Phoebe resorted to the Everton company line. “Markus, I am here to do a job and that is all. Whatever Mr. Blunt intends is of little interest and none of your business. I want to do what I said I would then get out of your house. You said yourself that you wanted me gone. You wrote to my brother and demanded he take me away. Why is it such a shock to you that I have plans to leave? I work for Everton Domestic Society. I take an assignment, complete it, and move on. It is what I do.”
Jaw ticking, he closed his eyes. When he opened them the fire was gone. “What would you like to go over?”
She had crushed the nanny’s letter in her fist and smoothed it out. It was a good thing the rest of her notes were protected in a leather portfolio or everything would be a mess. “I have had a letter from a reputable nanny. She sent her credentials. Perhaps we can check her references and offer her the position.”
Taking the letter from her, he offered her a seat. His eyes darted across the page before he rose, rounded the desk and sat in the chair next to her. “This Mrs. Horst sounds qualified. What are your concerns?”
The letter expounded upon Mrs. Horst’s many achievements as a nanny in four well-to-do homes. “Why does she have no reference letters included? Why did she work in four homes?”
He read the letter again. “Perhaps she neglected to ask for a reference letter. Nannies change homes when the child grows, and in the case of boys, they go off to school.”
“True. Perhaps I am being too picky.” The wording of the letter and tone still didn’t sit well with Phoebe. She couldn’t put her finger on what the problem was.
“In my opinion Mrs. Horst will suit.” He passed the letter back.
Taking it, she sighed. Once she’d put it at the bottom of her papers, she said. “I will write to her immediately.”
“If it will make you feel better, write to Lady Wortripple. That was Mrs. Horst’s last post. Perhaps that will ease your concerns.”
Phoebe made a note to write both letters and post them immediately. “I have hired back a few of the staff, but most have found other positions.”
“I would expect so.” Looking at the short list, he frowned.
Wishing she could give him good news that would make him smile, she pressed on. “Here is the list of potential servants. Watson and Mrs. Donnelly gave me the posts and the numbers, but if you want to change anything, please let me know.”
“No. They know best.” He was all business. None of the intimacy they had shared remained while they spoke of staffing the house.
Becca brought tea and lemon cake, and they talked through the meal, discussing each candidate at length. By week’s end, they would have most of the positions filled.
“Shall I hire you a valet or would you prefer to do that?” It would have been difficult for Phoebe to manage without Arwen. Perhaps it was different for men, but her brothers had employed valets for as long as she could remember.
“I hope Blakely will return. I have written a letter to that effect.” Markus ran his hand through his hair.
Urged to fix the part he left sticking up, she fisted her hands to keep them in her lap. “That must have been difficult.”
“The mistakes I have made require amends.” He shrugged. “It is not pleasant to apologize, but it is necessary.”
“On that same subject, there is the matter of Duck.” She cringed. The last time the groundskeeper’s name came up, Markus went into a rage.
Fire flashed in his eyes, but vanished a moment later. “What about him?”
“I went to the stables to see him yesterday, and he is quite vexed with you. He refuses to take his salary and wishes to be replaced.”
“And you do not think we should replace him?” Resignation rang in his voice and he held his head in both hands, elbows on his knees.
Even though he had done this to himself, she ached to ease his discomfort. She touched his hand, the silky hair poking through his warm fingers. Goose bumps ran up her arm and continued until every inch of her skin was sensitized. “It would be even more disruptive to lose him. I am told, despite his rather caustic demeanor, he is very good at his job.”
Markus turned his hand and took hold of hers. Looking up, his eyes filled with emotion, which she refused to put a label on. If someone would look at her that way for the rest of her life, she could be content, maybe even happy. Time stood still and the only existing world was in that office wrapped around the two of them. Her heart pounded out the rhythm of the universe.
A knock on the door broke the spell.
Pulling his hand away, he said, “I will speak to him.”
It took a force of will to get her pulse to slow and her breath to return to normal. She swallowed down desire. “Thank you, Markus.”
Another knock, this one less forceful.
“Come in.”
Honoria popped her head around the door, smiled, and floated into the room followed by Jared Blunt. She contemplated the tea tray, then Phoebe, and frowned. “I see you have had your tea. Phoebe, you look about to drop. Should you not go and rest until dinner?”
Markus sat up straight and stared at her. “Are you unwell?”
“I did not sleep last night. I am fine.”
A grunt sounded from Jared. “You should take a draft if you are not sleeping.”
“I do not care for the way they make me feel.” This was not a conversation she wished to have with Jared. “I will go up and rest for a while, if we are finished here, my lord.”
He stood with her and took her hand before bowing over it. “We are. Thank you, Miss Hallsmith.”
Determined to continue, Jared said, “Feel? They make you sleep.”
Phoebe turned to Honoria. “Will you accompany me upstairs?”
Giving Jared a stern look, Honoria nodded. “Of course.”
“My lord, you should insist she take a sleeping draft.”
Phoebe bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding. Who did Jared Blunt think he was? He had no right to force his will on her.
