The Valet and the Stable Groom

by Katherine Marlowe

  “You might not have made an enemy of the housekeeper on our first day,” Clement said, depositing two puppies into the basket and then lifting the basket off the floor to lower their chances for escape.

  Mr. Midgley was still standing frozen by the torn curtain, holding the canine culprit. Clement took that puppy from his hands, added it to the basket, and placed the basket into Mr. Midgley’s hands. “I think you’d best hold that, Mr. Midgley,” he said.

  “Ah,” said Mr. Midgley, opening his mouth on a possible objection, but Clement had already let go of the basket, leaving him stuck with it.

  “Letty, how many puppies are there? I have six.”

  “Eight,” Letty said, retrieving the seventh puppy from underneath a chair.

  “Eight!” Clement said. “Did you really have to bring all eight?”

  “Clement, we agreed you weren’t going to scold.”

  “You agreed I wasn’t going to scold,” Clement said. He looked around at a loss for the eighth puppy until he saw the mother dog retrieving the last one from behind a curtain. “There, that’s eight. Take them upstairs, I’ll see what can be done about setting the room to rights.”

  Mr. Midgley once again opened his mouth to object, thought the better of it, and went off upstairs with Letty and the basket.

  It took only a quarter of an hour to fetch a pair of maids and restore the room to a civilised state. Clement helped as best he could with setting the furniture to rights, and the puddle on the stone floor was easy to clean. Only the empty space of the curtain remained as an accusatory reminder of the incident. The lace was taken away to be mended, but Clement did not imagine that the gauzy material would be possible to fully repair.

  Despite Mrs. Ledford’s wrath, Clement found that he agreed with Letty. The puppies would be just the thing to cheer Hildebert and Jane, if only temporarily, and it might do them good if either felt inclined to take a pet. Somewhere upstairs, his master and mistress would be laughing with Letty and the basket of puppies. If he went up, he would be gladly received into the mirth.

  And yet he didn’t want to join them. He’d come all this long way, but he wasn’t certain that he wished to stay. It would be easy enough to acquire a copy of a London paper, and to apply to some posting he found therein. He had friends back in London, and might write to them to ask that they watch the papers on his behalf and post at once to any position that suited his skills.

  It wasn’t too late. He wasn’t trapped here.

  Leaving the two maids to finish tidying the room, Clement stepped through the sunroom door and out onto the lawn. It was bright but cold, and the fresh spring grass was wet with dew.

  Duties awaited him back at the house. Hildebert might need something at any time, and here he was, away from his rooms, away from the servants’ kitchen, away from anywhere that the bell marked Valet might ring if Hildebert required him.

  His steps carried him to the edge of the pond. A mallard swam in little circles with a tail of ducklings.

  Fat clouds dolloped the sky, one of them scuttling in front of the sun and casting the world in greyer shades of green and brown. Across the pond and the rest of the lawn Clement could see a stand of trees that might be as shallow as a grove or as deep as a forest. Hildebert’s lands. Clement found he didn’t know if the land was rich in flora or fauna, if there were valuable metals in the soil or if the grass grew particularly stout for grazing. Mr. Midgley would need to know such things, or else Hildebert would need a steward to oversee his lands and revenue.

  The cloud moved past, and Clement realised he didn’t know how long he’d been standing at the edge of the pond. He turned his steps instead toward the glass walls of the conservatory.

  The glass panes were grubby and smudge. They needed to be thoroughly cleaned, with the sort of attention that would make the faceted panes of the conservatory glitter. A conservatory, in Clement’s mind, ought to shine like a diamond with a heart of an orange tree.

  Inside, he found the glass house to be warm. The heavy humidity was thicker even than the dew-rich clime outside. The array of plants within stretched up toward the glass ceiling, all of them thick with leaves. He remembered meeting the gardener—a woman, which was unusual, but she’d said to Hildebert that her father had been a gardener before her—and found himself impressed by the health of the conservatory flora.

