A Return of Devotion

by Kristi Ann Hunter

  Unfortunately, she could think of nothing they could have done that would have let her know the house’s resident had returned. It wasn’t as if the man was going to leave his greatcoat in a pile on the floor of the front hall. Mr. Morris would never allow the garment to be treated in such a way.

  “Er . . .”

  “Daphne,” Jess said warningly. “What happened?”

  “Horses!” Daphne cried in triumph, spinning around to face Jess with a smile on her face. “The horses are back in the barn.”

  “I see.” Jess smoothed a loose hair back into her blond knot. “’Tis a good thing you heard the horses before you reached the house. It would have been difficult to explain your presence had he seen you up there.”

  “Er . . . yes. It definitely would have been,” Daphne mumbled.

  Jess sighed. “I know how long you were gone, Daphne, and it wasn’t a quick jaunt up to the stable to notice it was inhabited again.”

  It would be nice if her bad decisions would stop having consequences. Daphne sighed. “I played the piano.”

  Silence filled the room once more as Jess stared at Daphne, eyes a bit clouded but still direct. Obviously she was doing the thinking Daphne never remembered to do before she spoke.

  Jess sat and finished hooking her boots. “I’d best get cooking, then. If you could collect the eggs for me, that would expedite breakfast a bit.”

  Daphne swallowed and nodded, trying to wait until Jess departed to collapse against the wall in relief. Avoiding a chastisement from Jess was certainly worth sending up a prayer of praise. Having Jess so obviously agree that it was best to pretend nothing had happened made Daphne feel a bit better about her plan this morning.

  Jess knocked on the door across the passage, letting Sarah and Eugenia know it was time to start the day. Once her footsteps faded down the stairs, Daphne took the first full breath she’d taken since getting up that morning.

  She pulled her hair back into a tight knot and selected her plainest dress. It was a solid brown that had faded into a greyish color over the years. Not that any of her gowns were particularly eye-catching or even fashionable, but the bland dress lacking any sort of print made her less noticeable than the woodwork.

  It was the perfect wardrobe choice. Today, the last thing she needed was to draw anyone’s attention.

  Particularly not Lord Chemsford’s.

  He’d never been more aware of anyone in his life.

  Of course he’d known he would see her when she brought breakfast to the small dining room, but after that he shouldn’t have known where she was at all.

  Before his trip to Birmingham he’d sometimes had difficulty finding her when he’d needed something. But now he kept track of every noise that echoed through the nearly empty house, knowing that there was a very good chance it was her.

  After breakfast she’d cleaned upstairs with Sarah. Their quiet discussion and laughter were amplified by the angles of the two-story central hall, the same way the music had been last night.

  Then Sarah had gone to help Eugenia in the washroom while Daphne cleaned the ground floor.

  He could sit in the drawing room and know everywhere she went, humming gently, likely without realizing it.

  William closed himself in the library to look over the estate books he’d brought back with him from Dawnview Hall, but somehow he still heard her moving about.

  Or thought he heard her moving about.

  What if he were starting to imagine her, too?

  William rubbed his hand over his face and pushed away from the desk to walk over to the double doors. It was as far as he could get from her and still remain in the house.

  Was she imagining him now? He couldn’t seem to move past that realization that she’d imagined he was there before she’d ever seen him.

  And it hadn’t been the first time she’d done so.

  Everything else could have been blamed on the moment—the secrecy of night, the complexity of their situation, and the emotions pulled from the music she was playing.

  Music she had played for an imaginary version of William.

  That was difficult to ignore, if not impossible.

  They’d nearly kissed by the piano. Had she imagined him doing that before? Was she considering it now? Because he certainly couldn’t keep from thinking about what would have happened if she’d come to her senses just a few moments later than she had.

  The soft hum he’d heard throughout the house drifted into the drawing room beyond the library corridor.

  He recognized the tune as one she’d played the night before. The one that had seemed so full of hope.

