by Clare Revell
Time seemed to slow as they moved around the ballroom. The music changed to something slower, yet she didn’t pull away. He brought her closer, molding her flat against him. Caitlyn responded by laying her head on his shoulder as they continued to dance. A contented sigh reached his ear, filling him with hope.
The moment was shattered by footsteps and a cough he knew only too well. “Yes, Torrance?”
Caitlyn jerked from his arms as if awakened from a dream.
“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a phone call for you in the study. And the grocer is here to see Mrs. Shade.”
She glanced over at Torrance. “Give me two minutes to change, and I’ll be right down.”
Torrance nodded. “I’ll get him to wait in the servants’ dining room.” He turned and headed to the door.
Hayden grabbed his cane, leaning on it. “The grocer?” He grasped his wife’s hand.
She smiled. “I’m taking my new job seriously.”
“So I see. Don’t go disrupting the workings of my household.”
“Our household. You made me mistress when you married me. Plus, if you’re sending the staff away I need to know what’s what.”
“I did, didn’t I? Don’t make me regret it.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Yes, you will.” She dashed from the room, heading for the winding stairs that led almost directly to their suites.
Hayden made his way more slowly to his study. He eased into his chair and picked up the phone. “Hayden Shade, speaking. What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Shade, it’s Frank Hosier.” Even on the phone the voice sniveled and whined. “I was wondering how Caitlyn was.”
“She’s fine.” Hayden debated telling the man they were already married and decided against it. Make him sweat a while longer. “I know I said no contact, and I meant it. However, she has asked me to invite you to a wedding blessing to be held here on Christmas Eve at eleven in the morning.”
There was a long silence and Hayden wondered if the man had hung up the phone. “Are you still there?”
“I—I—”
Hayden tapped his fingers on the desk. “Did you think you’d have time to find the money to buy her back? We had a deal, Mr. Hosier—your daughter in exchange for your freedom. Caitlyn belongs to me now.” He paused. “What shall I tell her?”
“We won’t be there. No contact for six months, as we agreed.”
“But I offered a…” The line went dead. For the first time since this whole thing began, Hayden started to regret his handling of the situation. He now had to tell Caitlyn her father refused to come to the wedding blessing, hopefully without hurting her.
Caitlyn headed down to the kitchen, not entirely sure where the servants dining room was located. As she entered, she had to duck to avoid a footman carrying a tray of silverware.
Mrs. Salmon glanced over. “Are you here to see the grocer, ma’am?”
“Yes. I’m not sure where to go.”
A floury hand pointed. “Mr. Meyers is in the servants’ dining room. Through that door there and turn left. Daisy, show Mrs. Shade, will you?”
“Yes, Mrs. Salmon. This way, ma’am.”
Caitlyn followed the young maid.
A tall, grey-haired man in a thick overcoat, cap in hand, sat by the fireplace.
“Mr. Meyers?” Caitlyn asked.
He leapt to his feet. “Yes, ma’am.”
Caitlyn smiled and held out a hand. “Can I get you some tea?”
He shook her hand awkwardly. “Mrs. Salmon already did that.” He nodded to the half empty cup.
She turned to Daisy. “I don’t suppose there is any water left in the kettle for me? No need to make a whole pot—a mug will do. Dash of milk, no sugar.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Daisy bobbed her head and left.
Caitlyn sat down. “Please, sit, Mr. Meyers. As you may have heard, I’m now mistress of Stetford Park and I want to change how things are done, tighten up any slack that I find.”
“I see.” The man fidgeted on his chair. Worry creased his brow.
She hurried to put him at ease. “There’s really no need to worry. I’m not planning on Internet shopping everything from the local supermarket. I understand that you currently deliver daily, which must cost a fair bit in petrol.” She paused as Daisy appeared with a mug of tea. “Thank you.” She sipped it.
“It does, but that’s how Mr. Shade wanted it done.”