  At the heart of the conservatory was a round tiled space, framed with a watery parenthetical on either side by a pair of crescent-shaped pools. He glimpsed into one and saw a scattering of small lily pads and goldfish. At the centre of the space was a pretty cast-iron table, painted white, with a pair of matching chairs set on either side. It was the sweetest place Clement had ever seen for taking tea in any season, amidst the leafy abundance of the conservatory.

  The table was overtaken by a tray of little pots with seedlings waiting, and had become more of a workspace than a retreat, but it wouldn’t take much to restore it. It would serve as a very charming and romantic surprise for Hildebert and Jane, if he wished to prepare one. He could drape the table with a lace cloth and line the edge of the pools with candles to make the room into a fairy bower.

  He discarded the idea almost as quickly as it had occurred. For the time being, he wanted to leave the conservatory as he’d found it. It was as quiet as a secret, and he didn’t yet wish to surrender it to the spirited laughter and antics of Letty and Jane.

  “Excuse me,” someone said.

  Clement spun about with a start. He was caught idling, away from the house and his duties. Sundays were his day of leisure, and it was only Tuesday.

  A man stood in the conservatory, on one edge of the central ring. He was of moderate height, with unruly dark-brown hair. The golden-brown tan of his skin proclaimed him to be an outdoor labourer. A wry, apologetic smile hung upon his lips, showing a glimpse of straight white teeth, and Clement found himself arrested by the gruff charm that the stranger projected.

  “This might seem an odd question,” said the man in the conservatory, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck, “but have you seen a litter of puppies?”

  Clement’s mouth fell open, and then he flushed, recognising the stranger as the head groom of the stables. What was his name? Harren? Hodgson?

  Letty must have whisked away the puppies without having consulted their keeper.

  “Oh dear,” Clement said.

  The groom laughed, striding forward to join Clement upon the centre tiles. “I take that to mean that you do know something about my best dog’s missing puppies?”

  “And the missing dog, I imagine,” Clement said. He wrinkled his nose apologetically. “Yes. Miss Lockwood fetched them up to Mr. and Mrs. Devereux. They are… inside the house.”

  The groom gave a gruff cough, pressing his fist to his mouth to stifle it. “Are they? Has Ledford had anything to say about that?”

  Clement grimaced. “Mrs. Ledford was not best pleased.”

  “Give her a wide berth and she’ll settle down in an hour or so,” the groom said. “She’s possessed of a harsh temper, but not so much that she would ever let it impede upon her responsibilities. Mr. Adair, was it?”

  The groomsman’s good humour set Clement at his ease despite himself, and Clement couldn’t help but smile. His attitude made it seem as though the threat of Mrs. Ledford’s ill-humour and the incident of the missing puppies were harmlessly amusing and entirely manageable circumstances.

  “Clement Adair,” he answered, offering his hand in greeting.

  “Hugo Ogden. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Adair.”

  Hugo’s hand was warm and steady, and Clement felt as though he’d suffered a loss when it was retracted and the stable groom retreated to the polite space of a step and a half away.

  “Ah,” said Hugo, his apologetic and amused smile returning as the silence between them stretched a little too long. “Where inside the house?”

  Befuddled, Clement blinked at him, trying to make sense of the query so that
he could offer his usual diligent assistance. “Pardon?”

  “The puppies.”

  “Oh!” Clement startled, having forgotten the puppies whilst under the spell of Mr. Ogden’s smile. “Just this way, Mr. Ogden,” he said, hardly about to direct the stable groom to their mistress’ chambers alone.

  Clement felt oddly melancholy as they departed the conservatory. He wished to return to his moment of quiet introspection, and the thoughts that had been stirring in his mind, but he also wanted to retain the pleasure of Hugo’s company. The threat of Mrs. Ledford’s potential wrath had been diminished by Hugo’s presence, which cast a rose-gold glow over everything. As long as Hugo remained alongside him, the unimaginable task of decorously retrieving a basket of puppies from their mistress’ rooms seemed like a perfectly ordinary endeavour.

