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Authors: Heather Hiestand

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BOOK: The Marquess of Cake
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“Miss!” Pounds said, alarm in his voice when he regarded her.

“You’ll catch your death.”

“On the contrary, I’ve never felt more alive,” she said, still a bit out of breath. “But I must get out of these wet things.”

“Your father has come home and needs to see you in the study.”

“Oh, miss!” Lucy said, walking across the hall. “I’ll have a bath sent for immediately.”

Lucy helped her off with her outer layer, then Alys tucked her hair behind her ears and squelched to her father’s study. He could find no fault with her now. She had a marquess to call on her.

Feeling lighter than air, she drifted into a chair in front of his desk. “You wanted me, Father?”

She glanced at what he was studying and noted it was a railway timetable. “Do you have to visit the mills?”

“Not just now. Alys, have you any thoughts about your sister’s condition?”

“About Rose?”

“Yes.” He set down his magnifying glass. He refused to wear pince-nez, though he needed them.

Alys considered. “She’s worse in the winter.”

“Do you think she’s been more ill since we came to London?”

“I believe so, though I cannot say why. There might be any number of factors.”

“You would agree though, that it would be best for her to visit some other clime to ascertain if it would help.”

“If a doctor gave that opinion.”

“Rose suffered an acute attack while chaperoning Matilda and Mr. Bliven this afternoon.”

“Oh dear. Has the doctor been sent for? Has she recovered?”

“Your mother feels her remedies have been more successful than those of any doctor we have tried, and she is feeling better, but I wish for her to go to the new house tomorrow. Even as we speak, your maid is packing.”

“I see.” All of Alys’s lightness left her and she felt anchored to the chair by her wet skirts.

“Matilda cannot leave, with Mr. Bliven on the leash.”

She wondered if she should tell her father about Hatbrook, but Rose needed a sensible travelling companion. For once though, she wished she could be selfish. She wanted another kiss. “Is Mother going to Sussex?”

“No, she’ll be needed to chaperone. If Rose continues to be ill, we’ll have to have Grandmother Noble stay here and send your mother south, but I’d rather not go to that extreme.”

Of course not. Her father did not get along with her.

“Your mother has stated that you are competent to give Rose her remedies. Lucy knows what to do and your mother will speak to both of you this evening. Gawain will take the three of you to Victoria Station tomorrow morning.”

She bowed her head. She’d leave a note for Hatbrook with Pounds. He would understand. After all, she didn’t plan to marry him or anyone else, she merely wanted the status his visit might bring.

She ignored the tight sensation in her chest. That was not a reason to discomfort an ill sister. “Very well, I shall be prepared.”

He nodded. “You are a good sister. I’m sure she will be better with a little sun and country air.”

“Yes, Father.”

“You’ll have her in tiptop shape by April and can both come back for the Season.”

Was he trying to comfort her? What interest had she in the Season? Although, she had to admit to having a good time at Hatbrook’s ball. Maybe there was something to parties after all.

“Does it seem that Mr. Bliven will propose?”

“I know he is looking for a girl with money,” he said bluntly. “His father told me as much. And while of good family, he may never see a title. His cousin has just become engaged despite being over fortyfive and if he has an heir, well, Mr. Bliven’s prospects are dashed.”

“I see.” So the Redcake girls were not suited to men likely to receive titles, much less those who held them.

 Her father rubbed his chin. “He wasn’t very nice to you. Do you object to him?”

“He may object to me,” she said. “But I think he meant to be droll.”

“Better to have you out of the house at any rate,” her father said.

“Matilda will shine best on her own, without your tongue to amuse or Rose’s beauty to distract. We shall resolve the situation. You may go.”

Alys pushed herself out of the chair, leaving a dark line of wet on the rug as she left the study. Her father treated Mr. Bliven like any other business problem. An interesting approach to matrimony. She was very glad to see the tin tub being filled when she entered her dressing room.

Her privacy was protected by a screen as she warmed herself in front of the fire but she could hear Lucy rushing around behind it, and even Edith once or twice. She fell into a daze in the tub, reliving both kisses with Michael over and over again. If there had been more privacy, she’d have touched her lips like he had, her neck, but when she heard her mother, she knew she needed to rouse herself.