“Hmmm.” Caitlyn drummed her fingers on the handle. “I was thinking it would make more sense to have the groceries delivered once a week. It saves you time and petrol and allows me the flexibility to change the menus if I need to. So one delivery, on a Friday. Obviously you’ll need to bring a week’s supply before next Friday.”
Mr. Meyers pinched the bridge of his nose, uncertainty clouding his eyes. “I could do that tomorrow. How will you know what you need?”
“I’d suggest you bring what you normally do each day, but all at once. What happens about payment?”
“Once a month.”
Caitlyn pursed her lips. “That’s no good. From next week, you’ll be paid on delivery. If that’s all right?”
Mr. Meyers nodded, his eyes alight. “Yes, thank you.” He finished his tea. “I should be getting on, if there is nothing else I can help you with?”
Daisy appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Shade, Mr. Jacks, the butcher, is here. You wanted to see him as well.”
Caitlyn nodded, eager to move on. “Show Mr. Meyers out and bring Mr. Jacks in. Make him some tea, as well.”
“Mr. Torrance said…”
The kitchen maid’s eyes flickered, and Caitlyn could guess what Mr. Torrance had said.
“So, don’t tell him.” Caitlyn winked.
Daisy bobbed a curtsey. “Yes, ma’am.”
Caitlyn bit her lip, almost tempted to tell her not to do that, but she guessed it came with the territory and she should get used to it.
Ten minutes later, having made the same arrangement with the butcher, Caitlyn headed back into the kitchen. She found the cook, housekeeper, and butler all standing by the sink, deep in conversation. She overheard her name and guessed they were gossiping about her unorthodox way of doing things. Well, she’d still got a trick or two up her sleeve.
She cleared her throat. “I’m glad I found you all together. I wanted to let you know of some changes I’m making to the way the house is run.”
The three servants started a little and spun around. They gaped at her, worry mixed with suspicion evident on their faces, by their wide eyes and furrowed brows. Not to mention a tinge of guilt at having been caught out.
“Nothing bad.” Caitlyn hastened to reassure them. “From now on, the grocer and butcher will come once a week, leaving a full weeks’ worth of supplies. If we need a bigger fridge-freezer or whatever to accommodate this, I’ll organize one. We’ll also be paying them weekly from now on and not monthly.”
Torrance inclined his head, nodding approvingly. “Very good, ma’am.”
Mrs. Salmon smiled. “That will make things so much easier.”
“When are your days off?” Caitlyn continued.
The staff stood silent before Torrance said, “We have two weeks at Christmas and another two at Easter. That’s four weeks a year…”
Caitlyn tried not to sigh. “From the new year, you’ll all be off on a Wednesday and a Sunday—as well as having the same four weeks off a year. Unless you’d prefer a different day or divide the week amongst you. However it’d be easier from my point of view if you all had the same days.”
“Mr. Shade won’t like that.” Mrs. Salmon scowled. “What about food?”
“I’ll cook. And leave Mr. Shade to me. He keeps telling me I’m to be mistress of the house, so I’ll run it how I see fit. And if we’re to have servants, I want servants and not slaves. That means two days off a week, plus four weeks annual leave, in line with what people in every other job work. I have
no idea how other big houses organize it, but this is the way I’m doing it. I’ll also need to see how much he pays you, so I can make sure it’s a fair amount.”
“I’ll see that the books are left in your suite, ma’am,” Torrance told her.
“OK, well, carry on.” With a nod, Caitlyn pivoted and headed back up to the main part of the house. Silence reigned behind her. She wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing.
Even though it was dark outside now, light filled the house. A piano echoed from the music room and she pushed the door open.
Hayden sat at the instrument, tapping away with one finger.
She crossed the room and dropped beside him on the piano stool. “Did you get a hold of Father?”
With a last ringing note, Hayden’s playing trailed into silence. “I did. I’m sorry, but he said they won’t come.”
