How to Impress a Gentleman

by Allie Borne

  Linnie put herself to bed thrumming with excitement. The additional help was swiftly transforming her house into a home.

  Lindsay pretending to slumber as Charles arose at dawn and departed. The moment he shut the bed chamber door, she slid from the feather tick and washed up. “He has departed,” echoed Dorothy’s voice from the key hole. “Shall I come in?”

  “Yes, please, Dorothy.” Together they made quick work of Lindsay’s gown and kerchief. Both tied smocks about their waists, watching Charles gallop Diamond down the path.

  “Molly has already gone to fetch Bobby from the stables. He will carry the buckets of white wash afore he walks the fence line. We shall be on our own as he’ll be mending fences till dusk. Shall we lay down the old linens from the closet, to protect the wood floor?”

  “Yes, capital idea, Dorothy. I will do so, if you will go downstairs and fill a small tin with water for our brushes. Also, please ask Bernard to bring up the ladder.”

  After spreading the linens, Lindsay descended the stairs to her breakfast. Bernard entered the dining hall. “The ladder has been deposited within your bed chamber, Mistress. I shall be needed to finish the repairs on the roof today. A storm is brewing. I can feel it in my bones. I would hate to leave the Miss Dorothy and Miss Molly with a wet head come the morrow. I have pressed Betsy into service as our cook.”

  “Very well, Bernard. We shall make do. I will be requiring Dorothy and Molly’s assistance in the Master Bedroom. How does the remainder of the roof look, Bernard?”

  “Quite sound, Mistress.”

  “Excellent.”

  Lindsay relieved the two women of their brushes, sending them down to break their fast. She continued with the painting of the ceiling. Paint flicked down upon her, appearing as white freckles over her arm and face. It took the three young women until noon to finish.

  They were exhausted as they rinsed the brushes and gathered their drop cloths. “Come, let us eat in the kitchen, and then see about moving in the furniture.”

  John and Bernard looked even more fatigued as they sank into their stools by the hearth. Soup and bread was soon emptied from trenchers and they all sat back, enjoying the slight breeze from the open door.

  Lindsay slouched, rubbing her temples with a sigh, and addressing no one in particular, she asked, “By the by, when should Bobby return?”

  “He took his lunch with him, Mistress. He plans on picking up Mr. Bane and then taking him out to mend fences. They should be back by supper time, I’d wager. Master wants the fences in order for his sheep that come at the end of the week. I believe we are to get a milk cow and a breeder sow some time in the next fort night, as well.

  “Bobby will have to repair the pen at the back of the stables. I suppose the Master intends to hire a stable boy to tend all the animals.”

  Nodding her head in understanding, Lindsay wondered, “The new boy might stay in the loft with Bobby but wherever shall we put the cook?”

  “Why, in this room, Mistress, I s’pose.” Betsy responded.

  Opening a door adjacent to the root cellar, Lindsay encountered a small, square room stacked floor to ceiling with sacks of flour, corn meal, sugar, etc.

  “If we reorganize our dry stock room, we might be able to keep this against a far wall.”

  “Very well. When might this be done?” Lindsay asked, feeling the strain of her mounting responsibilities in the tightness between her shoulders.

  “Tomorrow,” Betsy reassured, “if I might gain Molly’s assistance.”

  “Yes, Betsy, Molly shall be yours by the morrow. Dorothy, Molly, let us return to our labor.”

  In half an hour’s time the bedroom furniture was in place. In another hour candles, linens and draperies were installed and straightened. Wood set ready in the fire place and a plush rug (from Lindsay’s shopping trip) lay welcoming on the hearth.

  Now, Dorothy, I should very much like that bath I forsook yesterday.”

  As Molly and Dorothy prepared the bath, Lindsay stripped her filthy attire and brushed her hair. She looked forward to a long nap and intended to order the same for Dorothy and Molly. Their cot had been removed and replaced with a full bed frame and feather tic to share.

  The cot was removed to the tack room. Now, Molly and Betsy must quickly repair a small bed and mattress for the cook. Another trip to market was crucial.

