An Earl Like No Other (4 page)

“I shall take your word for that. My younger brother served with the Forty-sixth Rifle Regiment. Captain Robert Chilton. Might you have known him in the Peninsula? He's with the army of occupation in France now.”

She raised her brows in surprise. “Yes, I did know then-Lieutenant Chilton—slightly. He was one of my husband's fellow officers.”

He thought her response seemed evasive, but he could not waste time worrying about it. “Shall we agree to a trial period of three months?”

“That will be acceptable, my lord.”

They discussed the details of a modest salary, time off each week, and arrangements for her and her son to travel by mail coach to Kenrick, a small town in Yorkshire. Jeremy explained that he had not brought a carriage to the city and would begin his ride back the next day. He thanked Phillips, saw the two of them to the door, and gazed thoughtfully after them.

This trip to London might, in the end, prove very satisfying. Investing in cargo ships was a gamble, though. Was he turning into his father? Still, he felt some relief at having hired a housekeeper.

 

As Phillips escorted her to the carriage and then back to his own house in Bloomsbury, Kate allowed herself the luxury of looking to the immediate future with something resembling optimism for the first time in months. She realized the stay at Wynstan Castle had been far more oppressive than she had thought at the time.

She had been nervous about meeting the earl, for so much had depended on this interview! What if he had dismissed her out of hand? He was younger than she had expected, though Mr. Phillips had said they were once schoolfellows. She thought he was probably near her own age. He was rather a large man, but it was not physical presence alone that made him seem a downright imposing figure. It was that direct way of looking at one. His blue eyes were flecked with a darker color, like unpolished lapis lazuli. Heavy dark brows over a once straight, now slightly crooked nose gave him a forbidding demeanor. Carelessly styled dark brown hair showed a touch of gray at the temples. He certainly did not
look
impoverished. His attire, while not of the first stare of fashion, was refined and altogether fitting. He might have been a most attractive specimen if he had smiled, but the man had not smiled even once.

Not since those earliest days with Arthur had she been so intensely aware of the mere physical presence of a man. When he took her thinly gloved hand in his work-roughened clasp, she had raised her eyes to his and felt something electric pass between them. But now she put that bit of utter foolishness down to her own apprehension about the outcome of the interview.

“Have you been to Kenrick Hall?” she asked Phillips.

“Not in recent years,” he replied. “Kenrick comes to town when he needs to see me. He was one of the clients I inherited when I took over my father's practice, though I also knew him in school. Father always said the earldom had gone downhill—he was distressed by what had happened. However, I think that it still has great potential.”

“By which you mean?”

“That with good management—something that was significantly absent when the current earl's father was in charge—the estates might reap a very nice income. In fact, my father always thought Kenrick
could
be a very rich man indeed.”

“But the current earl is not?”

“No, he is not. His grandfather was rather indifferent to what he referred to as ‘newfangled ideas' of agriculture. Kenrick's father, of course, was a wastrel and brought the place to near ruin.”

Kate must have looked mildly shocked at this revelation, for Phillips continued, “No, Lady Arthur, I am not telling tales out of school. The whole
ton
knows the sixth earl was sinfully profligate and that Jeremy Chilton inherited a title laden with debt and mortgages.”

“Were the lands not entailed?” Kate's curiosity was crowding out good manners.

“The entail died with Kenrick's grandfather—the fifth earl. And his son—the current Lord Kenrick's father—managed to squander or mortgage nearly everything.”

In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought, and said, “You seem on closer terms with the earl than is usual for a mere business relationship—rather like that between you and my husband.”

He chuckled. “You are a most observant woman, Lady Arthur. Remind me not to underestimate you.”

“Please—you must call me
Mrs
. Arthur.”

“You're right. I almost slipped with Kenrick. To answer your question, Kenrick is a year or so older than I, but we knew each other as schoolboys at Winchester, then we went off to Oxford, but were in different colleges. We drifted apart when I left to study law at Lincoln's Inn. After that, he was in North America for a number of years. Never expected to return. They say the test of a friendship is how two people react after a prolonged absence. In that regard, Kenrick and I pass the test. As with Arthur, Jeremy is not just a client—he's a friend.”

“I do not recall Arthur's ever mentioning him.”

“That's not surprising. Arthur never knew him. That is, I don't
think
the two ever met. If so, it would have been very fleetingly. As I said, Jeremy was a year older—and a far more serious student in those days than either Arthur or I.” He chuckled at some distant memory.