“Miss Hallsmith is a grown woman. She need not take advice from you or me, Mr. Blunt.” Markus’s firm, even voice followed her out the door.
His words rang in her head long after she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. If she were smart, she would pack her things and leave Rosefield immediately. She’d come to help Markus and Elizabeth. Developing feelings for him had not been part of the plan. No. She was stronger than that. It had been a long time since she had been courted, and she’d lost her head. That was all. It was ridiculous to consider loving Markus Flammel. He was Emma’s husband, and Emma was her best friend.
A small, distant voice called back, Emma is gone.
Sitting up, she shooed away the unpleasant voice. Dead or alive, she loved Emma, and more importantly, Markus loved Emma. She was not worthy of him anyway, so the point was moot. All she had to do was finish her task and go home. Once the staff was back and working and a nanny was hired, she would have no reason to stay at Rosefield and she would never see Markus again. In a week or two this would all be a distant memory.
Chapter 8
No. 19
A child shall never be scolded in anger. While a need for discipline exists, if one finds herself losing a grip on her state of total calm, she should take a few moments and recover before continuing.
And should someone else break this important rule, the Everton lady must and will take action.
—The Everton Companion
Rules of Conduct
Whenever Markus made progress away from his sorrow, life reminded him nothing would ever be the same. His attraction to Phoebe might not be wrong in the strictest sense of propriety, but it wasn’t right, either. Emma’s friends surely were off limits. But there was something about Phoebe that was not there before when she visited Emma. Perhaps all of this was just because they had both suffere
d a recent loss.
After all, Phoebe’s grandmother had died only a year before. She had suffered a long battle with her health. She was lucky to have had someone to care for her.
Emma was gone only…He had to think. How long had it been since he lost his sweet wife? There had been snow on the ground. His stupidity at thinking he could drink away his sorrow had robbed him of so much.
Markus walked out the door into the chill of the garden. There would be snow soon. Could it be two years since Emma’s death? Of course, it was. Elizabeth would be two in a few weeks. His loss was not so recent, yet it hurt as if it were yesterday.
Gripping his coat to his chest, he walked the path to the stables.
He’d only ridden out of need recently. Once he’d gotten a lot of pleasure from his horses.
A tall black named Warrior strode to the fence, pranced, and puffed clouds from his nostrils.
Markus petted his soft nose. “Good to see you too, boy. I hear your old friend Duck is still caring for you. You are in good hands in my absence.”
“As if you cared.” The gruff voice of Duck growled from the corner of the barn.
With one last pat for Warrior, Markus turned. “I have been neglectful.”
“You look about to drop. Are you ill?” While the question sounded concerned, the tone was more bark.
Drink and lies had brought his life to a standstill. It was time for honesty. “I was thinking of my wife.”
Duck’s sharp brown eyes shifted to the ground. His hands were swollen at the knuckles as he rubbed the leather harness he held. “She was a good woman, your lady.”
Markus walked forward until he stood in front of Duck. The man’s knuckles were swollen and he winced as he put the harness on a hook near the door. He’d been caring for all these animals with little or no help for months without pay. Shame staggered Markus. Pulling his shoulders back, he stared Duck in the eyes. “I lost myself in my grief, Duck. It is not an excuse, but it is a fact. I found solace in the bottle. I am not proud of these things, but I mean to make amends for the wrong I have done.”
“That baby of yours needs your amends more than old Duck does.” Duck sat on the bench next to the barn and patted the place beside him.
It was only a small gesture of kindness, but Markus swallowed down tears threatening. “Elizabeth has suffered the most from my neglect. It is beyond me how I will fix that. Though I intend to spend my lifetime trying.”
“She is like her mother and will have already put it in the past.”
Emma had forgiven him anything without even the need of an apology. He had often scolded her for letting him and everyone else get away with any manner of transgression. The servants adored her but often took advantage. Even when he scolded her, he admired her capacity for forgiveness. “Emma was a much better person than I am, Duck.”
“You’ll forgive her one day, my lord.” The sharp edge was back in his eyes.
“Forgive who?”
“Lady Emma.”
“She is dead, or have you forgotten? I have nothing to forgive her for. She is dead.” His heart tightened painfully and he gripped his chest. Unchecked fury surged to the forefront, squashing his dreaded anguish.
Duck nodded. “She left you. She died and left you all alone, tore the love out of your life and left you in tatters. It’s a hard thing to forgive.”
Markus dashed away a rebellious tear. “What do you know, old man?”
“It took me three years to forgive my boy for going to heaven when he was only nine years old. I was better prepared for when my sweet Gail was called home. Still, I was angry as you are now, my lord. It may be too soon, but one day you’ll have to forgive her.”
Forgive Emma? Markus pounded his fist on the bench, sending a shock of pain to his shoulder. She forgave his stupidity, drinking, antics, tantrums, and his horrible parents when they visited. All he had to forgive her for was dying.
Duck struggled to his feet and faced Markus. “Now, what was it you came all the way to the stable to say to me?”
