by Sue London
“Good night, Mr. Dibbs. Oh! Mr. Dibbs?”
He paused in the doorway. “Yes?”
“I… I apologize, but I seem to have lost track of the cat.”
“I should have told you. She and the earl have found an accord.”
Grace covered her mouth in shock. “Oh no. She’s bothering the earl? I’m so sorry.”
“Believe me when I say that if he did not care for her company he would be quite explicit about it. But if you would like her returned I could most likely fetch her for you now. I’m sure that if she’s the only thing you have left from your old life you are quite attached to her.”
“Oh no, I rescued her from some boys who were taunting her a few days ago. Well, rescued her with some help from a young woman who was passing by at the same time. I’ve never had a cat before, but she seemed content to stay with me and was good company. So I suppose I reached an accord with her as well, but now she has traded up to a peer of the realm.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to fetch her?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Dibbs pulled the door closed behind him and Grace had to admit that she suddenly felt rather lonely. Perhaps Bitsie would have been good company. She set to making the bed. Fortunately Mr. Dibbs had included two heavy woolen blankets to help ward off the chill. There was also a clean, dry chemise among the clothes on the chair. She changed and took her hair down from its braid. After finger combing it out she rebraided it into a simple plait for sleeping. She had no idea what time it was, but nestled down into the bed and waited for the chilly sheets to be warmed by her body heat. She dozed off without having that good cry that she promised herself.
Chapter Five
Dibbs let himself into his chambers. As the most senior staff in the household he had both a bedroom and a sitting room. His accommodations were luxurious compared to the room where he had just left Miss Ashman. He felt vaguely guilty leaving her in that small, cold space all alone. Not that he had any alternative. Although when she had touched his arm it had given him impulses that he doubted she meant to incite. He closed his eyes to more perfectly remember the feel of her fingers on his skin. Just that light brush had warmed him like candle flame. It made him wonder what it would be like to touch her, hold her. He regretted hesitating and leaving it to Whit to wipe the flour from her chin. Whit. The man had always been a flirt, since they were boys. Usually it was just a duty to ensure that Whit didn’t make the staff uncomfortable with his attentions. Some of the shy girls weren’t the type to defend themselves as they should, but they all knew that Dibbs would address the issue if they came to him.
Dalliance amongst the staff was something Dibbs actively discouraged, although the marriages that occurred over the years made it clear that romance did at times bloom.
*
Grace awoke to the sound of knocking. Then she heard Dibbs’ voice. “Miss Ashman, are you awake?”
She could have sworn she had only been asleep for a moment, but the dim light from the window was testament to the night’s passing. The bed was delightfully warm and she regretted tossing back the covers and facing the chilly air. “I am awake, Mr. Dibbs. I’ll be down shortly.”
“Very well.” His steps moved away down the hall.
She rushed to check the ewer on top of the bureau but it did not have water in it. She would need to make sure to fill it tonight. Hopping from foot to foot she quickly donned stockings. She pinned her plait up and tied on a cap she found in the clothes Dibbs had left for her. Finally she pulled on a uniform and her half boots. The uniform was ill fitting, a bit long and loose at the waist, but it would do until she found a needle and thread to take it in. She tied on the apron she found in the dwindling stack of clothes. It was woefully wrinkled after having been toted around the house in a stack, but would have to do today. Taking a moment to look down at herself in the dim light she wrinkled her nose in distaste. How terribly domestic. She knew that the people in this house would most likely dismiss her own class as the less desirable one, but she couldn’t imagine living the whole of her life in service. Then she blew out a breath. Perhaps she should imagine it unless she wanted to spend it on the street instead.
*
Dibbs had just finished building the kitchen fire when Miss Ashman entered the room. She looked rumpled and tired, but gave him a warm smile. “Good morning, Mr. Dibbs.”
“Good morning, Miss Ashman. I believe the first thing we must do is discuss how we are to get on. Especially over the next few days as we have so few staff in residence.”
“As you wish, Mr. Dibbs.”
He poured two mugs of tea and set them on the table. “Have you made your list of items for Joey to take to market yet?”
“I meant to ask you yesterday where I might find paper.”
“I am already forgetting that you don’t know your way around.” Dibbs wondered if he should be alarmed at how quickly and naturally Miss Ashman had become part of their lives. She hadn’t even been in the house for a full day yet. In his desperation he had accepted her into service with no references and very little knowledge of her history and character. But he was, honestly, still desperate, and hopeful she would take on yet more tasks. He retrieved a scrap of paper and pencil from a cabinet and returned to the table. She had her fingers wrapped around her mug and was waiting for him politely. He settled into his chair, picked up his own mug, and cleared his throat. “Well, Miss Ashman, we will obviously curtail the household duties to only those most necessary. I know that cooking can be a consuming task, but hope that you might also be able to do some other things as well?”
“However I can help, Mr. Dibbs.”
Miss Ashman drank her tea as Dibbs outlined all the important considerations of running an earl’s household in Town. By the time the sky outside the kitchen window had brightened with dawn they had agreed on a plan. Dibbs left to fetch Joey while Miss Ashman wrote out the shopping list and started the earl’s breakfast.
