“Ah, my Lady, you’re awake. I was afraid I’d woken you earlier. Did you sleep well? Lord Chancellor Haddington has been asking after you.”
“Yes, Sarah, thank you. I slept well.”
“And how are you feeling, my Lady?”
“A bit peaked still, Sarah.”
“Oh, that’s not good.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“I mean,” Sarah began, and cleared her throat. “It’s not good because Lord Chancellor Haddington is insisting you dress for dinner tonight.”
“Tell him I am unwell, Sarah.”
“My Lady, begging your pardon, but he said to dress you for dinner anyway.” Sarah was wringing her hands in her apron and looking around, fearing Catherine’s reaction.
“You needn’t fear my temper, Sarah. If the Lord Chancellor wishes my presence at dinner, I will oblige him, of course.” Catherine threw the covers back and rose from the bed, crossing to her dressing area. Sarah was quick to help her into a dinner gown, and Catherine decided to prioritize comfort over style. She needn’t bother trying to impress him. She only had but a few months of working to save up to get out of there. She was given a weekly allowance from the Lord Chancellor that was agreed upon before her mother passed, and she knew he wouldn’t dishonor that. Combined with the wages she received from Madame Kingston, she could at least purchase passage and set herself up temporarily somewhere. She thought perhaps she might make a fine tutor or governess in France where the families were eager to teach their children English and explore cross-culturalism with England. Surely she could find a reputable family to board her and pay her for her efforts. She was a high born lady, after all.
Catherine walked down the stairs, loitering overlong over the artwork and the likeness of the politicians that replaced the family portraits. She was keeping him waiting intentionally to make a statement.
When she was well and properly late, she finally permitted herself to be announced in the dining room. She was prepared with a look of smug satisfaction when she walked in, until she saw none other than Thomas sitting next to her father. Her smugness was quickly marred by surprise, and then she collected herself to form a mask of passivity to them both. Questions whirled in her mind, and she had no idea which ones were appropriate to ask. Then she remembered not to care.
“Who are you?” she inquired, looking pointedly at Thomas.
“Lady Haddington!” her father hissed, but she ignored him. Custom dictated that he should be the one to make the introduction.
Thomas looked confused as he looked between Catherine and Lord Chancellor Haddington. He rose from his seat, giving her a slight bow. “Lady Haddington, I am Lord Thomas Desmond of Clearwater Manor. I am here at the behest of my father, the Baron Desmond of Clearwater Manor. I am pleased to make your acquaintance once again.” So he remembered her, but he was so formal. How was it possible that this was her childhood friend? Her Thomas would never be so ceremonious. Was this some nightmare she had yet to awaken from? Catherine nodded to him and continued to walk to her seat where Sarah waited to serve her libations.
“Please excuse the Lady Haddington, she’s not been well.” Lord Chancellor Haddington’s lips were pressed tightly with anger, but Catherine returned the look. What more could he spring on her? He just revealed she was to be the stepmother of her long lost childhood friend. How much worse could circumstances become?
Lady Catherine didn’t eat much as the two men conversed over dinner at the far end of the table. Verily, she didn’t understand why she needed to be summoned to dinner in the first place. She was exhausted. She either wanted to escape to her apartments and collapse into bed or demand answers from Thomas.
“Lady Haddington will be most pleased to visit Clearwater Manor for the Easter holidays, I am sure.” Catherine looked up when she heard Lord Chancellor speaking about her. “It will be the perfect opportunity to introduce her to your father,” he continued. “Then, when he is feeling well in the summer, they can be married. Of course.”
Catherine didn’t bother waiting for Lord Desmond’s response. She wasn’t interested. She had no intention of going to Clearwater Manor, so their conversation didn’t apply to her.
