by Kimberly Nee
“So there is to be a wedding?” If it were possible, Abigail’s ears would have actually pricked up. “Whose wedding? You mentioned something about Madame Fontaine earlier, but you never said which lady was to be married. Is it Sally or Edna?”
“They are Lady Sally and Lady Edna to you. Lady Sally will marry the younger Captain Sebastiano, and Lady Edna will marry Mr. Warington when he returns from the Colonies,” Mrs. Bates replied absently, peering at something over Abigail’s shoulder. “But neither has been formally announced, so don’t go around gossiping about it, is that understood?”
“Yes, Mrs. Bates.” Abigail was all wide eyes and innocent smiles.
“Good. Now, take this up to the drawing room. The ladies will be wanting sweets after their meal.” Mrs. Bates held out a small silver tray holding an array of the delicious-looking biscuits Mrs. North had been baking all afternoon. “And don’t let me catch you pinching any.”
“Yes, Mrs. Bates.” Abigail bobbed her head as she accepted the tray, and her skirts swished loudly as she hurried to finish the task.
Martha looked over at Katie and then at the housekeeper. “I’d watch that one if I were you, Mrs. Bates.”
Mrs. Bates’s steel-gray eyebrows lowered until they almost met over her hawk-like nose. “Why do you say that?”
“She puts on airs, and I don’t trust her.”
Katie stared at Martha, who didn’t seem at all troubled by her pronouncement. She was her usual, serene self. Katie wondered how it felt, to be so certain of oneself. It seemed as if she spent most of her time second-guessing every little thing she thought or said. Then again, Martha had been in service at Marchand Hall for years. She was comfortable here, and the staff was her family, and most likely no one would jump on her for saying the wrong thing.
For Katie, a life in service was new—although she did her best to hide that from the others—and she was still learning her place in the house. Martha liked her. Mrs. Bates liked her. Most importantly, Lady Sally and the Countess liked her. Marchand Hall had, in a very short time, become her home, and she only hoped that one day they would feel the same toward her as they did toward Martha. Even so, she hadn’t reached a point where she felt comfortable not being so vigilant about what she said.
“Why wouldn’t you? She came with excellent references.” Mrs. Bates looked from Katie to Martha. “Is there something you know about her? Has she claimed something false?”
Martha shook her head. “I don’t know why I don’t trust her. It’s mostly just a feeling.”
“Well, unless you can come up with a better reason than a ‘feeling’, you’d be best served to keep it to yourself.”
“I beg your pardon, ladies, but would one of you be able to go up and pour the wine?” Mr. Jamison came into the kitchen, his usual stern look firmly in place. “I cannot find Robert or Edward, and Marcus is waiting for me to begin serving.” He puffed up his already broad chest, which made him look more imposing than usual. “It’s not like them to not show up at supper.”
Martha’s brow furrowed. “Did they leave Marchand Hall for something?”
“Of course not. I would know about that, wouldn’t I?” Mr. Jamison’s dark eyes bored into Martha as if she’d just suggested the men might have gone for a stroll on the moon. “You.” He gestured at Katie with a thick forefinger. “Go and serve the white wine. And take care not to spill any. A maid serving at table… What else might go wrong this evening?”
Katie’s heart jumped, and she stammered, “I—I think it’d be best if Martha went up instead. Her hands are far steadier than mine.”
“Be that as it may, I—”
“And Mrs. Bates has already told me to go with Abigail to ready the drawing room for the ladies.”
“Don’t trouble yourself with that, Katie.” Mrs. Bates waved off her protest as if it were no more than a pesky fly. “Go on, then. Up you get. Martha, you can help Abigail instead.”
Out of reasons to protest, Katie could do nothing more than try not to outwardly panic. “Yes, Mrs. Bates.”
She chewed absently on her thumbnail as she watched Martha go. How could she disobey both Mr. Jamison and Mrs. Bates? They’d be furious, and she didn’t know what would happen then. Didn’t know, and had no desire to find out.