  Before he could stop them, his feet took two large steps toward the door so he could hear the song better. He pulled himself up short and braced his arm against a bookshelf to keep from going anywhere else.

  This was madness.

  People. He needed more people in this house. More noises. That would provide the controls Ramsbury had mentioned. Whether Daphne was the variable or his emotions were didn’t matter. Both needed to be properly contained.

  He needed enough servants that he couldn’t distinguish who was doing what. So many servants that she would have no need to do any of the actual cleaning herself. She could stay in the housekeeper’s office belowstairs and tell everyone else what to do.

  She could even continue living in the cottage. That would add a level of propriety to the situation, should anyone discover it. Not a great deal, but perhaps enough to keep from ruining her further than she already was.

  Construction made noise as well. He could hire additional workers.

  Noise was what he needed. Maybe the isolation and quiet were getting to him. The sooner the construction was done, the sooner he could bring some of his friends for a visit. They might think it odd when his monthly correspondence included an invitation to visit, but these were desperate times.

  He needed people.

  The sooner the better.

  He pushed open the library double doors with a shove and stepped out into the sunshine to take the most direct path to the stable. With a little bit of luck and some help from Mr. Banfield, he could have the place brimming with people by sundown.

  A carving of a goat on a beam over the entrance of the barn caught his eye. He’d missed it the last time he’d come to the stable since the chicken coop had stolen all of his notice.

  With one finger, he traced a line over the lifelike carving. He’d never been one to believe that places were haunted by anything other than a person’s own memories, but he couldn’t help feeling that there was life in this place, life he wouldn’t have anticipated given the fact that it had sat empty all those years.

  Little things like this goat carving were such a stark contrast to the glorious art inside, but they were just as special and beautiful. When William eventually had this stable torn down in order to have a larger one built, this beam would remain part of the house’s collection.

  “Would you like your horse saddled, my lord?”

  William looked down to find Reuben looking up at him through his round spectacles. The trousers were a bit dirty and the boy was wiping his hands on a rag, but his posture was straight and he was looking William in the eye.

  Quite a bit of progress for a lad in only a few short weeks.

  William cleared his throat. “Yes. My horse. I’m going to town.”

  Light-colored eyes glanced down and then back up again. Reuben cleared his throat and shifted his feet. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but are you not going to change first?”

  William glanced down and nearly groaned. His head was so muddled that he’d strolled out to the barn in his trousers and slippers. “Of course. Have my horse ready when I return.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Red curly hair bobbed as the boy gave a nodding bow and then turned to walk into the stable.

  William trudged up to the house to change, considering once more the contrast between the goat carved into the stable’s crossbeam and the colle
ction at the house.

  It was a rather vast collection and probably some of it was valuable.

  He just hadn’t any idea as to what.

  An expert would know, though. At the very least, an expert would help William know what he had. A collection this large should be catalogued somehow, and if one already existed, William had yet to find it.

  He knew just the man to do it. He’d first met Derek Thornbury when a friend had brought him in to assess a collection he’d just inherited. William had gotten along splendidly with the art-and-antiquities expert. Since then he’d run into Derek on several occasions. Last he heard, the man’s work had taken him to Oxford, a mere forty miles away.

  Derek was personable and brilliant and more than a little unobservant when it came to anything other than art. He’d be somewhere between a guest and an employee, with a dash of chaperon thrown in for good measure.

  He was the perfect person to bring to the house.

  While he dressed to ride into town, William told himself this was a smart decision, not a desperate one. He needed time and distraction so that he could somehow wrap his mind around the complexity that was Daphne.

  Once she wasn’t such a mystery he’d stop thinking about her all the time and she’d go back to simply being a woman he employed.

  Yes, he was being smart, he reminded himself once again as he walked back down to the stable. He was not being a coward.

  As soon as his hands stopped shaking, he might even believe that.

