“I know,” Sophia replied coolly. “Shaw told me earlier, hence my arrival. Why else would I willingly present myself in a room of yours?”
She had a point there, but still, he stared at her in bewilderment. “Who?”
Sophia blinked once, then that single furrow appeared between her brows once more. “Shaw. Our butler. For heaven’s sake, Larkin…”
He rolled his eyes and moved to flop himself down in the wingback chair in the room. “I’ll learn it eventually. I wasn’t fully prepared when he came to me.”
“You have to prepare yourself to remember names? How encouraging.”
Larkin exhaled in a show of irritation. “If you can remember every name of every servant we have tomorrow morning, I will give up my claim to the pianoforte in the music room.”
Interest piqued in Sophia’s eyes. “Truly?”
“No, I only suggested it as a way to pass the time,” he retorted tersely. “Yes, truly. I have no use for instruments.”
“Then relent on the harp as well.”
That was an interesting request, given that he hadn’t offered the harp in the first place. Truth be told, he hadn’t any idea that there even was a harp. But, it seemed, Sophia had noticed, and that was her true interest.
Why else would she ask for it?
Larkin shook his head, restraining a triumphant smile. “No. Pianoforte or nothing.”
As he expected, his foe scowled. “Very well, you impossible lout. Challenge accepted.” She glanced behind her, sighing, before returning her attention to him. “I think it would be best if we establish a temporary truce between us while we greet the staff. They’ll get the true measure of you eventually, why sully this first encounter?”
Larkin had begun nodding until she had mentioned him specifically and conveniently left herself out. His eyes narrowed at her polite smile. “Agreed,” he said slowly, resuming his nodding. “I would hate to have word get out this early that the mistress of Rosennor is a spiteful cat. That sort of thing deserves time.”
He watched the edges of her smile freeze, then tension building there, before her lips formed a thin line that barely resemble a smile at all. “Indeed,” she murmured, somehow without moving her mouth at all.
“Pardon me, sir, ma’am,” intoned a pristine, deep voice with the barest hint of a Scottish brogue. “Your staff is assembled.”
Larkin turned his attention to the door, and to the taller than average but otherwise unremarkable in appearance butler. “Thank you, Shaw. Please, do lead on.”
Shaw bowed without smiling, though not with any formal coldness that some butlers had been known to possess. That would be fortunate, it would not do for Larkin to have a butler that would disapprove of him. Or, indeed, of his management of Rosennor.
He had enough doubts of his own, plus the incalculable number that Sophia would have in him, he did not need the addition of the staff. But he would prove himself wrong, and he would prove Sophia wrong. He would prove everybody wrong who may have thought that giving Rosennor to him would have been faulty.
He would prove more than capable.
Belatedly remembering their truce as they followed Shaw down the corridor, it occurred to Larkin to turn and offer Sophia his arm. He might not care for her, might think this whole thing a farce, but he would take his word of honor seriously. They needed to present a united front to the staff. One of respect and hospitality, if not outright generosity, and give the best first impression that was possible.
Sophia looked at his arm as though it were covered in boils. “Why?” she demanded through her teeth.
He held his arm out further. “Because we are the master and mistress of Rosennor, and our staff doesn’t know of our feud. First impressions, Sophia. Don’t be ridiculous.”
He felt more than heard her huff as she took his arm, bringing herself more directly beside him. “I am never ridiculous, Larkin,” she insisted.
“How fortunate for you,” he replied without concern. “I look forward to proving you wrong.”
She trod his toes sharply with the next step, making him stumble just before they moved into the entryway.
“Oh dear,” she murmured softly. “Mind your footing.”
Larkin only grunted in response and straightened as they came not full view of the rather extensive staff, all of whom were pleasant faced, clean, and perfectly in line.
Marvelous.
“Mr. Roth and Miss Anson,” Shaw announced with all the self-importance any good butler required, “may I present the staff of Rosennor Hall?”
With impeccable precision, the entire staff bowed or curtseyed as their sex dictated.