  It was nigh on three O’clock when Lindsay stepped from the bath to a horrible crash. Grasping her towel tighter about her, Lindsay turned to Dorothy in alarm. “What was that? Why, it sounds as if the roof has caved in!”

  Dorothy ran to discover the source of the house-shaking, “Crack!” as Lindsay quickly pulled on a serviceable blue cotton dress. “Why, it is Bernard and John, Miss, come quick!” Dorothy called down from the attic.

  Taking the narrow steps two at a time, Lindsay rushed upon a horrifying scene. Dorothy bent over two prostrate forms, covered in wood, and a thick dust swirled. The two men had apparently fallen through the weakened roof, crashing upon the attic floor. Quickly, Lindsay joined in pulling the debris from the two men.

  John, having fallen away from any furniture, was soon sitting up, dazed, bruised and scratched, but with no serious injury. Bernard, on the other hand, lay unconscious. A gash rent his scalp and his left arm lay at an odd angle.

  Hearing Molly and Betsy bustling up the stairs, Lindsay called out, “Fetch clean water and bandages to my old room! Now!” Without a word they turned to obey. Examining her butler, Lindsay could see that although his head wound was bleeding profusely and his left arm was definitely broken, Bernard was breathing regularly and seemed to be otherwise uninjured.

  “Dorothy, help me carry Bernard to my old chamber. You grab his leg and I’ll lift him beneath the shoulders. Heed that arm! John, stay right where you are!”

  Where is my husband? Linnie thought, angrily, as they maneuvered poor Mr. Bullworth into the waiting bed.

  Betsy and Molly soon bustled in, arms full of supplies. “Betsy. The sky will surly break in storm within a few hour’s time. Go to the pasture. Fetch Bobby and David to board up the roof as best they can.”

  “Molly, you are to give them whatever assistance they require.”

  “Dorothy, Lindsay continued,” we have left poor John upstairs. Please see to him. I shall be able to manage here for a while on my own.”

  As the other women rushed off to their errands, Lindsay soaked a rag and washed the dried blood from Bernard’s forehead. “Not deep,” Linnie sighed in relief. Lightly placing a strip of clean linen to the gash, she focused upon removing his boots.

  Once washed and patched, Dorothy led John to his chamber, promising whisky in due course. Returning to her mistresses’ side, her sewing box in hand, she lifted the linen from Bernard’s head and reported. “He is still bleeding. I shall need to sew up the gash.”

  “Have you done so before, Dorothy?” Lindsay wondered.

  “Aye, Mistress. I had three brothers with sixty stitches among them. I have stitched scalp afore. Although it is tricky, I can manage, with Molly’s help.”

  “Very well, have Molly help you and then see to the men’s needs. I will ride to town for the doctor. His arm will need to be set and I would like to have John looked over, also.”

  “By yerself, M’Lady? Why, that is unwise!”

  “It is very wise. No one else can be spared. We are only women remaining in this house and I am the only rider. I will go quickly.”

  Grabbing her bonnet and cloak, Lindsay rushed down the stairs and out to the stable. Her side saddle was dreadfully heavy and cumbersome. It took her three tries to rest it atop Doc’s back. Her hands trembled, fumbling with the straps.

  “Hurry, hurry!” she whispered to her wayward fingers. Climbing on the block, she mounted and immediately kicked Doc into a gallop. Lindsay was accustomed to riding a distance for sport or leisure but a two hour ride, when another’s life hangs in the balance, was excruciating.

  Luckily, the way was straight forward
. She need only follow one road until a mile out of town, and then turn down hill into the village at the sign post. “Thank Heaven,” she murmured, as she turned onto the final leg of the journey. Her arms and legs were numb and her heart was pounding, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

  Careening into town, she scanned both sides of the street for the doctor’s plaque. Left and right, her head turned, until a certain stride, a particular swagger, caught her eye. It was Charlie! Turning her full gaze in his direction, she began to guide Doc toward the right side of the street.

  She pulled him up short when she noted Charles was not alone. Instead, he sauntered down the cobbled walkway, arm in arm with a willowy blonde. The lady in question laughed and turned her face to casually kiss his cheek. He smiled down at this Venus in white in a wicked and confident manner that Lindsay had never before witnessed.