If she went above and Mrs. Sebastiano—or anyone else—recognized her and pointed out who she was, she’d be in even hotter water.
The question was, which choice would scald her?
Willing her knees to stop quaking, Katie mounted the servants’ staircase to the main floor. It took every bit of will she possessed to not run right back to the kitchen and hide for the rest of her life. Her feet didn’t want to take the stairs, but duty demanded that she keep going. Each footfall resonated like thunder. This must be how the condemned felt as they approached the hangman’s gallows.
As she approached the landing to the main floor, she held her breath. Like a wave, the voices of all the guests rushed toward her in a rising buzz, washing over her to leave her soaked head to toe in nervous energy.
When she caught sight of Rafe at the far end of the table, seated near his father and Lord Marchand, the buzzing receded. It was the first time she’d ever seen him in such finery. He looked beyond handsome dressed in formal black. His dark hair blended with the fine fabric of his frock coat, while the dazzling white of his lawn shirt and cravat stood out in stark contrast to his olive skin.
Both families had begun eating. The conversations were carried out in low voices, speaking of unimportant things, and no one seemed to take notice of her, which made it easier to stop shaking. She looked up to find Mr. Jamison just coming into the dining room behind her. He caught her eye and gave a subtle bob of his head. Encouragement, judging by the slight smile. It was only a brief display, but enough to make her more confident in her own ability to serve. Everything would be fine.
It had to be.
She reached to pluck the stopper from the decanter. Her fingers slipped on the crystal, but she maintained her grasp and didn’t drop it, and pride shot through her. Silly, perhaps, but it did much to aid the calmness settling over her.
“A bit of wine, m’lady?” She held the decanter over Lady Marchand’s glass.
“Thank you.”
Wine tinkled into the glass, but no one really looked up as she went from body to body. She recognized all of them—Rafe’s younger brothers, Conn and Galen, and his sisters, Serena and Elena. The resemblance was strong.
Thankfully, she was almost back to her senses by the time she reached the far side of the table.
Rafe gave her a smile, one that made his eyes sparkle, and she willed him to remain quiet. He was rather outspoken and had something of a devilish streak. A prank wouldn’t be beneath him, although outing her now would be cruel, and he wasn’t a cruel man.
That didn’t stop her from giving a prayer of thanks when he merely held up his glass. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course not, Captain Sebastiano.”
The sparkle in his eyes sharpened as she finished pouring. He lifted the glass to his mouth and said, “I thank you,” before taking a sip.
She moved the rest of the way around the table. Her mouth went dry as she approached Rafe’s mother. “More wine, my lady?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Sebastiano’s voice was soft, light and pleasant, and when she looked up at Katie, she smiled. Her eyes were so beautiful that Katie couldn’t help but look at them a bit longer. They were swirling gray, so pale they looked almost silver. Only two of her children had inherited their mother’s unusual eyes—Aidrian and Serena.
But then those eyes narrowed. For one terrifying moment, Katie thought she was going to say something, and a wave of nausea rose up with enough force to make her wince.
She focused on her hands, willing them to remain steady, and managed to pour without spilling a drop. When she finis
hed, the only thing Mrs. Sebastiano said was, “Thank you,” before she rejoined the conversation, leaving Katie nearly lightheaded with relief. Disaster averted for now.
Katie brought the wine back to the sideboard to set it amongst its fellow decanters, and Mr. Jamison joined her, murmuring, “Very good,” under his breath as he aligned the decanters in perfect symmetry. “Mrs. Bates needs you below. Robert has finally returned.”
“Where was he?”
“Never you mind. Just go.”
With that, Robert came into the room, bearing a silver tray laden with the main meal. He didn’t look any worse for the wear, and neither Mr. Jamison nor Mrs. Bates seemed to have taken their pound of flesh from his back. Wherever he’d been, all was forgiven now. She was forgotten as he and Mr. Jamison began the slow task of serving the meal to the family and their guests, and she slipped back out into the servants’ corridor, where she sank against the wall and let her eyes close. Everything felt a little brighter now, her shoulders felt lighter and her spirits rose a bit higher than her ankles. It was over and she’d survived unscathed. It was all she could ask for, and with any luck, no more footmen would go missing while the Sebastiano family resided at Marchand Hall.
