“Mr. Ellis is not a servant. He’s a secretary,” Merry corrected her brother.
“Fairy?” Arthur Ellis enquired diffidently, an eye on the Countess. “Whoever said such a thing, Master Ron?”
Ron shrugged a thin shoulder. “Lady Caroline said—”
“—Uncle Salt found Aunt Jane at the bottom of his garden,” Merry interrupted, “amongst the flowers. Cousin Caroline said that’s where fairies take their tea, made from crushed dandelions, and that Uncle Salt picked Aunt Jane because she was by far the prettiest and nicest fairy he—”
“Don’t be a widgeon, Merry! Fairies don’t drink tea. They drink…”
Arthur Ellis took the opportunity in the ensuing argument between the twins about tea and fairies, real or imagined, to seek the Countess’s attention. “My lady, a word in private, if I may,” he asked, a pointed glance at Ron and Merry.
The twins were not so wrapped up in their argument as Arthur Ellis had hoped. The loud chorus of disapproval that greeted his suggestion had Jane up off the window seat and brushing down her petticoats.
“Dear me! What a great noise about very little. No. Stay where you are. The tea things will be here shortly, and so will your cousin Caroline. Mr. Ellis and I will go through to the dressing room. Besides,” she added, picking up a handful of her petticoats and bustling through to her dressing room, “I must find out if Anne has returned. She went on an errand and was away so long I did my own hair. Perhaps she—”
Jane was brought up short in the doorway by the startling sight of her personal maid being stood over by Lady St. John, who had the girl by the upper arm and was giving her a good shake.
“My lady? Why are you in my private rooms?” Jane demanded. “And by what right are you abusing my maid?”
“Your maid, madam, is a thief and a liar,” Diana St. John announced. “She stole something from me of great sentimental value and I want it returned or she’ll hang!”
“My lady, I did not steal—”
“Liar!”
“Unhand her, my lady,” Jane ordered. “It is not your business to seek out my servants and mistreat them, whatever you think they may have done. You come to me with your concerns first.”
“Good Lord! Two minutes a Countess and you are an authority on how to treat miscreant servants? You really should leave such matters to those who have the experience to deal with the likes of this insolent creature.”
“Thank you, but I don’t need your advice.” Jane led her maid a little way off. “Do you have Lady St. John’s property?” she asked gently. “Please, don’t cry. I will believe what you tell me, Anne.”
That brought Anne’s head up and she sniffed. “I did not steal what does not belong to Lady St. John, my lady,” she whispered and stared at the Countess meaningfully, a quick glance at Diana St. John. “Mr. Willis returned the article to his lordship as he was requested to do.”
Jane held the maid’s gaze. “Returned?” When the maid nodded and lightly placed a hand at the base of her throat, Jane understood. “Thank you, Anne.”
“And the blue bottle?” Diana St. John enquired boldly of the maid. “What did you do with the blue bottle?”
Standing behind the Countess, Anne felt brave enough to look Lady St. John in the face. “Mr. Willis has that too, my lady.”
Diana St. John took a step forward, teeth and hands clenched. “That was a singularly stupid thing to do, you little fool!”
“Regardless of your opinion of my maid’s actions, you see that she does not have what it is you want,” Jane answered calmly. “I believe you are required in his lordship’s bookroom…”
“I was sent to fetch you, my lady,” Arthur Ellis said and nervously stepped forward, saying to the Countess with a significant look, “His lordship was particularly desirous of Lady St. John’s company and has been patiently waiting for her in his bookroom.”
Diana St. John’s smile was superior. “To think he spent the entire night at my house and now demands to see me again not so many hours after he left,” she cooed with delight. “You poor wretch, just three months a bride and already he has lost interest. I predicted as much. Those two nights this past sennight that he strayed from your bed—”
“He was with me at Arlington Street,” Sir Antony explained, strolling further into the now crowded dressing room, twirling his quizzing glass on its riband. “Two late sittings of Parliament and dinner both nights with yours truly. He was worn thin, so thin that I was able to persuade him to spend the night in his old rooms. Apologies for keeping him from you, my lady,” he said to Jane with a bow and sidled up to his sister, saying under his breath, “Your mischief–making is as stale as yesterday’s loaf, Di. Give it up before you embarrass yourself further.”