  A searing pain shot through her heart and abdomen. She doubled over as her insides clenched and turned to ice. She straightened, intending to call out to him, only to see Charles walk the lithe beauty into the town’s inn! Oh, how could he?

  Sense pervaded shock and Lindsay realigned her duty and loyalty to her butler, Bernard. I shall fetch the doctor and then deal with this.

  With relief, Lindsay spotted the doctor’s office, one block down, on the left. Quickly dismounting and tying up Doc, she rushed into the office. Doctor Matthews walked out of surgery at the tinkling of the door’s bell. Wiping his hands on a towel, he looked at Lindsay’s wildly askew bonnet and inquired, “How might I help you, Miss?”

  Lindsay took a deep breath, stood firmly erect, and gushed, “I am Lady Donovan and my butler has been gravely injured. I believe his arm is broken and he has a nasty gash upon his forehead. Can you come to Braxton Hall immediately?”

  “Aye, of course, but, where is your escort?” Dr. Matthews glanced out the door curiously.

  “I have come alone.”

  Surprised and alarmed, the doctor suggested, “Then, let us take my curricle.”

  Peering out of the window, he saw Doc. “I shall tie your horse to the carriage and you shall ride with me. Where is Sir Charles?”

  “Engaged in business,” Lindsay answered in a curt tone that squelched further inquisition. “He left the manor this morning and shan’t be back until late this evening.”

  “I see. Give me one moment to collect my things.”

  Rolling past the Yellow Lamb Inn, Lindsay couldn’t help but look for signs of Charles. None were apparent. Her heart sank. Had he been dining at the window, she would, at least, know that he hadn’t taken a room with that wicked woman.

  What to do? She would wait to see about Bernard and then decide. One thing was certain. As the curricle grew nearer to the manor house, she grew increasingly restless. Her conversation with Charles the day before kept running through her mind. He had asked her to not leave him. She had asked if he had broken his marriage vows. He had not answered her question. She had not promised to stay.

  Linnie’s eyes burned with unshed tears as she thought back to the house party. During Charles’ conversation with Aiden, he had implied that he had schemed to marry her for money. Had this whole few weeks of marriage been a sham? Had he bedded her simply for sport and the possibility of an heir? He had asked her just last night to let him know right away if she missed her monthly courses. Was the sophisticated woman she saw on his arm the true object of his lust and devotion?

  If she stayed now, Linnie knew she would be removing her opportunity to leave of her own accord. To leave meant to undermine her husband’s trust. Yet, he had already destroyed the trust between them, through his actions, not only today but last month, and five years hence. First he abandons my mother and me, then he schemes to capture my dowry, now he gallivants about, escorting and kissing another woman on the streets of town?! It was the last straw.

  No one would support me, if I decide to leave Charles. He is allowed to carry out extramarital affairs. If he forbids me to leave, I will be like Mother, a prisoner in my own home. Charles loves me, I know, but not as a partner. He loves me as a dependent. I will not live my life as a second class citizen.

  The moment the curricle pulled up in front of the manor house, Lindsay escorted Dr. Matthews to the upstairs guest room. Linnie entered the sick room first and was pleased to see Bernard conscious, flanked by Betsy and Dorothy.

  “I have brought the doctor, Bernard.”

  “The doctor, Betsy, no!” he said, turning to the house keeper.

  “It is the new doctor, remember? He is one who came to the old Master’s death bed,” Betsy responded, reassuring.

  “Oh, yes, my mind is in a fog. I remember. You may send him in.”

  Lindsay’s mind pricked at the odd conversation but she did as she was bid. Dosing his patient with laudanum, Dr. Matthews set the bone and braced it. “Bernard has sustained a compound fracture to his ulna. It is the outer bone of his left arm. It is essential that he keep this arm immobile for the next few weeks.

  The laceration on his forehead, however, has been well stitched, and, if kept clean, should not fester. I see no evidence of head trauma. If you see signs of nausea, fainting, or confusion, however, fetch me right away. He is to do no manual labor for the next six weeks and I will need to return to check on his progress in three week’s time. Keep his wounds washed and apply fresh dressings daily. He is to remain in bed for the next several days.”