“Oh.” Disappointment speared her and she clasped a hand to her middle, fingers splayed over the green linen. Her eyes stung. “Did…did he say why?”
“No. Would you play something for me, Mrs. Shade?”
“It seems a little silly to be calling me that now we’re married.” She blinked away tears. “It’s Caitlyn.” She studied him, but he didn’t turn away.
His mask seemed even darker in the lamp light, his eyes glittering, and his face unreadable.
“This may be a business deal, with me being the world’s most expensive bride, but it’s done now for better or worse. I belong to you. So, it’s Caitlyn.” She offered him her hand.
Hayden took her fingers in his, pressing them against his lips. Her skin was soft and cool. “Caitlyn.”
She smiled. “See, it’s easy once you start.”
“Hayden.” His gaze held hers. “My name is Hayden.”
“Hayden,” she repeated, tilting her head in that cute way she had. “What does it mean?”
“Hay valley. Although some would say it’s another name for Hades.”
“That’s not very kind.”
He shrugged. “You said you’d heard all the rumours.”
Her fingers touched the piano keys, a quiet melody playing beneath them. “Some. Don’t believe any of them for a second.” She glanced at him. “The mask doesn’t make you a monster. Nor does your temper, which can be quite scary.”
She was playing Ballade pour Adeline, a piece of music he loved. He closed his eyes as she played, allowing himself to be caught up in the tune. He visualized himself dancing in the ballroom, sweet music filling the space, him holding her in his arms, kissing her…
With a shudder, Hayden forced himself back to reality. “What does your name mean?”
“Pure. Which is about as far from the truth as yours.”
He tilted his head. “Why?”
“Just is,” she whispered. The music finished, she peered at him. “So do you play any duets other than chopsticks?”
He shook his head.
“Then chopsticks it is.” She began playing and he added the one fingered ditty. They played faster and faster until they both laughed and could no longer keep up with each other.
She leaned against his shoulder. “So I was in the kitchen earlier.”
“Yes. What did the grocer want?”
“He and the butcher are now coming weekly and being paid on delivery. It should make things run much smoother. I’ve also given the servants Wednesdays and Sundays off each week, no arguments, as they all work nonstop without a break.”
“They all receive four weeks paid holiday a year. That’s ample time away from here.”
“And they still will. However, working seven days a week for several months isn’t fair to anyone,” she argued. “The rest of the country work roughly five days or forty hours a week, and still have four weeks paid vacation. Besides, you put me in charge of running things, so this is me doing that as I see fit.”
Hayden’s lips twisted, not letting on if he was agreeing, disagreeing or poking fun at her. It was a good idea of hers, but he wouldn’t come out and say as much. Not yet, anyway.
“Give me a chance. If it’s a total failure, we can change it back.” She twisted back to the piano. This time playing Silent Night.
Hayden stood, reaching for his cane.
Caitlyn stopped playing. “Where are you going?”
“I told you. I don’t do—”
“—Christmas,” she finished. “Yeah, you said. Yet you do church and God.”
He growled. “It is perfectly possible to do one and not the other.”
“How can you not celebrate our Saviour’s birth?”
“Enough, Caitlyn.” He crashed his cane against the flooring, the sound echoing in the small room. “I will not be dictated to in my own home.”
“Fine.” She brushed past him. “It’s late night shopping in town. May I use the car?”
“So long as you are back by dinner.”
“I should be, but save me some just in case.”
Hayden sighed as he watched her flounce down the hallway. He’d thought, hoped they’d found some common ground. Maybe not. Either way, he’d spend the rest of his wedding day alone and working.
8
Normally, after a fight with anyone, Caitlyn would retreat to her room and read, but she needed to get out. Crazy. It was her wedding day, but she’d wanted to be anywhere her husband wasn’t. She hoped a trip to the shops would give her the space she needed, before trying again with him.
Having bought enough decorations for her own suite of rooms, Caitlyn returned in a better frame of mind, to find Hayden sequestered in his study with do not disturb signs on the door.
