Teaching the Earl (8 page)

The knock on the front door was a firm one. Elizabeth scampered to the hall and peered over the bannister. The knock came again, and she stared at the door. Where was Mrs Harrow? Or Mary? A countess could not open her own door.

The knock sounded again, and she imagined it was brisk with impatience. She paced slowly down to the ground level, then across the wide entryway and by the fourth time the knock sounded she had one hand on the door.

She swung it open to reveal a small woman, young - perhaps in her late twenties - with ample curves, warm hazel eyes and a hundred busy bobbing ringlets in a deep fringe around her lace bonnet. She absorbed the sight of Elizabeth in a single comprehensive glance, and burst out in a smile.

"Aren't you the prettiest thing?
And so fresh. Scarcely more than a babe, and yet you're our new countess. I've come to leave my card, though I shan't stand on ceremony and I hope you won't either."

Elizabeth took the card held out to her, delicately embossed with her guest's name.
Mrs Archibald Swinton of the Hensleigh Rectory. This, then, would be the wife of the local vicar.

"Perhaps your husband would like to present himself to Lord
Carhampton," she said carefully, not sure if she should maintain formality in the face of this friendly assault.

"He shall. In fact he is probably doing so even as we speak, for our man said Lord
Carhampton is overseeing some work by the west end cottages. Only I am hardly the patient sort. For 'I am not afraid of Lady Carhampton' I told my Archie, 'though she be ever so formal and stiff. I'm sure we'll become great friends.' And now I've met you I'm even more sure of it."

"I see." Elizabeth felt desperate. Should she be equally friendly, or should she try to be the dignified countess and freeze the woman out for her presumption? After a moment she gave way, and put a cautiously small smile on her face, hoping this was not a misstep with this first meeting with a member of the local gentry. "Won't you come in? I beg your pardon for answering the door myself, but we're still frightfully short-staffed."

"Thank you. Yes. I imagine you are, though I can direct you to several very good girls who would do a fine job for you here. You must be careful not to get anyone lazy. This is such a large house it will be difficult to supervise them all closely as they learn how to go on. I swear it was the hardest part of learning to be a new wife: managing my own servants. There is a very good book I can lend you that will teach you all you need to know-"

"You are too kind," said Elizabeth coolly.

"Ah, but perhaps you already know all this. It is only I remember how afraid I was, and there's such a lot to learn, and a new set of neighbors and everything was strange to me. I don't mean to imply you are as ignorant as I was. I imagine I was younger even than you. Such a little mouse. You have no idea."

It was nearly impossible to imagine Mrs Swinton might once have been a mouse. Now she was a cheerful, charging small bull, inexorable and smiling. Another time such intensity might be too much in a new acquaintance, but Elizabeth wanted to like her, and be liked by her, this first-met
neighbor.

"Why, isn't
this a pretty room? Or at least I dare say it will be once these drapes are changed. It always amazes me how dull drapes can drag down the whole tone of a place. Though look: the fabric is still sound." Mrs Swinton took hold of the stiff brocade of the curtains in the withdrawing room, and a cascade of dust fell from the material to engulf her bonnet. The woman sneezed. "Dear me. So distressing for you to find the place in such a state. I imagine how keenly you must feel it."

She turned a sympathetic gaze on Elizabeth, the plume of her bonnet woebegone under its new load of
gray fur, and Elizabeth's heart warmed to her. She set aside the dignity that fit her so uncomfortably. "Yes. It is shocking. I was never so appalled. And I can't even offer you tea and biscuits for I've not the least idea where the housekeeper is, or my one maid. However I can ring and we'll wait and see if someone comes to discover what we want."

Mrs Swinton giggled, sneezed again, and blinked blearily at Elizabeth.
"A splendid idea." She swished across the bare floorboards with a swift step, and paused expectantly by the chaise longue. Elizabeth rang the bell by the doorway then came to the Queen Anne settee that faced the longue. They both sat, and gazed at each other with tentative pleasure.

"Did you have an easy journey from London?"

"The roads were very muddy, which slowed us a great deal."

"They always are this time of year." Mrs Swinton smoothed the muslin over her knees with an absent stroke, calling attention to it. She was well dressed, if not particularly richly, and although there was no town polish about her, still she was carefully turned out. "It's all the rain, of course. Though personally I do like the season despite it, for the very first shoots are coming up. After winter there is such promise in every bud. I look for blossoms on the trees any day now."

"That will be delightful here, I imagine. Are you a keen gardener?"

So they talked about Mrs Swinton's garden and what could be expected of the grounds around
Henleigh Park, of the local parish and the Reverend Swinton's sermons, of which colors would best suit the room in which they sat and how sad it was to see an estate so run down. Although the state of Hensleigh Park was so appallingly mismanaged no person could be proud to confess ownership, Elizabeth still found it thrilling to talk over the running of the house. It was admission into an adult world, acknowledgment of her place in it, her right to make decisions as she had seen Mama do countless times. Here sat a woman of the local gentry, ready to welcome her to this society, and while Elizabeth's morning gown might be made of finer stuff, cut fashionably by an expensive town
modiste
, Mrs Swinton was old money, old landed gentry. Just as Papa had said: here was the society to which he aspired.

"Of course there is such potential here," said Mrs Swinton. "There is no need to be discouraged."

"Not discouraged, precisely. It is only that Lord Carhampton has recommended I don't involve myself, as I have so little experience."

"Oh. Well perhaps he has not seen you in action, yet. New husbands can be the most besotted, overprotective creatures. They think we are made of spun glass. No doubt he wants to spare you. But it is much more tiresome to be idle, I think."

"I think so too!"