  Chapter twenty-six

  The fire in the kitchen hearth warmed Daphne’s toes as it heated the soup in the pot anchored over the flame. Bubbles formed across the surface of the soup, swelling slowly until they popped in a small splash before forming again.

  Jess walked up to Daphne and stood shoulder to shoulder with her, staring down into the pot. “Did you lose something in there?”

  “I don’t have anything to do,” Daphne mumbled.

  Jess barked a short laugh. “So you decided to stare at a boiling pot? For pity’s sake, let me get you a book.”

  “A book?” Daphne asked.

  “Yes, a book. Leather, wood, pages with black ink on them. Similar to piano music but with words.” Jess folded her hands in front of her like a book and pretended to read.

  “I know what a book is,” Daphne sighed. “I just haven’t read one in a long time. There’s never time to read.”

  “Apparently there’s time to stare at soup. Does reading really take that much longer?”

  “I should be busy. I’m always busy.” She was. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something for herself and by herself. There had been plenty of fun to be had in activities she’d shared with the children: going on picnics, reading books aloud, singing songs.

  Even Daphne’s daily Bible reading habit had been mostly for the children, so she could tell them the stories and share scripture with them when they couldn’t risk taking the whole troop into town for church.

  “As you wish,” Jess said with a sigh as she leaned against the worktable. “I’ll play this game.”

  Daphne pulled her gaze from the soup and looked at her friend.

  The blond woman lifted her hand, one finger extended. “Are the linens fresh?”

  “Yes,” Daphne said slowly. “Horatia Mason, one of the new maids, took care of that this morning.”

  “Furniture dusted? Floors swept? Carpets beat?”

  Daphne nodded as Jess ticked off task after task. “Sarah and Rachel, Horatia’s sister, have the last carpet outside right now. Mary, who got sent over by Nash this morning, is finishing polishing the stair banisters.”

  “And the downstairs servants’ chambers?”

  “The new footmen, Cyril and James, finished moving the furniture around an hour ago. It’s a bit tight, and at least one of the footmen is going to have to sleep in the stable for a while, but everyone is situated.”

  “And we both know that if you start trying to manage the kitchen or meals I’m likely to throw something at you,” Jess said. “So I suppose you’re right. You have nothing to do.”

  She leaned in and glared at Daphne. “Go read a book. Take a walk. Take a nap, for goodness’ sake. Anything, really, besides stare into a pot of boiling soup as if you’re contemplating dunking your head in it.”

  Daphne crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t begrudge Lord Chemsford hiring the maids, or the footmen, or the abundance of groundskeepers, of whom there were now three. She was, however, very unnerved by this feeling of . . . of . . . Well, she wasn’t even sure what she felt and she didn’t like that. Being in tune with her emotions was what she had done her entire life. To not know herself was as awful as not knowing what to do with herself.

  “I don’t have a book.” Her voice was that of a petulant child, but Daphne couldn’t bring herself to care.

  Jess walked over to the table in the corner and reached behind two loaves of bread wrapped in linen to pull out a thick brown book. She shoved the tome into Daphne’s arms. “Here.”

  “What is it?” Daphne asked as she turned the book over to look at the cover.

  Jess shrugged and started picking through the vegetable bin. “I’ve no idea. Kit left it in a basket. I haven’t had a chance to take it up to the library yet.”

  Daphne turned the book over and read the title with growing despair before dropping onto a stool at the worktable, banging the book on the table, and letting her head fall on top of it with a loud groan.

  Jess cleared her throat. “Obviously not that book, then. There’s plenty more in the library upstairs.”

  “This is The Elements of Universal Mathematics, or Algebra.” Daphne propped the book up on its end so Jess could see the spine. “This is horrible.”

  “Not really,” Jess said. “We already knew that Kit would read anything and everything she could get her hands on. But at least you’ve abandoned the soup.” She gave a little shudder. “Although burying your head in algebra instead isn’t much better.”