Instead, she contented herself with stringing fairy lights on a small tree in her sitting room. She added the few baubles and sat back on her knees to admire it. She refused dinner, sending it back saying she wasn’t hungry, and to put it in a container in the freezer.
This wasn’t how she’d imagined her wedding night. She changed and climbed into her bed, curling up on her side facing the connecting door. Finally the movement beyond it ceased. “This wasn’t how things were meant to be, Lord,” she whispered. “I thought it would at least be a proper marriage, but perhaps I am merely another possession after all.”
She pulled over her Bible and began reading where she’d left off in Esther.
Once again she heard sobbing coming from the connecting bedroom. “Hayden, are you all right?” she called. “Do you want me to come in?”
There was no answer. She threw back the covers and ran to the door. Once again it was locked. She hit the door in frustration. Then turned away. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it.”
She climbed back under the covers and curled into a ball. “Whatever is bothering him, Lord, please help him work through it. Let me be of some comfort and help. I’m guessing that’s why You’ve put me here, but he has to at least open the door a crack to let me in.”
Hayden came down to breakfast, not expecting Caitlyn to be up. There had been silence from her side of the connecting door since the early hours, and he assumed she was sleeping in. Instead, she sat at the dining table, sun streaming in through the windows behind her. “Good morning, Caitlyn.”
Her smile was almost as dazzling. “Morning. And it’s a lovely day out there, despite the frost.”
“You’re chirpy,” he groused, sitting down and leaning his cane against the table.
“And you’re grumpy,” she replied. “All we need now is another five and we have a full complement of dwarves.”
He scowled.
“Not a morning person, are you?” Caitlyn picked up her cup. “Did you sleep all right?”
He swivelled his gaze to meet hers. “What kind of a question is that?”
“I heard you call out a few times. I tried to come in, to check on you, but the door was still locked. What kind of a husband locks the door on his wife on their wedding night?”
He ducked his head, not knowing how to answer her. H
e settled for changing the subject. “I thought I might show you the grounds this morning. You’ll want to wrap up though.”
She nodded. “I’ll wear my coat and hat.” She tilted her head. “Do me one favour. Don’t lock the door tonight. I won’t come in if you don’t want me to, but I figured…” She dropped her gaze as he glared at her. “Never mind what I thought.”
Hayden changed the subject. “We’ll go out as soon as I’ve eaten. Then I have some work to do before dinner tonight. I won’t be around at lunch time.”
“Then you won’t mind if I call on Meredith this morning?” Caitlyn plunked her cup down and wiped her mouth on her serviette. “I want to show her the photos and have a catch up.”
Hayden frowned. “You will come back.”
She sighed. “Where else would I go? She and Jeremiah live at the ranger station—he’s a ranger.”
Hayden smirked. “No, really?”
Her laugh was unexpected. “Funnily enough, yeah.”
“That’s fine.”
She smiled. “I’ll go and get my coat, put my boots on. That way I’ll be ready for when you’ve finished eating.” She rose. “Then this afternoon, I’ll be in the library. There’s at least one book I want to read.”
By the time she was back downstairs, Hayden had finished and was in the hall waiting for her. He’d dressed in his long overcoat, leather gloves, and red scarf. Caitlyn wore a long blue coat over her red dress, brown lace-up boots peeking from under the hem.
Hayden smiled. “I told you boots would go with some of the dresses.”
She glanced down at them. “My favourite pair. Sides, slippers or those new shoes probably wouldn’t be a good idea out there, this morning.”
He held out a hand. “Shall we?”
She clasped his hand, curling her fingers around it. “Yes.”
They headed outside into the frigid winter air. It was a lot colder than he’d expected. He guided her down the steps and around the side of the house, pointing things out to her as they walked. She was humming under her breath.
“What’s that?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Umm, “Hark the Herald Angels.” Sorry, I’ll stop.”
“I don’t think you could stop if I glued your lips together, my dear.”