*
By noon Grace had cooked two meals for the household, cleaned the four downstairs rooms Dibbs had requested, and had her third batch of biscuits in the oven. Her mind was going over menu ideas for the next few days, focused mostly, of course, on the importance of Christmas. There were some more things she would need to send Joey out to fetch from the market. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Whit stealing a biscuit from the cooling rack.
“Mr. Whitman!” she admonished with mock severity. “Did your mother teach you no better?”
“My mother died when I was an infant,” he said. “But I’m sure if she’d lived her biscuits couldn’t have rivaled yours.”
Grace took a step back in shock. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
Then she heard Dibbs say from behind her. “Don’t listen to him. His mother is alive and well. And can’t cook to save her life.”
Dibbs was busy loading his tray with the earl’s luncheon.
After giving an unrepentant Whit a reproving frown, Grace turned to Dibbs. “Can I help you carry or serve?”
“No, I’m all right. Are those biscuits for the earl’s tea?”
“Some of them need to be saved for Christmas.” She flicked her towel at Whit as he filched another, making him drop the biscuit on the floor. He gave an aggrieved frown, picked up the broken pieces and ate them. “You’re worse than a child,” Grace said. “It’s hard to believe you’re a man grown.”
“Perhaps just a few for the earl’s tea, then,” Dibbs said, giving Whit a speaking glare before saying to Grace, “Tell me if you need the remainder locked up.”
Whit made a face at the butler’s back as Dibbs left with the tray. Grace wasn’t sure whether to laugh or admonish him. The valet hoisted himself up to sit on the table, legs swinging as he regarded her.
“Will there be any shortbreads?” he asked in a hopeful tone.
“You’ve done this since you were a boy, haven’t you? Charmed what you
can out of people and stolen the rest.”
He smiled at her. “You think I’m charming.”
“No, I think you try to be charming. From what I can tell you’re, well, you’re shiftless.”
He drew himself up, crossing his feet at the ankles and smoothing the cuffs of his shirt. His expression changed to one of near piety. “I’ll have you know that I am charged with maintaining the earl’s personal appearance. He is never without the perfect linens and clothing for any and every part of his day. Beau Brummel himself would be hard pressed to find fault with how the earl is turned out for every occasion.” Whit slumped again and flicked a negligent hand. “Then he goes out and gallops his horse across half-hell or does some other foolish thing and I wonder why I bother.”
Grace chuckled and slid another tray of biscuits in the ovens. “I think I will never understand Quality.”
“Why do you say that?”
“What is the point of having someone tasked with, what did you call it? Maintaining your personal appearance.” She shook her head. “Of all the things.”
“Well, look at you. You’re a pretty girl. But with a lady’s maid who saw to your appearance you could be stunning.”
“That’s just silly. Why would I need to be stunning anyway?”
“To catch a husband, of course.” He cocked his head to the side, studying her. “Yes,” he murmured, “a lady’s maid would know how to highlight those lovely brown eyes of yours. What colors would make your skin look flawless.”
Grace felt herself flushing under his scrutiny. “I don’t need a husband.”
He ignored her statement. “I think we can conclude,” he said with some asperity, “that gray is not your color.”
She plucked at the ill-fitting uniform. “There’s not much I can do about this.”
“You aren’t going to work every minute of every day, are you? As there are no lady’s maids about, perhaps I can advise you on choosing colors. In exchange for biscuits.”
“Now you’re bargaining?” She couldn’t help but to laugh.
“You called me shiftless. It’s apparent that I need to work for my biscuits rather than simply begging.”
“Or stealing.” Grace shook her head and gave up fighting him with a helpless shrug. “You are incorrigible, Mr. Whitman.”
He grinned at her again. “So they tell me.”
Chapter Six
Later that afternoon Grace found herself bearing a tea tray into the earl’s study. Dibbs had said that the earl would likely soon notice there were no other servants about and that it was often a maid that served tea. He gave her explicit instructions on precisely where to set the tray and exactly how to prepare the cup. Even though he assured her that he would be nearby, he sent her into the room alone. She found herself shockingly intimidated by the task and was surprised the china wasn’t rattling from how badly her hands were shaking. She had never met a member of the Quality and felt at quite a disadvantage to be doing so in an ill-fitting uniform performing a task she was woefully unqualified to fulfill. She focused on delivering the tray to the assigned table until she had finally set it down safely. Then she looked to where the earl sat at his desk writing amongst stacks of papers. He was a large man. His dark hair was even longer than Dibbs’ and wavy. He wore a coat of lustrous bright blue that she assumed was worth more than her father’s entire shop. Bitsie sprawled near his elbow but stood to stretch and walk across the desk towards Grace. The cat’s movement served to draw the earl’s attention away from his papers.
Grace was glad she was no longer holding the tray when the earl’s eyes raised to hers because she surely would have dropped it. Her first thought was that he was shockingly pretty. Perhaps not the right word, but he was beautiful in a masculine and intimidating way. Like one would expect of a god or a king. It was apparent that the coat had been chosen to match his eyes because she saw they were a dark, intense blue in the few seconds he looked at her before his gaze narrowed. Perhaps the overall affect of his person was what came of having a servant maintain one’s personal appearance.