  As they entered the sunroom, Clement turned toward the main front stair which he, as one of the upper servants, habitually used. Hugo caught his wrist.

  The grip was light, but it was enough to make Clement pause and turn his head.

  Hugo nodded to the side hall which would lead to the back stairwell. Less likely, Clement supposed, to encounter Mrs. Ledford. He nodded, and they made their way quietly along the hall and up the stairs.

  The hand on his wrist remained, half-forgotten, as they navigated the lower hall, and only released as they reached the stairs. Clement wanted to reach for him and clasp his hand again. Hugo projected such gruff good humour and steady warmth that being around him felt like sipping tea by a cozy fire, but there was of course no polite reason to take his hand.

  Laughter trickled out from the door to Mrs. Devereux’s room. Clement paused in the hall and tapped at the door, awaiting permission to enter.

  Within, they found the room in something of a shambles, with master and mistress of the house both seated on the floor while the puppies tumbled and explored around their laps and the nearby furniture.

  “Clement!” Hildebert exclaimed with delight, sitting with one fat puppy dozing in his lap and another one tugging ferociously at his coat sleeve. Clement winced on behalf of the coat. “And … Mr. Ogden?”

  “At your service,” Hugo replied, and bowed. “I hope my charges have been well behaved?”

  “Your… oh!” Hildebert said. “Dear me, I never thought to wonder where the puppies had come from. Are they ours?”

  “They are,” said Hugo, kneeling by the mother dog and ruffling her floppy brown ears. “This is Constance, who is, if I may say so, the best dog in your stables. The dogs are bred for herding, since we have a surfeit of sheep in these parts, but I’d be glad to train some hunting dogs if you have such an inclination.”

  “No, no, I’m afraid that I’m a disaster on horseback. Though they are such noble animals! I’m sorry that you shan’t be kept very busy on my account. As long as the carriage horses are handsome, I leave the stables entirely to your command, my good Mr. Ogden. Constance, you said? What an excellent dog!”

  “Mr. Ogden,” said Jane. An attentive puppy sat in her lap, watching all the conversation with as much polite interest as Clement had seen from well-bred debutantes. “Would you allow me to take one of the dogs as a pet?”

  Hugo’s smile was flattered and confused at once. Clement wanted to make a catalogue of his smiles. “My lady, all of the dogs are yours. You may do with them as you please.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Jane said, gently ruffling the ears of the puppy in her lap. The animal looked up at her and panted quietly. “But I know very little about dogs and I should need your guidance as to their training. Do you believe that this one would make a good pet?”

  “That one is possessed of an excellent disposition and a clever mind,” Hugo said. He beamed with satisfaction. “It would be my pleasure to advise you on the subject, Mrs. Devereux.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  “She does not. The task falls to you to name her.”

  Jane considered the puppy, lifting her paws and regarding her nose to nose.

  “Titania, I think,” she declared at last. “Which will suit her well whether she behaves as a queen or if she does some manner of mischief.”

  “Titania it is,” Hugo declared, and the two of them entered into an extensive discussion of the proper care of a house dog.

  Clement decided that it would be best not to mention Mrs. Ledford’s inevitable disapproval. He felt odd standing at formal attention while his master, mistress, and two other servants lounged about on the floor, but the prospect of joining them seemed impossibly forward.

  He busied himself with herding puppies, keeping them mostly out of trouble. The puppies were moving slower now that they’d had over an hour’s worth of adventure, and most of them were now either napping or wobbling about in sleepy exploration. Clement returned as many as he could to the basket.

  It was a relief when Jane at last declared she was hungry and sent Letty to ring for lunch. Hugo gathered up the basket of puppies, including Titania.

  “She’ll need to stay with her mother until she’s been weaned,” Hugo explained. His smile was gentle and fond, and Clement paused in the process of straightening a cushion to stare. “As soon as she’s old enough to be away from Constance, I’ll bring her back, and until then you’re welcome to visit her in the stables. I don’t imagine it will be more than a week or two from now.”