She picked at her food all through dinner and dessert. When the dishes were cleared, Lord Chancellor invited Lord Desmond to the study for a glass of port or brandy if they were so inclined. She felt the eyes of both men on her as she rose from her chair and allowed Sarah to escort her from the dining room. When Sarah paused by the two men to allow her to say goodnight, Catherine merely circumvented her and exited into the hallway. She could hear her father apologizing for her rudeness again, but that was no matter. She knew a fight was coming with the Lord Chancellor, but she did not intend to make it easy for him.
Catherine had Sarah draw her a bath. Her efforts from the day left her aching, and the company she kept that day made her skin itch. She knew she would have to grow accustomed to it, and at least Claire and Madame Kingston were relatively well kept. She’d not met any of the other women, but Cook was one of the things she considered scrubbing down tomorrow night. Catherine fell asleep in the tub, and Sarah gently shook her awake a while later. She dried off, dressed, and collapsed on her bed.
The next morning, Catherine awoke and found a tray of food sitting next to the bed. A note was on it, signed by her father. That surprised her. She cracked the wax seal and read quickly, growing more and more irate as she did. He was telling her she could take her meals in her room from now on if she was going to behave so childishly. Until she was ready to treat Lord Desmond with the utmost respect he deserved, she was not welcome at the table.
At first, Catherine was livid. He was dismissing her from the dining room table as he would a soiled linen. But the more she thought about it, the better it was for her. It meant she could make her escape to go to work much faster, with less chance of being inhibited by social niceties at dinner. Catherine didn’t bother to send a response, instead she ate breakfast and spent the rest of the day with her nose in the book she had liberated from the library to pass the time. Sarah came in a few times, took her breakfast tray away, and brought tea later in the afternoon, but she didn’t stay long. When she brought dinner, she paused as if waiting to say something.
“What is it, Sarah?” Catherine asked.
“Well...it’s just that...the Lord Chancellor didn’t say you were confined to your room all day, my Lady.”
“No, I suppose he didn’t. But to be fair, I’d rather not encounter him or Lord Desmond about the house anyway. It is just as well that I remain here.”
“I understand my Lady. Please excuse me for being so bold.”
“There is no need to apologize, Sarah. You were trying to extend me a kindness.”
Sarah curtseyed and left the room. Catherine hurried to finish her dinner. She rang for the tray to be taken away and made an excuse that she was going to turn in early. Sarah helped her from her day dress to her night shift.
“Are you feeling well?” Sarah asked. The concern on her face pulled at Catherine’s heart strings, but she couldn’t risk letting her in on the secret.
“Truthfully, no,” she admitted. “I don’t understand why the Lord Chancellor is treating me as expendable. I fear the hurt in my heart vexes me so. It’s easier to sleep it away.”
“My Lady, I don’t think the Lord Chancellor thinks of you as expendable.”
“Sarah, you’re so sweet, but naïve. If he wanted me around, he would allow me to remain here. But he’s passing me off to the most lecherous, cruel old man just to be rid of me. He can’t stand having me here. But that’s no matter, I’ll-” Catherine stopped herself before she said to much. Sarah looked like she was on the verge of tears. Catherine realized that once she was gone, Sarah would be left in this house with no one to aid except her cantankerous father. She reached over and squeezed Sarah’s hand. “It will be alright, Sarah. You’ll see.”
Sarah didn’t respond, but curtseyed and took the tray with
her when she went. Catherine waited for a few moments before she climbed out of bed and went to the dressing area where she changed to her simple dress and cloak. She was at the window and climbing out in no time. The bitter wind bit at her ankles as she climbed down the tree. She knew she would need to grow accustomed to it if she would make it to work every night. She couldn’t very well take the carriage out. As it was, she had no idea how she would explain away the fact that she was no longer going to be attending any social events. No balls, plays, social callings, or dinner parties. She supposed the Lord Chancellor would make excuses, telling the ton that she was preparing for her nuptials to the Baron Desmond. Either way, it did not matter much to her.
Catherine trudged through the snow and ice, making her way back to the White Chapel district as quickly as she could. The excitement she felt at the potential adventures she would face that night carried her through the cold. It felt like the whole world opened up to her now that she had found some independence. Catherine rounded the corner into the White Chapel district with a smile on her face, but when she stepped into the washroom at Madame Kingston’s, it was soon replaced by a look of absolute disgust.