"Then it is only a matter of proving your competence to him, in small ways, until he sees how
capable you are."

Elizabeth studied the backs of her folded hands. "Only I fear he is right, for I have learned how to manage a staff, only there is none here yet, and I have no domestic skills of my own."

"Well as to that I'm sure you shall soon hire people, but it stands a mistress in good stead to understand the details of how things are done so she can judge if they are done well, and can identify faults." Mrs Swinton hesitated, and there was a short silence, of one woman wishing not to offend another. "Perhaps you would like a little guidance?"

Elizabeth looked up and met a hopeful expression, and though she searched Mrs Swinton's face there was no contempt there, nothing patronizing about the offer.

"You are very kind. I don't wish to take you away from your own duties-"

"I should enjoy it v
ery much, I think. I confess I’m weary of needlecraft. I have embroidered everything within reach at the vicarage. Assisting a new neighbor seems a much more rewarding prospect."

Elizabeth weighed pride against the pleasure of company, noble indolence against useful business. She was certain which a countess should prefer, but for her own part-

"That sounds delightful. Perhaps you'd like a tour of the house? It's so large I don't know where to start with improving it." She would not tell Mrs Swinton about her very limited budget.

When she had presented herself to Lord
Carhampton - Chris - in his study, he gave her a small purse of guineas, met her eyes with only a flicker of a glance, then said, "You may expect the same again every month." The paltry sum had astonished her. It was little more than the cost of one of her dresses. She had no idea how to turn it into something useful. What had happened to the great wealth of her dowry? But she did not question him, only slipped out silently with the little purse and put it in the top drawer of her bureau.

She and Mrs Swinton
trudged all over the house, talking the entire way, and Mrs Swinton exclaimed at the grand dimensions and eyed the filth but stayed tactfully silent on that subject. By the time they were done - leaving a trail of footprints in the dust to match those left by Mrs Harrow and Elizabeth on her previous tour - the hems of their skirts were gray. They had found Mary too, in Elizabeth's bedroom, scrubbing at the floorboards she had revealed by removing the carpet and pushing all the furniture to the wall.

"Goodness, Mary." Elizabeth stopped on the threshold and peered in. She had asked the girl to tidy her room, but such profound
vigor was impressive. "How did you get the carpet out?"

"I asked the
groundsman to lift it down for me. He growled but I told him it was your orders, begging your pardon, milady, and he did it. I'll give it a good beating before I bring it in again, it's that filthy."

"Excellent work.
You've taken down the curtains, too."

"Yes. Well." The girl looked suddenly guilty. "I was a-shaking at them to get out the muck but they fell apart in my hands. I'll look about the house to find a good set, clean them up and bring them in."

Elizabeth sighed, but all she said was a quiet, "The material was rotted. It's not your fault. Remember to be as gentle with these old fabrics as you can manage."

"Yes, milady."

"Unfortunate," said Mrs Swinton as they walked away.

"The
colors of the replacements will not match, even if the length is right. Still, I suppose it hardly matters."

"I think you must start with a list of the rooms you would most like to use every day, have your Mary clean those first, and scavenge . . .
er, collect furniture from about the house to set them up as you like."

"Yes. I think the best pieces were probably taken to the London house, but there should be more than enough remaining to be very comfortable."

She took Mrs Swinton into Lord Carhampton's study, empty now, sat at his desk and stole paper and pen to make a list. The two of them bent their heads over the task and soon the single sheet was filled with notes, and Elizabeth took another. They filled that too, and by the time it occurred to her she was hungry, they were well on their way to friendship.

Rather than call for a servant they went and raided the kitchen and sat at the table there. Elizabeth surrendered the last of her pretension, and laid out the leftover roast beef, a loaf of bread, cheese, butter, pickles and two mugs of small beer on the table.

"I shan't stand on ceremony," she said.

Mrs Swinton did not seem surprised. "I haven't seen your housekeeper anywhere."

"No. Though perhaps she has gone to the village to buy food."

"That's possible. She keeps the kitchen very well." The vast, stone-flagged space was clean and bright, the table scrubbed pale with lye. The room smelled of vinegar and yeast. Whitewashed archways led to the larder, the pantry and the buttery. It was a space that should be the hub of activity, full of people coming and going on the business of the manor, yet it was empty except for them, silent and still.

"Yes," said Elizabeth. "It might be the most pleasant room in the house."

"No doubt the effect will spread, now you are here to supervise the
labor."

"I hope so."

"If I lived here I'd take one of the little rooms for a stillroom, and concoct my herbal remedies there."

"That is very apt for the lady of the manor, isn't it? It's a pity I don't brew anything."

"I could teach you, if you like. One of my duties is to visit the sick and poor of the parish."

"We shall minister to our people?" Elizabeth raised a brow, feeling pretentious to talk of taking on that role, as if she was a mature woman of authority. Still, it would be good to help others, if she could.

"Absolutely." Mrs Swinton's glance held girlish mischief, and it struck Elizabeth that for all the other woman's extra decade, she still seemed young. She had said nothing about children, so perhaps she had not yet moved into that world of mothering and left girlhood behind.

Once she had finished her meal, Mrs Swinton said, "It's been so delightful to meet you, I've imposed far too long."

"No, not at all. I've enjoyed your visit so much."

"Nonetheless I'll leave you to your peace. I've a mind to walk down to the west end cottages and see how the work progresses there. I know many of the crofters, and I'm certain it will mean a great deal to them that the new Lord
Carhampton is to improve their living conditions. They are in such an appalling state."

"Are they? I hate to think of it. Really I know nothing of the place."

"Come with me if you like. It's quite a walk for city-bred legs, perhaps, but I imagine you will want to know your land better."