  “I trust entirely to your expertise,” Jane said.

  Clement reached for the basket, wanting an excuse to stay with Hugo a little longer, in hopes that he might witness more of his smiles. “I’ll help you to the stables.”

  “Clement?” Hildebert said.

  Heart sinking, Clement put his most professional demeanour in place and turned about. “Sir?”

  “I think I will take a turn about the gardens after lunch. Will you lay out my walking suit?”

  Not allowing his disappointment to show on his face, Clement bowed. It was hardly surprising that Hildebert might require something of him after Clement had left him unattended for half the morning.

  As he walked past Hugo without a glance, he could feel the groom’s presence as tangibly as heat from a hearth, radiating good-natured warmth indiscriminately unto his surroundings. Clement’s cheeks were hot when he reached the hallway, though his hands were cold. He clasped them, hesitating for just a moment before he roused himself to his duty and strode off to obey.

  Chapter 4

  It began to rain the next day, vacillating between a spitting drizzle and a steady downpour.

  Clement spent the morning running up and down the stairs on small tasks to ameliorate Hildebert’s boredom.

  Where was the latest issue of the Gentleman’s and London Magazine? Had it been left in the carriage?

  It had not. Clement was sure of it, but the magazine could not be found, so there was nothing to be done but that Clement must run to the carriage house and check between the cushions in search of it.

  The carriage had been emptied of its luggage and accoutrements, and cleaned. The magazine was nowhere to be found.

  By the time he returned, Hildebert had found the magazine among the bed clothes after—Hildebert now recalled—he had been reading it last night.

  Hildebert wanted a walk, despite the rain, so Clement ran about fetching his oiled greatcoat, gloves, and hat. Armed with an umbrella, Hildebert got only as far as the front door before insisting that perhaps Clement should accompany him, and then there was nothing to be done but that Clement should dress himself for the weather. When they at last ventured outside, the rain had lessened. Hildebert only endured a few bursts of wind before cursing the hellish Welsh rain (sent over the border, it seemed, by Welsh conspiracy) and insisting that they return indoors.

  By lunch, Clement was exhausted.

  While Mr. and Mrs. Devereux lunched, Clement was sent out into the rain in search of Hildebert’s pocket watch. It was not in his pocket, which meant it might have been dropped outside on their brief promenade.

  Clement found
nothing, and itched to make a search of Hildebert’s coat pockets. There was, however, no polite way to suggest such a thing.

  Trying to excuse himself long enough to change out of his wet things, Clement was detained several further to aid in brainstorming activities for after lunch. Only when Jane suggested cards was Hildebert satisfied, and then only once Clement had agreed that he would play and that he would secure Letty likewise to be a fourth player for the game.

  Warm and renewed in dry clothing, Clement leaned against one of the bare walls in his little room and breathed deeply, taking his few minutes of respite while he could find them.

  His window looked out upon the stables by an angle. If he stood to one side of the window, he could see most of the structure. It was a large stable for an estate of this size. Clement supposed it had been built by a former owner of the estate with more inclination toward hunting than Hildebert.

  The bell in his room rang, jangling him out of his reverie. Clement shook his head to clear it.

  Hildebert, Jane, and Letty were waiting at the card table by the time Clement arrived upstairs.

  “Clement! There you are. Come and play.”

  Slightly out of breath from having hurried up the stairs, Clement took his seat at the table and reached for the hand of cards awaiting him. He felt most uncomfortably out of place, having never in his life been called upon to play hands with persons of quality.

  Letty didn’t seem to notice, but Clement already knew that both Letty and Jane were more inclined to spend their evenings playing cards with each other than employed in suitable feminine pursuits like embroidery.

  “What is the game?” he asked, taking up the cards.

  “Whist,” Jane said. “Do you know it?”

  It had been a popular pastime in the servants’ quarters in London. Clement nodded.