Downstairs, Martha was sitting at the massive table where the servants shared their meals, her face equal parts anger and relief. Her normally tranquil eyes were now as stormy as the ocean. Katie drew out the chair next to her. “What’s the matter?”
“That…that…bitch.”
It wasn’t often Martha got angry, rarer still that she swore, and the amount of fury within those three words was enough that Katie stared at her in shock. “Who?”
Martha folded her arms. “Who do you think? Abigail, that foolish little chit.”
“Oh, dear.” Katie tapped her fingertips on the table. “What did that foolish little chit do?”
“She tried to get me sacked!”
“What?” Katie couldn’t hold back her sharp breath. That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. “What—? How? What did she do?”
Martha rubbed her forehead with one long-fingered hand, slouching in the chair. “It’s my own fault, I suppose, but still… Lady Edna came into the parlor before she went into the dining room, and she snatched a biscuit. I was there, and she offered me one. You know how I love them… It’s so difficult to ever say no, and we don’t get them all that often.”
“I know. So what happened?”
“Mrs. Bates apparently counted out how many went on each plate. She likes to keep things in even numbers and all, and when she realized two plates were short one, she naturally wanted to know what happened.”
“Naturally.” This came as no surprise. Mrs. Bates noticed anything that wasn’t in order, and that included mismatched plates of biscuits. She’d be like a hawk about it, swooping down to count them and going after those who purloined them.
Twin spots of color appeared on Martha’s cheeks. “Abigail told her I took them both. And since Lady Edna had already left for dinner, I had no way to prove I didn’t steal them.” Her eyes grew red and shiny, and she sniffed before dabbing at them with the hem of her apron. “And now Mrs. Bates is furious with me.” Her voice broke and she buried her face entirely in her apron. “She told me to leave the dining area and go directly to our room. That she would speak to me in the morning. That can’t possibly be good.”
“Why on earth would she do such a thing?” Katie shifted to wrap her arms about Martha and hug her. “And why wouldn’t Mrs. Bates listen to you? She knows you; she must trust you. You’ve never stolen anything before. Why would you pinch a biscuit, of all things?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Abigail overheard me saying I didn’t trust her and thought a little revenge would be sweet. Maybe she just doesn’t like me either.” Martha leaned into her, her voice hitching with every other word. “What I do know is that I’m in trouble now. I’ve never been in trouble with Mrs. Bates. I couldn’t believe how red-faced she got. I suppose I should be thankful she didn’t outright fire me. Any other head housekeeper most likely would.”
“I’ll speak to her if you like, tell her Lady Edna offered one to you.”
“I doubt it will do any good. You weren’t there.” Martha sniffed and lifted her head to manage a watery smile. “But I appreciate it just the same. I’ll just have to hope that her Ladyship speaks up for me.”
“I’m sure she will, she’s so fond of you. But you may want to keep tabs on Abigail.” Katie looked around in vain. Abigail was nowhere in the room. “Where is she, anyway?” she asked, pulling away to stand up. “I’ll have a bit of a word with her.”
“Oh, please don’t do anything foolish.” Martha grabbed her by the forearm. “Not on my account. I don’t want to see you sacked because of me.”
“I won’t. But I will remind her that she is the newcomer. I’ve dealt with people far worse than Abigail and it wouldn’t take much to prove that to her.”
“I can just see you pinching her ear.” Martha’s laugh was weak but genuine. “Do take care, Katie. I should hate to see you end up in hot water with Mrs. Bates as well.”
Katie paused to give Martha her most reassuring grin. “You needn’t worry. I’ll just make it clear to her that she should think twice before causing any more trouble.”