Chapter 4
Within half an hour of work, Catherine’s back ached and her fingers felt raw. Her ears hurt from Cook standing over her hollering, for all the good it did either of them. She could not understand a word Cook said. She seemed to do less hollering the harder Catherine scrubbed, so Catherine put everything she could into cleaning the dishes. She just kept reminding herself that she would prefer Cook’s loud, obnoxious gibberish over her father’s cold disdain any day.
A small reprieve came when Cook had to finish cooking the evening meal for the rest of the house and the patrons who were staying overnight. The main room below stairs served as a tavern where drink and food were served, and the rooms above stairs were used for more elicit activities. No one bothered Catherine in the washroom, except Cook, but the patrons weren’t permitted back there. It was just as well, Catherine preferred to be in her own head but found her thoughts returning to Thomas. What had he been doing here? She felt as if she already knew the answer, but she couldn’t bring herself to consider which girl he had been with.
Catherine saw a few of them in passing when they came to the kitchen for something to eat in between patrons. Either that or their curiosity had gotten the best of them, because she could hear them talking with Cook and felt their eyes on her. She saw Claire that day as well, and wanted to say hello, but the young woman hurried in, whispered something to Cook, and then left. Catherine thought she saw Claire give her a little wave on her way out, but she went back to scrubbing when Cook gave her the evil eye.
Catherine caught up the dishes after a few hours and Cook immediately set her to scrubbing the floor and the washroom. She had a backache and her knuckles were cracked from being in the water all day. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was to start on the kitchen when she was done, so she took her time and enjoyed the privacy for a couple more hours. She felt as she had done a fair job of cleaning when she sat back, taking in her work. She had shuddered through the revelations of grime and vermin that were caked into the crevices of the room. A few mice gave her heart a shock when she moved some boxes to continue scrubbing, and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to return her breathing to normal. When she opened her eyes, Cook stood near the doorway and laughed. Her one yellow tooth shone under the wall sconce and Catherine sighed, making peace with the kitchen creatures.
She hadn’t seen Madame Kingston all evening. She figured it was because business was thriving. The one chance she got to peak out into the dining room, the place was crowded, nearly bursting out the door. Catherine made her way out back to the area where the girls reprieved themselves. When she returned, Madame Kingston was in the kitchen conversing with Cook.
“Cook tells me ye’ve been doin’ a fair job,” Madame Kingston said. “We weren’t sure about ye, what wi’ those delicate hands o’ yers.”
“Thank you, Madame. I fear it will take me a few nights to grow accustomed to it, but I’ll not shy away from hard work if you’ll have me.”
“Good to hear. When ye’re done wi’ the dinner dishes, ye can start on the linens. The tub and scouring board are in the back there. Claire will help ye, as we’ve only one change o’ the linens per room. She’ll go in when they are unoccupied, make the change, and bring ye the soiled ones. I suspect it will take ye the rest o’ the night and when ye’ve finished the breakfast dishes, then ye can be on yer way.”
“Yes, Madame. What time is breakfast served up here?” Catherine was concerned about returning to the townhouse before the household awoke for the day.
“We eat early so the girls can rest before the lunch hour. Before the dawn.”
She was sorely regretting her decision to take on the hard labor by the time she was done the breakfast dishes. She barely had time to talk to Claire before turning her attention to the piles of soiled linens. She was sweating, which was a relatively new experience, save the heat of the day in the summer.
Catherine staggered home that morning. When she climbed the tree, she wanted nothing more than to fall into bed, but she knew she had to change from the dress and cloak. She wasn’t sure what to do with them, so she spritzed them with rose water and hid them in the back corner under her bed before falling into a deep slumber. It wasn’t even a full hour later before Sarah brought breakfast in. Catherine sat up, bleary eyed and looked at the porridge and her heart sank. She had scrubbed enough of it off the kitchenware at Madame Kingston’s that she never wanted to see it again.