“Milk sop,” Diana St. John hissed and with a swish of her petticoats turned and swept out of the room, saying cryptically on a sigh, “If you want something done, best to do it yourself.”
Unperturbed, Sir Antony shrugged and looked at the secretary. “Three brutes are guarding her ladyship’s sitting room door. Can you enlighten us, Ellis?”
“Please do not be alarmed, my lady,” said the secretary. “The men have been posted on his lordship’s request should Lady St. John attempt to re-enter these rooms at the conclusion of her interview with his lordship. They have been instructed to keep all comers from your door.”
“Fat lot of good they proved to be!” Sir Antony rightly pointed out. “Dratted fellows tried to keep me from joining the tea party, and me dressed in fresh powder and frockcoat. The tea party, I might add, is in full swing out there. Looks like you could use a strong dish of Bohea, Ellis,” he added good-naturedly with a slap to the secretary’s thin back, a wink at Jane as he led Arthur back into the sitting room.
So much for the effectiveness of three burly footmen keeping all and sundry away! Arthur knew when to bow to force majeure. He also knew what was expected of him and quietly perched on a corner of a sofa and gratefully accepted a dish of tea, a beady eye on the Lady St. John, who, far from dashing off to the Earl’s bookroom as requested, had taken it upon herself to sit by the teapot and with the help of her daughter, distribute the dishes of tea and the assortment of almond and ratafia biscuits, seedy and lemon cakes amongst the assembled company.
Jane made no attempt to dislodge Diana St. John to take her rightful place in front of her own tea things, despite her great annoyance that the woman had the bare-faced audacity to remain in her sitting room and assume control of proceedings. Instead, she quietly returned to the window seat and picked up her needlework, deeming it best for all concerned, particularly the twins, to humor Diana St. John; let her believe she was in control if it kept her calm until the Earl had the children away from her. The woman’s openly hostile behavior towards Anne was indication enough that she was more unstable than Jane had at first thought.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she failed to notice the Lady Caroline had taken up residence on the chaise longue, where she sat with Ron, giving Viscount Fourpaws a good scratch behind both ears, until she began verbally sparring with Diana St. John; not the most conducive activity to maintaining a calm environment.
“Does anyone know why Salt’s been in his apartments since forever?” Lady Caroline asked, gathering up her froth of silk petticoats in expectation of Sir Antony sitting beside her. When he chose to warm his hands in front of the fireplace she pouted but pretended not to notice, adding, “Perhaps he’s taking a well-earned nap?” a sickly-sweet smile directed at Diana St. John. “Who can blame him when he was awake most of the night playing at nursemaid.”
Lady St. John selected a sugared plum from a bowl amongst the clutter on the tea trolley. “Caroline, you have no right questioning Salt’s devotion to my son.”
“Oh, it’s not his devotion to Ron that concerns me, Cousin,” Lady Caroline responded, a genuine smile at Ron.
She gave him the kitten and eyed Diana St. John resentfully. She had never cared for Diana, who had made a hab
it of monopolizing her brother’s time and attention since she could remember, and she remembered a great deal. It was only four years since the death of her favorite uncle St. John. He had always taken the time to talk with her as if her thoughts and opinions were important to him, which is how Salt had always treated her, as a person, not as an object to be owned or ignored as if she was part of the furniture, which is how Diana saw her and thus dismissed her existence as unimportant. Thus, it did not matter to Diana that Caroline saw and heard how she mistreated St. John, their heated arguments, the overt flirting with every male visitor to Salt Hall, but most particularly of all how she monopolized Salt’s time and attention, which made Caroline loathe her all the more.
She glanced at the Countess, who was curled up in the window seat with her needlepoint, and saw an opportunity to aggravate Diana where it hurt most. “I love what you have done with the nursery, my lady. And I can’t tell you how happy I am that my brother has finally married because I was despairing of ever becoming an aunt.” She glanced at Sir Antony with a sweet smile that did not deceive him. “Salt will make a wonderfully devoted father to his own brood, don’t you agree, Tony?”