She found a towel, then her wrapper, and sat next to the fire to unpin her hair. The train ride would make her so filthy there wasn’t any point to washing it now.

“Warmer now?” her mother asked, peering around the screen.

“This room is freezing.”

“Sorry, we can move the screen. How is Rose?”

“She is sleeping, but I’m afraid her attack upset Mr. Bliven. Poor Matilda was torn between caring for her sister and making it clear she doesn’t share the affliction.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” She helped her mother fold the screen and drag it to the corner.

Lucy had dresses spread across the chaise longue and stared at them with her hands akimbo, clucking her tongue.

“No darling, you weren’t asked to be. I know it’s a blow that he called for Matilda and not you.”

Alys picked up her brush, wondering what had given her mother that idea. “Not at all. He makes me uncomfortable.”

“Too uncomfortable to become your brother someday?”

“No, that sort of teasing relationship seems perfect in a brother.”

“You must miss that camaraderie with Gawain.”

“And with Lewis.”

“Things have changed a great deal recently, have they not?”

Lucy brought Alys her corset and petticoats. “I think they have been changing for more than a year and it was only now that I’ve noticed. Gawain came home, Father bought Redcake Manor and started making decisions he didn’t announce for a time. Rose turned eighteen in the late summer.”

“That is true. I have no more in the schoolroom.”

She wrapped her arms around her mother. “Has it been hard for you?”

“All change is hard, but these are mostly good changes. I wish Gawain hadn’t been hurt, but at least he’s home with us.”

“I have your dinner dress, miss,” Lucy said.

“I’ll have a tray up here instead,” Alys told her. “So I can help you and keep an eye on Rose. Mother, you go down.”

Her mother hesitated.

“A number of small repairs need to be made to the gowns,” Lucy said. “More than I can do myself.”

“Alys doesn’t like to sew.”

“I need the practice, Mother,” Alys said. “After all, you aren’t coming with us to Sussex.”

“Very well, but I’ll be back after dinner to speak to you about Rose’s medicine.”

Alys nodded, glad to lose herself in menial tasks. They gave her time to daydream.

They first took the train to Eastbourne, then transferred north to travel the few miles to Polegate.

“This is larger than I expected,” Rose said, noting the three platforms.

“It’s quite the historic area,” Alys observed. “We are near Hastings, after all.”

Rose coughed, bending forward to catch herself. As soon as she was under control, Alys guided her inside to find the driver who was supposed to be awaiting them. Lucy brought up the rear. A porter directed them to the man and they were soon ensconced in a rented carriage, their boxes tied on top.

“Where is Redcake Manor?” Alys asked.

“Bit south of here, maybe two miles,” the driver said, climbing into the box. “Get inside now, miss.”

Alys kept her eyes on Rose during the drive. Though her lips weren’t blue, she had a pale cast to her face and often applied smelling salts to her nose, which seemed to help her breathing.

When the carriage stopped and the driver opened the door, Alys was shocked to find herself in the courtyard of a dilapidated Elizabethan manor of stone, built in the H-plan.

He spoke. “An abbey was here first, and there’s a ruined Norman shell keep on a mound a few acres away. A nice walk, but watch out for falling stones. And for the ghosts of Roman soldiers, who are said to walk the mound in twilight.”

Rose giggled as the driver helped her down, then coughed. “No lady ghosts?”

“I’m sure it’s possible, miss. This house was built in fifteenseventy-seven, after all. My grandfather is by way of being the local historian. He loves to tell stories.”

“We’ll have to pay a visit to him,” Alys said.

“Oh, he’d like that, miss.”

“Did my father hire any staff for the house?”

Lucy looked alarmed at the idea of their being alone here.

“I know Bertha and George Pelham are still here. She’s the housekeeper and he keeps an eye on the gardens. I’d imagine she’s brought on a few of the local girls.”

The front doors opened and a woman dressed in black stepped out.

“Oh, and I forgot, miss. The Pelhams had a daughter. They are in mourning. Poor girl was sixteen when she died last spring.”

“In the house?” Lucy asked faintly.

“Yes, in the servants’ quarters.”

Rose tittered, a nervous sound.

The woman walked down the front stairs and Alys greeted her.

“Thank you for welcoming us, Mrs. Pelham.”