  “There hasn’t been a single lesson since Kit left.” Daphne flipped the book open. They’d promised themselves that none of the children would lack for education, that ignorance wouldn’t limit their future possibilities. And now that was exactly what was in danger of happening to the few who remained.

  Algebra couldn’t be that difficult to learn, could it? While she’d never been part of the academic lessons Kit gave, she hadn’t been terrible at maths growing up.

  “Lessons such as those are usually the first to go when you’re having to relearn how to survive,” Jess said softly. “But if you have time to stare at soup, you have time to prepare lessons. You can teach the children in the evenings.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need help in the kitchen?” Daphne asked, watching as Jess bustled about, preparing even more food for all the additional mouths now in the house. Jess had already refused to allow Daphne to suggest that Lord Chemsford hire an additional kitchen maid. Truthfully, Daphne had been relieved not to have to speak to Lord Chemsford. Hiring a new maid would require seeking him out, and it was obvious he wanted her far, far away from him.

  “No,” Jess said. “Eugenia and I are functioning well enough. Who knows how much Eugenia would talk if someone was actually answering her?”

  The scullery was possibly the worst place for people-loving Eugenia, but Daphne didn’t have the faintest idea how to correct that. She could, however, address the issue of the children’s education. Besides, algebra had to be less complicated than her life right now.

  She dropped her eyes to the book.

  “Let the numbers sought be x, y, and z and the Squares mentioned in the Problem rr, ss, tt, vv.” Daphne blinked. This was well beyond the math she’d learned as a girl. Where were the numbers?

  Jess snorted and slid a knife from the block. “Better you than me.”

  Daphne frowned and slammed the book closed, but she didn’t stash it away. She would start at the beginning and figure this out. She wo
uld slip more books out of the library, too. Lessons might be different without Kit, but Daphne could manage. “Where are the baskets?”

  Jess pointed toward a corner with her knife. “Over there. Why?”

  “I’m going to load one up with more books.”

  “Maths books with numbers, I hope.”

  Daphne waved the book at Jess. “I’m going to figure this out. And then I’ll teach it to Sarah, Eugenia, and Reuben. They may be destined to a life of service, but they will not be doomed to a life of ignorance.” Daphne dropped the book in a basket and started to stomp off, but then stopped at the kitchen door, turned back to Jess, and pointed a finger at her. “And I’m going to teach you, too. We’ll all be better for it.”

  Jess’s mouth dropped open just a bit, eyes wide as she looked in Daphne’s direction.

  As much as Daphne would have enjoyed basking in a moment when she’d actually managed to surprise Jess, she needed to take advantage of her current motivation to actually go into Lord Chemsford’s area of the house. She could go to the library, load up the basket, and then leave it by the door to pick up when she went to the cottage later that night.

  A soft hum vibrated through Daphne as she felt a lightness that she’d lately only been able to find when she closed her eyes and dreamed. A sense of purpose was a beautiful thing.

  The number of servants in the house had more than doubled and none of them were doing their job.

  Well, he supposed they were doing their job. He’d seen them out of the corner of his eye a time or two, discreetly moving about and taking care of the tasks they’d been assigned. Frankly, he’d expected that to look a bit more helter-skelter given that Daphne had been doing almost all of the work herself, but she seemed to have delegated assignments with exceptional efficiency.

  In fact, he hadn’t seen Daphne since the new maids and footmen arrived.

  So why was she constantly creeping into his thoughts? Wasn’t he supposed to forget about her if he couldn’t see her?

  He pushed aside the correspondence he’d been attempting to sort through. It included another letter from Maxwell asking to utilize one of the marquisette estates for an off-season country gathering. William shuffled the letter back to the bottom of the pile. Until he could think clearly about Maxwell’s requests and not simply snatch everything possible away from him in retaliation for his past actions, it was probably best that he ignore his cousin’s letters entirely.