“I am sure he will oblige you, Caro, by filling the nursery to overflowing,” agreed Sir Antony, ignoring the Countess, who blushed up with embarrassment, but not his sister who gave a huff of dismissal. “My dear Diana, swallow a stone?”
“Good! I do so want lots of nephews and nieces,” Lady Caroline responded then changed the subject before Diana, who was glaring at her with slit-eyed hostility, had time to go in for the attack. “Tony, what was it you were saying about Willis? Surely Jenkins has it wrong?”
“Had it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”
“Rufus Willis has been with us since forever,” Lady Caroline argued, puzzled. “He was born at Salt Hall. His father and his grandfather were our stewards. He gave me my first pony ride. And Mamma sent him off to Rugby because he was so bookish. He was meant to go on to Cambridge but then Mamma died and his papa got ill. I said he should talk to Salt. His brain is wasted as an under-butler—”
“Oh, don’t be utterly beetle-brained, Caroline!” Diana St. John said dismissively. “Waste money on a servant’s education? The man should be glad he has a roof over his head.” She gave Merry a plate of almond biscuits to offer Jane. “Care for a little biscuit, my lady?” When Jane instinctively pulled back from the strong smell of almond paste but still managed to smile and say thank you to the little girl for the offer, Diana smiled crookedly. “Perhaps a lemon tart would better suit your palate? Merry! Take this lemon tart to her ladyship.”
“Rufus Willis is one of the most well-read men of my acquaintance,” Jane stated taking a nibble of the lemon tart then putting it aside because she had lost her appetite for sweet pastries. She picked up her needlepoint again. “I hope Salt will do something for him, Caroline.”
“Lord, yes, of your acquaintance, to be sure. You’re as buffle-headed as Caroline!” Diana replied, annoyed Jane had discarded the tart. “Next you’ll be telling us Salt married you for your sweet nature and not because he had a momentary lapse of reason.” She sipped at her tea thoughtfully. “In my experience, unquenchable lust for a beautiful object has often been the downfall of many a great and powerful man. I never thought to see Salt sink so low…”
Lady Caroline was up on her heels. “How dare you speak about my brother and his wife in such a-a crude and-and undignified manner! Salt married Jane because he loves her; much you would know about that.”
“Caroline, you are an over-indulged, spoiled child who—”
“Enough,” stated Sir Antony very quietly, glancing up from the carpet where he was helping Ron detach a thread from the ribbon that had caught in the kitten’s claw. “Caro is in the right, Di. You owe Lady Salt an apology.”
“Please, we all must remember where we are,” Jane said quietly, a significant glance at Ron and Merry who had been riveted to the conversation. “Tony, what was it Jenkins told you about Willis? He has not taken ill I trust?”
“Worse. Dismissed from his post. Willis is no longer under-butler in this household.”
Just as Sir Antony said this, Anne, who had come through from the dressing room with a fresh reel of cotton for her mistress, burst into tears and fled the room on a strangled sob.
“Thank God such a maudlin creature no longer lingers in my household,” Lady St. John announced with satisfaction as she busied herself pouring out milk into various tea dishes. “The woman’s a dripping spout of woes.”
Lady Caroline stared in disbelief from the Countess to Diana St. John and then went up to Jane, mindful of the twins’ presence. “You can’t let her get away with making such horrid remarks about you and my brother,” she whispered. “She owes you an apology and if you don’t stand up to her she will think you weak and be forever managing you.”
Jane put aside her needlepoint and drew Caroline to sit beside her in the window seat. “If I thought it would be of any use I would do as you suggest, but…” She glanced over at Diana St. John who was absorbed with corking a small blue bottle that she then slipped into her reticule. “She is not well. Anything I say will only inflame her. I do not expect you to fully understand but please we must wait for your brother, who is the only person capable of controlling her.” She looked over at Sir Antony and asked about the under-butler.
“Kitchen gossip,” Sir Antony apologized. “Willis left the house without telling Jenkins his direction and when he returned he was summonsed to Salt’s private apartments where he spent over an hour locked up in close conversation. When he emerged his face was so white it looked as if it had been dipped in flour and he was shaking like a Jelly Surprise and he couldn’t put two words together. Whereupon he again left the house and has not been seen since. I might add, that whatever Willis said in that interview left Salt in a blind rage. Andrews confided to Jenkins he had never heard such a vulgar tongue expressed with such eloquence.”