Shaw cleared his throat, and a slender woman of middling years stepped forward, her cheeks flushed with good-humor. “May I present the housekeeper, sir, ma’am. Mrs. Sexton. She has been at Rosennor for several years, and has served with grace, dignity, and efficiency. You shall find no one more attached to the place than she.”
Mrs. Sexton inclined her head, still beaming. “It is a pleasure to serve you both.” She stepped to the side and clasped her hands before her.
All eyes were on Larkin and Sophia, and a sudden sharp elbow in his side spurned him to take a step forward. “Thank you all for returning to Rosennor,” Larkin began without much by way of formality. “I know it can hardly be easy to do so with Sir Kentworth gone.”
There wasn’t much of a reaction to that; perhaps the old man was not well-loved.
All the better.
“You may have heard,” he continued, smiling for effect, “that Sir Kentworth was… most inventive with the details of his will, which is why you find Miss Anson and myself both here. The details pertinent to your tasks will be set forth in the coming days as Miss Anson and myself meet with Shaw and Mrs. Sexton, who will no doubt have a better understanding of your skills and abilities than we do. We look forward to coming to know you all, and trust that we have every reason to be pleased to employ you here.”
There. That seemed to be done well enough.
Larkin moved to step back, only to find Sophia stepping forward. “Of a note,” she said in a perfectly clear, strong voice, “Mr. Roth’s mother will be living here with us, for matters of practicality as well as her own health. She is in somewhat of a delicate health, so if any of you feel you possess any particular skills or desires to serve and tend to Mrs. Roth, please apply to Mrs. Sexton.” She exhaled, and the sound was almost a laugh. “It is a complicated muddle of things at Rosennor now, but I think we may all manage to find our way well enough. Even if we get lost a time or two.”
There was a bit of a chuckle from the group, and Larkin hid a scowl. Sophia was a worthy opponent, indeed. Truce or not, she had put herself forward as caring about his mother, and had succeeded in establishing a rapport with the staff as a whole.
Clever girl.
She stepped back, her smile particularly triumphant, as Shaw began to introduce the staff and their positions.
Larkin leaned closer to her. “Well done. Excellent strategy.”
Sophia merely smiled with serenity. “Simply doing as you suggested, Larkin. First impressions, you know. I only made the most of it.”
“Kindly do as you suggested, Sophia,” he replied as he nodded at the man introduced as his valet, “and mind your footing.”
Sophia hummed to herself. “Oh, I intend to, Mr. Roth. Once this day is through, the games will begin.”
Larkin nodded his agreement to that. “Tally-ho.”
CHAPTER 7
“I cannot do it, Miss Anson. I simply cannot. I will not endure one moment more.”
Sophia sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “Surely, Mrs. Leach, it is not so bad as all that.”
An indignant cough brought Sophia’s attention to the haughty and overdressed woman before her, her fading copper hair frazzling out from beneath her cap. “The woman is completely mad, Miss Anson! She speaks to her canopy at night!”
Sophia bit her lip to keep from laughing, and forced
her expression to be as composed as humanly possible. “I see,” she replied in a solemn tone.
Emboldened by an apparently listening ear, Mrs. Leach nodded vigorously. “She recites poetry of sorts. Whispers it as if to hide what she does. Smacks of witchcraft, Miss Anson, and I will not be party to such things. I am a good, Christian woman, and I will pray for her soul.”
“Hmm,” was all Sophia could say for a moment.
Where exactly was Larkin finding these women? This was the fourth one in the space of two weeks that Sophia had had to engage in this sort of conversation with, and while the exact details of each were certainly varied enough, the tone was exactly the same.
Mrs. Roth was mad.
They were all convinced of it.
Sophia, however, was not. Oh, there was no question that she was a touch ridiculous, and had her share of eccentricities, perhaps more than the average person, but mad?
No, there was no cause to go to that extreme with her.
“Well?” Mrs. Leach demanded with an almost shrill edge to her voice. “Have you no concern for her immortal soul, Miss Anson? Or your own?”
Now Sophia felt a slight smile spread across her lips.