  After quitting Bernard’s sick bed, John too was checked over and given a clean bill of health.

  Walking Doctor Matthews to the door, Lindsay inquired, “So, Mr. Bullworth will recover?”

  “Oh, aye, as long as he is given time to heal. The break was clean. He’ll mend just fine.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. My husband will pay you. Simply send us your bill.”

  “Yes, My Lady. Good day.”

  “Good day.”

  The moment the good doctor vacated the entrance, Linnie rushed to the sick room.

  “Betsy, please help me move my trunk to the master bed chamber.”

  Immediately, Lindsay began putting her clothing in the trunk. “How is John?”

  “He is as well as might be expected. He is asleep, at present...Whatever are you doing, M’Lady?”

  “I am packing, Betsy. I cannot stay in my chamber while Bernard needs it to recuperate and I refuse to stay in the master chamber with Sir Charles. Please, might I stay with you, in the cottage?”

  “Why ever are you that distraught M’Lady? What has gotten ye so out of sorts that ye can’t face yer own husband?”

  “I have come to see my station clearly, for once, and I would simply like to establish the reality of where I stand in this household.”

  “Betsy humphed and quirked a brow, but bent to straighten the lining of a gown within the trunk. She knew melodramatic nonsense when she heard it but, she also knew better than to question a lady about her sensibilities. Like as not, Lindsay would be back in this very room by nightfall. Knowing Sir Charles, he’d not stand for her poppy cock, but far be it from her to tell Miss Lindsay so.

  Lindsay finished packing except for her brush, mirror, and night rail. She could easily fit them in her carpet bag. Looking about the room for any forgotten items, she latched the trunk’s lid with a resounding, ‘Click.’

  Having watched an exhausted Bobby and David lug the heavy trunk from her room, Lindsay turned to inspect the completed master bedroom one last time. A tiny tear escaped Lindsay’s eye and ran down her sun burnt cheek. Wiping it away with the back of her hand, she thought of how hard she had worked to make this chamber, this house, a home for them.

  Every moment that he had been away, that she had been scalding her hands in laundry water or straining her back, bending over the vegetable garden, he had been running around with that woman. All the pieces were falling into place, his long absences, his unwillingness to share his deepest feelings; it was all clear now and Lindsay suddenly felt on the outside, looking in.

  T
railing David and Bobby across the yard to Betsy’s cottage, Lindsay steeled her resolve. She would rather live as a servant than continue to live a lie.

  Settled on a palette beside Betsy’s bed, Lindsay rolled about until she was quite twisted in her blanket. “Betsy, do you know of the Bonneville family?”

  “Aye, M’Lady. They are but four miles off, up yonder.”

  “Do they have any children?”

  “Aye. They have a grown daughter. She must be over twenty by now. Widowed, she is. She moved back home just over a year ago, seein’ as how her husband’s estates were entailed.”

  “I think I might have met her today. Is she tall and thin, with blonde hair?”

  “Aye, that is her, exactly. What makes ye ask?”

  “Curiosity, I suppose.”

  Betsy would bet her best laying hen that Lady Donovan was fighting with the green eyed monster. No woman leaves her husband’s bed unless she feels he has done something to deserve it. And bedding the comely widow would certainly mean he deserved it.

  ~ ~ ~

  Bernard slept fitfully. Lindsay set a cool cloth on his head and his eyes opened suspiciously. “Is that you, Betsy? Have they found us out?”

  “Found you out, you mean?” Lindsay retorted, suspecting Bernard hid a well-born secret.

  Squinting past the fog of laudanum, Bernard tried to sit up and called out in pain. “Calm yourself, Sir. I do not wish to distress you.”

  “Oh, tis you, M’Lady. Of what do you accuse me?”

  “Of hiding a secret. You are a man accustomed to giving orders, not taking them. Your uneducated intonations fall off when you are unawares. Who are you, Bernard?”

  “If I told you, your husband would be disinherited and all of my plans would go to waste.”

  “What if I tell you my secret, and then you tell me yours?”