Lady Caroline smiled at Jane and glanced slyly at Sir Antony, saying with feigned thoughtfulness, “Perhaps I will ask dear Captain Beresford to employ Willis…?”
Sir Antony did not rise to the bait. He put his dish back on its saucer, saying charmingly, “You do that, sweetheart. Perhaps, given the circumstances of this love affair, your Captain might even take on her ladyship’s personal maid so Willis and she can be together again. Now wouldn’t that make for a romantic foursome?”
“Yes, how romantic indeed!” Lady Caroline threw at Sir Antony as if he had made the best suggestion in the world. “I must write to the dear Captain at once about poor Willis. He is so understanding about such matters. No doubt when I inform him of the circumstances behind Willis’s dismissal he will jump at the chance to be of service to me.”
“I believe a note to the dear Captain is just what you should do, Caroline.” Jane dimpled, entering into the girl’s teasing of Sir Antony. “And be certain to inform him that the romantic notion of keeping Anne and Rufus together was the idea of Sir Antony Templestowe.”
Sir Antony bowed. “I aim to please you both, dear ladies.”
“When did the feelings of servants ever amount to anything?” Diana St. John said dismissively and smiled at Jane. “You have not touched your tart, my lady. Perhaps the dish of tea my daughter graciously gave you will help you feel more the thing. Merry! Don’t hover! Offer the cakes to your uncle then you may stand here beside my chair. No, Ron! Merry!” she snapped when her daughter offered cake to her brother. “No cake. Your brother is still too weak to digest any food. Remember what the physician advised.”
Jane picked up the dish of tea Merry had placed on the window seat beside her, ignoring Diana St. John’s intense gaze.
“You truly do not look at all well, my lady,” Diana St. John said silkily when Jane hesitated to drink the contents of her tea dish. “Tea is most beneficial when one is out of sorts. Don’t you agree, Antony?”
“Merry, if you would be so kind as to re
turn this dish to your mamma.” Jane smiled at the little girl. “I do not take milk.”
“My dear Lady Salt, I assure you that with milk, the tea will do you a great deal of good,” Diana St. John insisted. “Merry! Lady Salt will drink the tea with milk.”
“No. I will not,” Jane stated firmly, holding Diana St. John’s gaze, and the tea dish on its saucer at arm’s length for Merry to return to the tea trolley. “Thank you, Merry.”
“Merry! Do not take that dish!” her mother ordered. “My lady, I insist that you at least try my tea. After all the trouble I took to make it on your behalf.”
“I am mindful of the effort, my lady, but I am unable to drink the tea.”
“And why are you unable to drink tea with milk, my lady?”
“Di, it is of no importance why Lady Salt cannot drink tea with milk,” Sir Antony said on sigh of exasperation. “That her ladyship does not wish it should suffice. Merry, take the tea dish back to the trolley forthwith.”
“No, Merry, do not touch that dish,” her mother enunciated. “Lady Salt will do me the courtesy of drinking the tea.”
The little girl hesitated, half way between her mother and the Countess, not knowing which way to turn. Wanting to take the tea dish from the Countess yet afraid of her mother’s wrath if she did. Ron saw his sister’s distress and went toward her, but Sir Antony, exchanging a look of exasperation with Lady Caroline, stayed his nephew with a hand on his shoulder and came to his niece’s rescue.
“What a lot of bother over a trifle! Let Merry take the dish and be done with it.”
“Don’t interfere! This is none of your concern! Lady Salt will drink the tea Merry so graciously gave her. It would be the height of bad manners not to do so. Would it not, my lady?”
Jane suppressed her own exasperation and reasoned that if one sip of milky tea would put an end to all the fuss and make Merry comfortable again, then she would do her best to oblige Diana St. John. Surely she could conquer her nausea for a matter of mere moments. But just the thought of milk made her queasy. Perhaps if she held her breath…
Salt Bride: A Georgian Historical Romance Page 33