Self-righteous wretch of a woman.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Sophia admitted with a sigh, her eyes narrowing as she took in the elaborate stained-glass design that sat atop the large window at the end of the west wing. “If I had an embroidered rendition of Hercules on my canopy at night, I might talk to him, too. Perhaps even compose sonnets, if I was so inclined.”
Mrs. Leach stared at Sophia, her expression one of horror and bewilderment. Then the plump woman crossed herself, picked up her carpet bag, and hurried past Sophia without another word.
Sophia watched her dart down the corridor to the stairs, grinning outright now.
“Good riddance, I say,” chirped the now-familiar tone of Mrs. Roth from behind her. “As if she knows anything about souls.”
“I completely agree,” Sophia answered with a laugh, turning to face the smiling woman. “Really, Mrs. Roth, did you have to work so tirelessly at irking her?”
Mrs. Roth beamed and winked. “Well, when she offered to read to me out of the book of Numbers during one of my resting periods, I thought enough was enough.”
Sophia shook her head, still smiling. She had come to appreciate the moments of clarity with this woman, who had a warm sense of humor and a keen mind at those times, and she suspected that the woman was well aware of her more ridiculous nature. And it seemed that Mrs. Roth would not make things easy for her caretaker, whoever the woman happened to be.
“So, I discussed the matter with Athena,” Mrs. Roth went on, her eyes turning brighter. “Lovely tapestry she is, most congenial goddess, and we decided that Mrs. Leach was not the woman for us.”
And now they were back to the ridiculous.
But Sophia only nodded and took Mrs. Roth’s arm, leading her back towards her suite of rooms. “Of course, Mrs. Roth. We will find someone better suited; don’t you worry. Larkin and I will see to it.”
“Larkin,” Mrs. Roth sighed with an almost sleepy nod. “Such a good lad. Always so attentive to me. Never had the slightest bit of ridiculousness about him. Hates olives, though. I’ve never met a single person who hates olives, have you?”
“No, madam,” Sophia replied without emotion, despite the fact that she knew several people who did not care for olives. She had learned in the last two weeks that it was far and away simpler to give a yes or no response without any explanation at all. Most of the time, one could get away with that.
Sometimes a real explanation was required, and the conversation could stretch on for an inordinate amount of time with varying levels of ridiculousness.
Mrs. Roth was most accommodating on this occasion, and did not require further discussion on the subject of olives. “Do you think Larkin would take tea with me today?” she asked Sophia with the innocent, eager air of a child. “Cook prepares the loveliest cucumber sandwiches, and I feel Larkin would enjoy them immensely.”
“I will send word to him,” Sophia assured her as she steered the woman back to her room.
“He is so busy,” Mrs. Roth went on, her pride in her son evident. “Matters of the estate to see to, you know.”
That took Sophia by surprise. She hadn’t been able to get a meeting with the estate manager for another week due to various other calls on his time, and she’d barely been able to walk the grounds to look at her lands, let alone to scour Larkin’s.
Most of her time since establishing herself at Rosennor had been taken up with situating her rooms as best as she could, what with Larkin’s interference. His refusal to yield on the utterly masculine dark paneling of her north drawing room had irked her for days, and the rug he’d brought into her breakfast room was utterly horrendous. She’d reciprocated, of course, and the tapestry of lambs in the meadow was a true masterpiece, a lovely work to hang in his study. And what else could that study possibly need more than the adorable writing desk she’d plucked from one of his guest rooms? White was such a lovely color when painted on wood, and when propped up on three books or so, one hardly noticed the wobbling at all.
He had nothing to complain about.
But it seemed to her that if he were gadding about the estate on business, he would not have much to complain about one way or the other as it was. Had he met with the manager before this? Had they been working together to take whatever advantage over her that could be had? Larkin could be a charming rascal, when it suited his ends, and if the estate manager were of a like mind…
“Has he been neglectful of you?” Sophia asked Mrs. Roth pointedly, entering the lady’s parlor, which, oddly enough, Larkin was perfectly content to let Sophia rearrange without intervention.
