaimed, shaking his head. “James has an heir, which means subsequently that I am not his heir. And with Sarah in such glowing health and James still relatively young, there is no reason why he might not have… have…” Hildebert went pale and gazed upon Clement in disbelieving horror. “Further heirs.”
Uncertain whether he was expected to offer sympathy or sense, Clement patted awkwardly at his master’s shoulder as the compromise option. “That does indeed seem to be inevitable.”
“Further heirs,” Hildebert whispered again, mostly to himself. “Clement, what shall we do?”
“We shall,” Clement reminded him, “to Herefordshire.”
“Do you know what the worst of it is, Clement?”
Clement nudged him toward the chair beside the vanity table, where he had laid out the shaving implements. Distracted with despair, Hildebert did not move, and Clement was obliged to manhandle him across the room and down into the chair.
“If I am not the heir,” Hildebert continued, despite Clement’s focus upon his duties, “then neither shall my progeny inherit after me!”
Clement pressed his lips together with long-suffering patience, taking the utmost care to account for any unexpected dramatic movements which Hildebert might feel compelled to make while Clement had a blade in his hand. “Sir,” Clement said, not wanting to make any implications upon Jane Devereux’s age but suspecting that she was nearing the end of her prime childbearing years, “you don’t have any progeny.”
“Well, no,” said Hildebert. “Messy business, all that. Babies. But if I had been the heir, you see, if I had been Viscount, then it would be my duty to continue the line.”
It seemed circumspect not to point out to Hildebert that, according to his original plan, by the time Lord Devereux could be expected to die of old age Hildebert himself would be a mere fifteen years behind the same advanced age and Jane Devereux almost certainly past hope of bearing children.
“My children shall not even inherit Gennerly House,” sighed Hildebert, who still had no children and low probability of developing any. “Upon my death, it reverts not to my heirs but to the younger son of the Viscount Devereux. It should only remain with my own children if the Viscount Devereux has no younger son.”
This all seemed to Clement to be a very complicated mass of hypotheticals, and he focus
ed instead upon finishing the task of shaving his master.
“Perhaps,” Clement suggested, once he had finished and laid his razors safely aside, “Mrs. Devereux herself might have some opinion or insight upon the matter.”
“Oh!” Hildebert said, having in the midst of his despair not considered that his wife might have some say upon the matter of whether or not she wished to bear any of these aforementioned heirs. He nodded with resolute certainty. “Yes, I will speak to her about it. As you do know, Clement, my Jane is most admirably wise.”
“Sir,” Clement said, and took his leave.
Satisfied that Hildebert was appropriately attired to face the day and that a brief but professional letter was on its way to the staff of Gennerly House to alert them to their new circumstances, Clement sought out Mr. Midgley once again.
He found him in the large kitchen, arranging provisions for the journey to Herefordshire in advance of having made any preparation as to the packing or transport of the household. Clement endeavoured to plant the idea in Mr. Midgley’s head of imposing upon Lord Devereux’s generosity for the acquisition of at least one carriage, a footman, and a groom for the transport of Mr. and Mrs. Devereux and all two of their personal attendants. Once that was securely received, he suggested further arrangements for packing and transporting all of Mr. and Mrs. Devereux’s personal effects, and reminded Mr. Midgley not to forget arrangements for transporting himself. While one carriage could potentially fit a married couple of quality with their personal maid and valet, respectively, it almost certainly could not also accommodate a butler.
This all seemed to take root within Mr. Midgley’s mind. Once he had bustled off to put his new ideas into effect, Clement took advantage of a moment’s leisure to see to his own breakfast—now nearer to lunch—and then went in search of his trusted friend and fellow attendant, the irrepressible Letitia Lockwood.
Letty was in the solarium, in what seemed to be a moment of solitary leisure.
Clement had only just felt a surge of gratitude at the opportunity for private conference with Letty when he realised that the unfamiliar, ruffle-draped item of furniture set at her side was in fact a bassinet.
He looked into the contents of the bassinet and grimaced. “Is that a baby?”
Miss Letitia Lockwood, lady’s maid to Mrs. Jane Devereux and native of a borough of London known for its production of sharp tongues and rough edges, rested her chin upon her hand and looked down her fox-sharp nose at him.
“Is it the baby?” Clement clarified.
Letty laughed, eyes lighting with irreverent mirth. “Well it isn’t as though it’s my baby,” she said. “What do you suppose, Clement, that the household has suddenly undergone a profusion of babies? Yes, this is his Honourable Lordship, James Devereux the Third. Did you want a formal introduction or some such nonsense?”
“No.” Clement frowned thoughtfully into the bassinet. His very young lordship seemed to be fast asleep, tiny hands knotted into fists and small face smushed into an expression that looked like skeptical disdain of whatever dream scenario he had just encountered. “I just want to know how it came about that you, of all people, were left in possession of a baby.”
Letty shrugged. “Everyone else is busy.”
After the morning he’d had, Clement could sympathise. He took a seat on a nearby settee, and propped his chin likewise in his hands as the two of them regarded the child. It looked like it had been carved from butter. Fat and pale, with toes tinier than peas.
Several moments passed in silence until Clement suddenly remembered the original purpose of his visit, along with a rather concerning implication. “Don’t tell me you’ve been assigned to be the child’s nurse!”