Standing, Markus fisted his hands at his sides. The fury threatened to overwhelm his purpose. “I came to offer my apologies for my behavior. I would like for you to stay on here and allow me to pay you for your time spent. I will hire you as much help as you need and hope you will train your successor when you are ready to be pensioned.”
“I accept your apology, my lord.” Duck stuck out his gnarled hand for shaking.
Surprised by the strength of the shake, Markus still swallowed down the desire to punch the old man in the face. “Good.”
“It’s a start, son.”
Emma’s eyes flashed behind Markus’s closed eyes. He shook his head to clear it. “I will saddle a horse and go for a ride.”
Handing Markus the bridle from the hook, Duck nodded. “Take Warrior. He’ll take care of you.”
Warrior stomped and tossed his head, his black mane swooshing through the air, in favor of the suggestion.
Markus saddled the stallion while Duck ambled away. Never would he have imagined a conversation with Duck of all people would bring out such overwhelming emotion, but he had to wipe tears from his eyes to secure the girth. Once in the saddle, he rode south until he and Warrior were both exhausted. Tears streaked down his face, freezing in the cold wind.
Standing in one of his fields at the far edge of his property, he felt nothing was real anymore. His life a distant memory and the life he once had gone forever. Choices had to be made: a lifetime of misery and self-loathing, or possible happiness. Rage burned in his belly like the fires of hell. He’d been punishing himself for two years to avoid the truth. His fury at the person he loved most had sent him over the edge of reason and left him for dead. If he could have died with Emma, he would have been perfectly content. Many times, he wondered if death was not preferable to the purgatory he was living. His heart beat on, no matter how much he prayed it would stop.
Warrior stomped the frozen ground.
Markus walked a few feet away leaving the horse to munch on the stubs of harvested crops poking up from the soil. Walking to the edge of the forest that bordered his land, he turned and gazed back. Hope died with the sight of nothing but rolling fields of a spent growing season. Clouds grayed the sky, blocking the sun and bringing gloom to his already dead soul.
Emma did not stand waiting for him to arrive home after a long journey. Never again would she smile and tell him to calm himself. There would be no gentle touch when he drank too much at a house party to remind him of his duty to not become like his father. She had left him, not of her own free will, but she had left him alone in the world. For years, he poured all his love into her, matching her goodness with as much heart as he could spare. An empty shell remained and he didn’t know how to fill it.
Elizabeth’s sweet smile and infectious laughter brought some sense back.
Tears freely rolling down his face, he knelt. The cold seeped into his bones. “Emma, what am I to do?”
The wind howled from the north.
“You were the only thing keeping me from madness. I have become my father without you.”
Warrior blew a frustrated puff from his nose and kicked out both back legs.
“How do I go on? Father would drink until he forgot or did not care, but Elizabeth has suffered enough. I want to be the man you loved, but without you, I do not know how.”
The temperature dropped a few more degrees with the whip of another wind.
“I have not had a drink in over a week, but I long for one daily. Phoebe has come to help get the house in order. She and Elizabeth are fast friends. She cares for Elizabeth as if she were her own babe. I wish you could see.”
Warrior clomped closer and nudged Markus’s shoulder.
Markus petted Warrior’s silken nose and sat on the cold ground. “What do I do? I have not had a drink. Rosefield
is coming back together. I see my daughter, my sweet Elizabeth, and have fallen in love with her. But, Emma, I cannot forgive you. I want to, but I cannot. You left me with nothing.”
Shivering in the dropping temperatures, Markus leaned his head against Warrior’s lowered nose. He cried until his bones ached and his tears spent. “I must go home before I freeze to death, Emma. Tomorrow I will try to forgive you.”
He stood and ran his hand down Warrior’s neck. It was comforting to have the horse with him, nudging him back into the saddle. Climbing up, he took a breath and headed for home. His tears abated, replaced by a sense of calm he’d not had in a long time. The time for mourning was passed, and indulging in self-pity had to stop. Becoming a man like Father left him empty and beaten. He wouldn’t have it.
Having ridden Warrior hard to reach the edge of his land, he did not exceed a trot on the way back. Killing the horse was not in his plans. At the stables, he took the saddle and bridle off Warrior and brushed the horse down. Extra feed and water in his stall, Markus gave him one last pet along his sinewy neck before walking to the house.
In the few hours he’d been gone, several staff members had arrived to take their posts. Those he remembered from before he’d started drinking he asked to see in his study, where they each received an apology and a bonus check. It was not enough, but it was a start.
Anna, an under-maid, blushed and thanked him as she rushed to leave the study with her bank notes in hand.
“You may leave the door open, Anna.”
“Yes, my lord.” She curtsied and ran out.
Markus leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
“You are a willful and stupid child. I see I have my work cut out for me. Let to run like a wild animal. You are too stupid to even speak. What on earth am I to do with a mute imbecile to govern?” The unfamiliar female voice cut through his moment of peace.
A Lady's Honor Page 10