Sarah was likewise wrinkling her nose. “My Lady...what...what is that smell?”
Catherine sniffed, having grown accustomed to the stench of the kitchens the night before, but she wasn’t aware of how bad it must have been now that it was seeped into her skin and clothes.
“Oh, I was, I-”
“I’ll fetch a bath right away,” Sarah decided. “Lord Chancellor has requested that you join him and Lord Desmond for tea this afternoon. You can’t go smelling like that.”
Catherine was worried Sarah might press her further, but she was relieved when she left well enough alone. She brought the tub in and Catherine soaked, gratefully, for a while. When she began to doze off again, she shook herself awake. She rose from the tub, grabbing her soiled dress and making short work of scrubbing it, too. She squeezed it out and hid it under the bed, then laid it out in front of the fire once Sarah had come to fetch the bath water.
She finally collapsed into bed and slept so soundly that Sarah had to shake her awake. “My Lady, you’re late for tea.”
Catherine sat up, wondering what she was talking about, and it took her a moment to remember she was to have tea with the Lord Chancellor and Lord Desmond. She rose from bed, worried Sarah would ask why she had laid a dress out next to the fire, but she said nothing as she helped Catherine dress for tea in the parlor. When she was ready, Catherine made her way down to the parlor and waited as Sarah knocked on the door. She was so groggy still, she could have slept another couple of hours.
“Lord Chancellor Haddington, Lord Desmond, Lady Catherine Haddington has arrived to join you for tea,” Sarah announced.
Catherine entered the room and her father looked up briefly. He still looked irate with her, probably for being late to tea, but Lord Desmond looked pleasant enough. Both men rose, Catherine curtseyed briefly, and then made her way over to sit on the sofa opposite them.
“Lady Catherine, it is nice to make your acquaintance. The Lord Chancellor has just been telling me of some of your recent…antics.”
Catherine raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Her father’s face softened a little as he steered the subject to politics. Catherine couldn’t help it when she began dozing off on the sofa as she grew bored with the subject.
“Lady Catherine!” Someone was speaking to her and she blinked her eyes. Lord Chancellor looked annoyed, but Lord Desmond looked amused.
She wondered how long she was asleep. “Lady Catherine, I daresay you have been nothing short of rude to our guest the past two days.”
Catherine could feel the beratement coming on, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief when Sarah knocked on the door and carried a silver tray with a sealed missive on it.
“Lord Desmond, please excuse me. “Lady Catherine-” Her father looked at her and for the first time, she felt like she was looking into the face of a stranger. There was nothing short of an apology and the assurance she wouldn’t have to marry the Baron Desmond that would warm her heart to him. But she also knew he was too proud and would never admit that he had erred in his judgment, which left them reduced to this passing, barely civil relationship. Lord Chancellor Haddington didn’t finish what he was about to say but swept from the room to retire to his study, leaving Catherine sitting with Lord Desmond, alone.
Catherine reached forward and snagged a cookie from the tray that had been set out. Ginger cookies, her favorite. Lord Desmond’s lips trembled, and Catherine had to wonder which of them was going to break the silence first and ask the question lingering between them.
“You’ve made quite an impression of the Lord Chancellor the last couple of days,” Lord Desmond began. “I must say, every other word from his mouth is an apology for your behavior.”
“Truly? Well, there was a time I didn’t have to apologize for my behavior. If I remember it correctly, you were the one who excused my disposition as the fairer sex.”
Lord Desmond’s body shook with laughter. Suddenly, he was the same Thomas from her youth once again. His amber eyes sparkled in the light of the parlor. His youthful face was the same, but had hardened into the angles of a man. Catherine could sense the vitality she had known when they were both so young. It was harbored under the crafted disposition of a Lord, but it was there.
“You left.” She tried to keep the hurt from her own voice, but the words quavered a little.
A Rogue's Courtship: Clean Regency Romance Collection Page 3