“Certainly not!” Letty shuddered. “No, to be sure. I’ve only been left watching him for the afternoon, while anyone more qualified is out in search of a permanent nursemaid for the boy. So far his little lordship has done nothing but sleep, which is no trouble at all.”
“And have you been told that we’re being relocated to Herefordshire? You do intend to go, don’t you?”
“Yes, and yes, Clement.” She glanced over at him with a fond, cheshire smile. “Can you imagine? I’ll be lady’s maid to the mistress of the house, and there will be ever so much less work if we aren’t being subjected to a parade of society parties and excursions…”
“But the country, Letty,” Clement groaned.
“And not just any country,” Letty said, with false sympathy and rather more drama than was necessary. “Nearly to Wales.”
“See here,” Clement said, bristling. “Wales is a perfectly respectable country.”
“If you like sheep.”
“Rolling hills,” Clement said, being just as London-bred as Letty and only familiar with the countryside through poetic descriptions.
“There you are, then,” Letty said. “It won’t be so bad.”
Clement scoffed with indignation as he realised she had led him into defending the countryside, and the two friends relapsed into sympathetic quiet.
“Letty,” Clement said, turning his gaze out the window, where the solarium looked out across the rather pleasant trees of Hyde Park. “What if I don’t go?”
“Don’t go?” Letty repeated, wrinkling her nose at this suggestion. “Why, what shall you?”
“I might find another position in London easily enough. So might you, if you so fancied.”
“Stay in London when I have a perfectly good opportunity to escape!” Letty said, and laughed. “Certainly not! In the countryside the air is always as clear as after a proper rain. Clearer, even! And scented with buttercups and bluebells.” She sighed, smiling with lazy pleasure at the prospect.
Clement couldn’t help but smile at her dreamy enthusiasm. “I hope it will be everything you desire, Letty.”
“And what of you?” she asked again. “You’ll stay here, in the smoke and mud of London?”
“If I go to the country, I’ll be a valet forever, Letty.” Clement sighed, gazing down at his hands. He took pride in his hands, keeping them well-manicured and clean. They had none of the rough callouses of the lower servants, but remained as soft as the silks and velvets that he handled in the upkeep of Hildebert’s wardrobe. “Lord Devereux suggested Mr. Midgley in the position of butler, and Mr. Midgley accepted. It ought to have been me, Letty.”
“Oh, aye, you’re fussy enough for it,” Letty said, with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry it was not you. But you’re young yet. You’re still very green, to be a head butler. Even in Herefordshire, I suppose.”
“I know it. And yet I had hoped Hildebert might have thought first of me. If Lord Devereux hadn’t given him the idea of Midgley!” Clement grimaced and shook his head.
“I think you ought to come with us, Clement. You have a good position, and you do honour to it. Hildebert is a good master, and he is fond of you. As am I, and I would be very displeased to lose my dearest friend.”
Chewing at his lower lip, Clement relaxed back into his chair and considered the conundrum. “But I do not want to be packed off to the Styx, Letty,” he said.
Letty shrugged.
“Letty?” Jane Devereux called, as she entered the room.
Clement scrambled to sit up into something resembling a respectable posture. From the way Mrs. Devereux’s lips pursed together and quirked to the side in amusement, he did not think he’d succeeded in doing so before being noticed.
Mrs. Devereux stood several inches above the height that it was considered decorous for women of quality to grow and was plumper than the whims of fashion dictated, with ordinary brown hair and a round face. And yet Clement knew that she enjoyed a lively social circle, and he had seen on many occasions that her warm smile and spirited humour could brighten any room, which made her well-liked among London society just as her generosity and patience toward the working-class made her well-loved among her servants.
“Oh, so you do have the baby,” Jane Devereux remarked, leaning over the
bassinet to regard her sleeping nephew-in-law. “He’s a sound sleeper. What an admirable quality for a baby to cultivate!”
Letty turned her laugh into a choked cough. Jane gave her a conspiratorial smirk, and sat down on a chair between the two of them as though they were equals. She rested her elbows upon her knees, and leaned forward to regard the baby.
Clement kept his spine straight out of respect while Letty continued to lounge.
“I hear we’re being exiled to the countryside,” Jane commented.
“Clement was just telling me what a very respectable countryside it is,” Letty remarked. “Rolling hills and all.”
Jane laughed, and glanced over at Clement. “Have you been to Herefordshire?”
“No, ma’am.”
She nodded, returned her attention to the baby, and sighed wistfully. “We were married there, did you know that? It seems terribly long ago, now.”
“Did you like the Gennerly House estate, ma’am?” Letty asked, sitting forward with interest.
“Do you know, I rather did. Don’t tell Hildebert, although I do think he liked it also. We weren’t there for long. Lord Devereux invited us to London hardly more than a year after our marriage, and it’s been a swirl of society life ever since.” She shook her head, and leaned back in her chair. “Well. What are the three of us going to do with a baby?”
“Give it back to its mother and its new nursemaid in prompt order, I do hope,” Letty said.
Jane laughed, her smile half mischievous and half wistful. “And then we pack.”
“And then we pack,” Clement confirmed. “I believe it will be us four and Mr. Midgley making the journey.”
“Not in one carriage, I hope,” Jane remarked, lifting her brows.
“I, ah, expressed to Mr. Midgley my strong recommendation that he plan adequate transportation for the four of us and himself,” Clement said.
The Valet and the Stable Groom Page 2