Mrs. Roth beamed in utter delight. “Oh, never! My Larkin is a joy, Miss Anson. He visits me every day, and yesterday took me for a walk about the garden. The roses are pristine, you know. I wonder if that is how the estate gained its name…”
Sophia smiled at that as she helped Mrs. Roth sit. “If the rose themed stained glass scattered about are any indication, Mrs. Roth, I dare say it is.”
A maid appeared with impeccable timing, smiling with warmth at Mrs. Roth and Sophia. “Pardon me, miss, ma’am. Mrs. Sexton saw Mrs. Leach leave, and asked if I might see to Mrs. Roth for the time being. Would that be all right, ma’am?”
Mrs. Roth eyed the girl, her eyes narrowing, and then she nodded once. “I shall call you Willow, my pet.”
“Her name is Alice, Mrs. Roth,” Sophia reminded her gently, laying a hand on her shoulder.
That hand was immediately swatted. “I’ll name her what I like while she tends me, Sophia, no matter what she was christened in this life.”
Sophia rolled her eyes heavenward and smiled as best as she could at Alice, who did not seem bothered one way or the other about it. “Thank you, Alice.”
Alice shrugged one narrow shoulder. “No thanks necessary, miss. I find the name Willow to be most apt for myself, and I shall be content to bear it while I can.”
“That’s the spirit, my girl!” Mrs. Roth cried, extending a many ringed hand towards her. “Come here at once, do you know the goddess Athena?”
Sensing the perfect opportunity to escape, Sophia bobbed a quick curtsey to Mrs. Roth and sidled out of the room without any further ado.
She had to think quickly, had to make the most of what she had just learned. She dashed down her stairs, up the narrow corridor between the breakfast room and orangery, through the ballroom as a shortcut, and, finally, arrived in the foyer, out of breath and slightly panting.
The scope of Rosennor was astounding, and she felt that all too keenly.
If Larkin would let her use the gallery as a passage, she would be able to enter the main of the house far more easily.
But Larkin was impossible, and he would not.
Sophia glanced about quickly, then stepped to a small looking glass in the foyer to t
idy her hair and set herself to rights, then moved towards the kitchens and the servants’ quarters, heart still pounding from her exertions.
Mrs. Sexton appeared before she arrived at the door and beamed with her usual warmth at her. “Miss Anson, what a pleasure. Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Sophia said in a bit of a rush. “Do you happen to know if Mr. Roth is at home at present?”
“I am not certain, miss,” came the cautious reply. “Would you like me to send for him?”
Heaven forbid.
Sophia shook her head. “No, not at all. I only need a message to reach him, and I am not permitted in his wing, you know.”
Mrs. Sexton nodded in confirmation, though her eyes danced with mirth. “Indeed, miss.”
“Could you have a message sent?” Sophia asked, plastering an innocent smile on her face.
“Of course.”
“Wonderful. His mother has declined the continued company of Mrs. Leach, who has taken her leave of Rosennor.” Here Sophia released a heavy sigh that Mrs. Sexton echoed.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Sexton murmured, her wide, pale brow creasing.
Sophia wrinkled her nose. “Indeed. He’ll not be pleased to hear that.” She cleared her throat and straightened. “And then he must know that Mrs. Roth bids him to join her for tea. She is to have cucumber sandwiches that she believes he will enjoy.”
Mrs. Sexton nodded and clasped her hands. “Very good, Miss Anson. I will go to him myself.” She turned and started towards the east wing, then glanced back. “Would you… like to be informed of Mr. Roth’s reply?”
Sophia rather thought Mrs. Sexton a wonderful woman, and rather intuitive as well. “That would be splendid, Mrs. Sexton. I shall wait here.”
For a moment, she thought the older woman would laugh, but somehow, she kept the laughter contained in her eyes and one corner of her lips alone before disappearing into the depths of the east wing.
It occurred to Sophia to be a mite irked that she had rearranged many of the rooms in that particular wing, and yet was not privileged to see them. All she could do was recall from their first tour of Rosennor what each looked like and rely on the servants to give her as many details as they could as they carried out her instructions.
The Rivals of Rosennor Hall (Entangled Inheritance Book 3) Page 8