Martha shrugged. “Do you think it will serve any purpose? She seems to do what she wishes, if it is to her advantage.”
Katie moved to the kettle to put it over the fire. Martha looked as if she could use a nice cup of tea. “I don’t know, to be honest. But it can’t hurt, can it?”
Mrs. North came back into the kitchen, pausing to peer at the kettle. “Is something the matter, Martha? Are you crying?”
“I’ll be fine, Mrs. North.” Martha nodded toward the shelf where the tins of tea were kept. “Would you mind if I had some tea?”
“I don’t mind at all, as long as it won’t get either of us in trouble.” Mrs. North turned away from them to holler, “Lucy! We need to finish washing these dishes!”
“Beg pardon, Mrs. North.” Lucy scurried into the room, giving Martha and Katie the quickest of glances before diving into the stacks of dirty dishes.
Katie sighed as she prepared the tea. “Martha, why don’t you go to our room and I’ll bring this to you. Just to be on the safe side.”
With another sniff, Martha nodded and rose from her chair. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
As Martha left the room, Mrs. North came over to Katie, leaning very close to whisper, “Is she in trouble?”
“A bit. But I think everything will be fine in the morning. Tell me, would you happen to know where Abigail’s got to?” Katie managed to smile.
“Actually, yes. She made mention of his Lordship offering her the chance to take a book from his library. Said she’d been having trouble sleeping lately and perhaps a good book would help.”
“Wonderful. Thank you.”
When the tea was ready, she picked up the cup, bid Mrs. North a good evening, and left to bring it to Martha, who looked no less upset and whose eyes were redder and puffier still.
“Try not to worry,” Katie told her, pressing the cup into her hand. “I will deal with Abigail. You rest.”
“Thank you, Katie.” Martha patted her hand. “Just be careful.”
“I will.”
She left Martha with her tea and made her way below to the library. It should be empty now, with the ladies in the drawing room and the men having retired to the billiards room.
But when she entered the room, she came face to face with Galen and Conn Sebastiano, flopped rather casually on the sofa closest to the hearth. And they weren’t alone. Both of their sisters were there as well, standing together before the shelves of leather-bound books. For a horrifying moment that seemed more like an eternity, Katie wished she could make herself invisible.
She would have liked to slip back out of the room; however, they all looked up when the door opened, which seemed to leave no recourse but to ask if any of them had seen Abigail. She felt utterly foolish, having to ask them if they’d seen a maid. As if they would take notice of a servant.
Before she could say anything, Conn grinned at her. “What brings you here? Looking for someone?”
“I am, as a matter of fact. I wonder, have you seen a servant, about my age, come through here?”
“We’ve seen a few,” he replied with a lazy smile. “You might have to narrow it down some. There are too bloody many of you.”
“My age. My height. Dark hair. Turned-up nose.”
“Oh, well, that narrows it down.”
This drew a grin from Galen, who gestured toward the rear of the library, where two doors led to separate parts of the house. “One went that way, but I didn’t see which door. That’s not what I was looking at.”
“Galen!” Serena turned away from the bookshelves to glare at her brother. “Mind yourself.”
“She’s only a maid,” Galen muttered, scowling.
“Be that as it may, show some manners. Mami would box your ears if she heard you.”
“Mami would box your ears,” Galen mimicked her tone perfectly. “Who needs Mami when you’re her little parrot?”
Katie was sure Serena was going to throw the heavy-looking book she held at her brother, but Elena broke in with a quiet, “I think she went down that passageway.” She pointed to the right-hand door, which led to the bachelors’ wing upstairs. “She was following Rafe.”
“No, Lena, she was chasing him. And they went down that hall right there,” Serena corrected, pointing at the corridor directly opposite.
Katie swallowed a rising groan. Now Abigail had Rafe in her sights. She didn’t want to remain there, in the library, where one of them still might recognize her. She just wanted to leave, to put as much space between them as possible.
“No, Elena’s right. She went through the right door.” Conn sat up, the leather squeaking from his shifting weight, and winked at her.