“I’m happy you’ve arrived in one piece. We only just had the letter to announce you were coming.”

“We’ll need a lovely warm room for my sister. She’s been ill.”

“I doubt there’s an inch of the old place that isn’t drafty,” said the thin, middle-aged woman. “But we’ll do our best for you.”

A man walked around the side of the house. “Here, Robbie. I’ll help you with the trunks.”

The driver touched his cap and the sisters and Lucy followed the housekeeper into the house. The first thing Alys noticed in the great hall were cobwebs, high in every corner and window. She had no idea how one cleaned such spaces, but they desperately needed an application of vinegar and water. Interspersed were crumbling tapestries and ancient weapons, rusty and disused.

“Well, I never,” Lucy said under her breath.

“We’ll be hiring footmen,” Mrs. Pelham said. “I understand your butler will eventually come down from London.”

“Yes, Pounds is his name.”

“Very good. Perhaps you would like to interview the final candidates, Miss Redcake? I have initial interviews tomorrow with five young men.”

“How many are you hiring? Two?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Yes, I’d like to meet the final three,” Alys said. “And housemaids?”

“We’ve just brought on a tweenie to light the fires and help me in the kitchen.”

“A cook?” Rose asked. “I require a great deal of hot broth throughout the day to help my lungs. And pots of coffee.”

“I’ll send Mr. Pelham for supplies. We weren’t told to hire a cook.

Besides we only have the original kitchen to work with, nothing modern.”

“I’ll write Mother immediately,” Alys promised. “But for now, I’d like to have my sister settled in a very clean room.”

“We’ve been trying to clear out the East Wing, that’s in the best repair.”

“Are the staircases safe?”

Mrs. Pelham shrugged. “Never been any accidents.”

“Very well.” What mischief had their father wrought now?

Alys took Rose’s arm, in case she needed help on the staircase.

Thankfully, the first room available was close to the staircase, which seemed secure enough.

“The long gallery is just through that door there. If you like paintings of dead people it’s quite a treat.”

“Lovely,” Alys said.

“I like to paint watercolors,” Rose said.

“You’ll find the light is good. The solar is at the end of the hall, you’ll probably want to set up there.” She opened the door.

 “Does the fireplace draw properly?” Alys asked as they entered the cavernous space. The wood floor was spotless and the bed hangings looked clean enough, though they were of tattered orange velvet.

“Yes, it’s been cleaned and the mattress is new. All the linens are clean and the clothing press is empty.”

“No mouse droppings?”

“No, miss, we found only spiderwebs and dust.”

“Chilly,” Rose commented.

“It is January, miss. I expect it is cold everywhere.” Mrs. Pelham drew back the curtains, exposing a thin white light.

Alys was satisfied that the windows faced south, which would keep the room bright and as warm as possible during the day. She was torn between wanting to keep an eye on her sister and checking the kitchens, but when her sister requested coffee and broth she decided to go with Mrs. Pelham while Lucy organized.

The kitchen was in an outbuilding, connected by a breezeway.

Alys hugged herself to stay warm.

“Smokehouse is over there, and the stillroom is off the kitchen.

We’ve plenty of space at least and have designated a cold larder.”

“What about a pastry room?”

“There’s space if you can get the equipment.” The housekeeper opened the heavy wooden door and ushered her in.

Alys saw a large, high-ceilinged room with a stone floor. That much was suitable. At one end was an enormous fireplace with a built-in brick oven to the right. Various tables served for work spaces, along with a waist-high mortar and pestle.

“The dairy is separate,” Mrs. Pelham announced.

“You’ll need a full staff to manage this,” Alys said.

“Yes, miss. I’d better send for coffee, but it won’t be available until tomorrow. We’re a mile from the village, as you saw, and it is getting late.”

“Can you make broth?”

“I have stew prepared.”

“That’s very heavy for Rose. Can you strain out the meat and make her a pot of strong tea?”

“Yes, I’ll do that.”

“Very well. I think I shall go back upstairs and write Mother.

There’s a great deal that needs doing.”

“Did you bring any kind of kitchen supplies?”

“Nothing. We only knew we were coming last night, though my father had been planning the trip.”

BOOK: The Marquess of Cake
10.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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