“I don’t know you,” he announced.
Grace didn’t know what to say. Fortunately Dibbs appeared at her side almost immediately.
“Indeed not, my lord. Miss Ashman has only recently come to work for us.”
“I see,” the earl replied. He returned his attention to the papers in front of him.
Dibbs gave Grace a pointed look and motioned towards the tea tray. Of course! She was here to prepare tea, not gawk at the earl. She swiftly prepared the cup and, holding her breath anxiously, placed it on the earl’s desk as Dibbs had instructed earlier, along with a small plate of her biscuits. After that she and the butler quickly withdrew.
They retreated to the kitchen. Grace could see Dibbs was looking at her with concern so she pulled a face and said, “He’s just a bit intimidating, isn’t he?” Her crack served to dissolve the tension and, looking at each other, they broke into gales of laughter.
Grace wiped the tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes. “Mercy me, I thought I might die when he said he didn’t know me. He doesn’t know all the staff, does he?”
Dibbs gave a rueful chuckle. “Oh yes, he does. I was hopeful that he just wouldn’t look up.”
Grace poked him in the shoulder. “You could have warned me.”
“What on earth could I have said that would have prepared you for the earl without making you more nervous than you already were?”
Dibbs was smiling as he looked down at her and Grace thought she much preferred summer sky blue to the darker, more intense hue of the earl’s eyes. Much preferred.
*
Christmas Eve dawned frosty. As Dibbs stoked the fires below-stairs he thought that the earl’s first full day in the townhouse had gone as well as possible. Now there were only two days left before the regular staff would start to come back to the London house. Certainly they could survive two days. Even if those days were Christmas Eve and Christmas. That reminded him that he hadn’t asked after Miss Ashman’s intentions for the Christmas day menu. Her efforts thus far had proven that she was capable of keeping them well fed until Cook returned. His only concern was that she might want to put too much effort into making it a celebration.
Dibbs heard boots in the front hall and thought that perhaps the earl had come down for an early morning ride. Fortunately Whit had volunteered to see to the fires and other small tasks in keeping the earl’s rooms comfortable, but the lord would expect to see Dibbs about the main of the house even at so early an hour. The butler hurried to the front hallway and drew up short at the scene he encountered. At first it appeared two living mounds of greenery were moving through to the parlor, one shorter than the other. Then he realized it was the stable master and his son.
Dibbs wasn’t sure he could find his voice. “What are…” he started faintly.
He heard a soft footfall and Miss Ashman stepped up beside him, sliding her arm through his at the elbow. “Isn’t it exciting?” she asked. “He said we could do whatever we like, and I love Christmas.” She hugged on his arm and looked up, eyes sparkling with mirth. And, he thought, with rebellion. She knew. She knew that he wouldn’t have supported this if she had asked him. But her smile dared him to counter her now. Perhaps, for just a moment, he felt some sympathy for her brother. He couldn’t find it within himself to be truly angry, though. She seemed earnest about her love of the season. And certainly it would bring some cheer to a household that was otherwise without a touch of Christmas spirit.
As he remained quiet staring down at her, she jostled his arm and asked, “Don’t you want to help put up the greenery?”
“What makes you think I have time?”
“It’s Christmas!” she admonished. “Everyone makes time for Christmas.”
With that she released his arm and entered the parlor to direct Joe and Joey on sorting and hanging the greenery. Dibbs returned to his duties and hoped that the household decorations wouldn’t be a b
other to the earl.
*
Grace blew out a frustrated breath as she walked into the parlor to help the Joes. That had been harder than she expected. It had been clear that left to his own devices, Dibbs would have all but ignored the season. If she had been more certain of continued employment after the rest of the staff returned she might have been more reticent, might have been willing to give up a last chance to enjoy the season in some comfort. But she had no assurances. Yes, the butler was desperate for her assistance now and might even be grateful enough to give her some wages when she left, but she had no reason to believe that there was a position for her in the household. She was woefully unqualified for any position that might need to be filled. Now that she had accepted her reduced circumstances she was thinking more clearly about her future. She would need to work, but it would be best to approach the shops. At least then she could find work more in line with her experience and background.
The worst part, however, had been the entirely blank expression that Dibbs had given her. She had certainly seen how in his professional capacity he cultivated a bland mien, but with her he always had some sort of reaction, subtle though it might be. Perhaps just a crinkle at the edge of his eyes when he almost smiled. Or a wrinkle between his brows when he almost frowned. Honestly, she chided herself. She had only known the man for a day and a half. There was no always to it. Although, now that she thought of it, she was probably at the mid-point of the entire time she would know him. Unless she worked in a shop that he would by some chance frequent, there was no reason to believe that they would see each other again once she left this household.
She stiffened her spine and refused to be maudlin. She had already lost many things. Her mother, her father, her home. But right now, at this moment, she had an opportunity to spend her holiday in a beautiful house in Mayfair. She could make the choice to grieve what she had lost and would soon lose, or she could celebrate what she had now, no matter how fleeting. She could make the holiday special for herself and the six people stranded here with her.