“So,” she said lightly, “you have obtained a position for me with an impoverished earl.”

“I hope not. I doubt he will become truly impoverished. He is not without prospects or potential.” But the sensible solicitor offered nothing more on that topic.

“In any event, this temporary position suits my needs perfectly and I do thank you!”

A
week later, Kate and Ned stood in the open yard of the only inn in the town of Kenrick. The coach in which they had arrived had left only moments before. Mother and son were both tired, having been cooped up in a coach for four days, though Phillips had seen to it that they had sufficient funds for accommodations along the way. He had also arranged for his own middle-aged housekeeper to accompany the young widow and her child. Mrs. Sealy was overdue for a visit with her brother in York, the Phillipses insisted over Kate's protests. Ned had fidgeted and fussed during this last morning, asking repeatedly, “Are we there yet?” Now, here they were in the courtyard of an inn and no one to meet them.

“Mrs. Arthur?” The man's voice startled her. He tipped his hat to her as she turned. “I'm Cuthbertson, Lord Kenrick's coachman. His lordship sent me to collect you and the boy.” The man's accent was so heavy Kate had to strain to define the individual words. “He would've come hisself, but they needed 'im in the birthin' barn.”

“Birthing barn?” she asked.

“Sheep. A couple of prize ewes are having a tough time.”

“Sheep,” she echoed, feeling decidedly stupid.

“This here's sheep country,” he said. “Finest wool in England. Kenrick's got some o' the best. An' this bein' lambin' season an' all . . .” He took the bag Kate had been holding and glanced at the bag and the guitar at her feet. “Where's your trunk?”

“We have no trunk. This is all we have.”

He seemed surprised at this, but said nothing as he stored the luggage and the instrument in the rear of the carriage. He opened the door and pulled down the steps. Kate motioned for Ned to scramble to his seat.

“How far is it to the Hall?” she asked.

Cuthbertson handed her in as he answered. “ 'Bout half an hour.”

Once under way, Kate pulled aside the heavy curtains on the carriage windows and fastened them so that she and Ned could see the area that was to be their new home, however temporarily.

“Look, Mama!” Ned giggled at the antics of new lambs in a field.

The white sheep, some with black faces, stood out in stark contrast to the green of fields and rolling hills. Here and there sharper projections of gray stone or clumps of trees provided variety to the landscape. Stone fences separated fields, some with sheep, others with crops. Above, a blue sky dotted with wispy clouds added another dimension of color to the scene.

Kate gradually relaxed. She had expected to be on edge until she settled into the routine of this new stage in her life. But already the contrasts of comforting colors and intriguing landscape were creating a sense of calm and well-being. Perhaps this had been a good move after all.

She felt the carriage slow and sensed the horses straining to ascend a hill. At the crest, she looked across the way to see a mansion of gray stone with a slate roof. Imperiously, it dominated an elevated crop of land on the far side of a green valley. Yet it seemed to blend in perfectly with its surroundings. Very picturesque, she thought.

“That must be Kenrick Hall,” she said to Ned.

“ 'Tis big, Mama. But not so big as Wynstan Castle.”

“It is large,” she agreed, “larger than I expected. But you must remember, my darling, not to mention Wynstan to anyone.”

“I
know
, Mama,” he replied impatiently.

Kate glanced out the window again. Silently, she questioned Lord Kenrick's informing her of a staff of thirty or so. Surely it would take at least twice that many for a house this size! Though she had seen only the front of the building, she conjectured it would have at least two, possibly three wings—each with three stories and an attic and cellar as well.

From the crest of the hill they had climbed, she could see the road winding down and through a lane of trees showing the green-gold of early springtime leaves. It crossed an ancient stone bridge, then took a wide sweep in front of the mansion. The carriage rounded the building and came to a stop in the rear.

A servant hurried forward to open the carriage door. Ned jumped out and stood shyly waiting for his mother. The servant helped her alight and she held Ned's small hand in her own as an anchor to familiarity, for she was suddenly aware that she had not dispelled
all
her nervousness about this adventure she was embarking upon. A heavy oaken door opened to reveal a man who looked about sixty and walked in a stiff, upright manner. He had rather thin hair, a gray mustache, and a very precise air about him.

“Welcome to Kenrick Hall, madam. His lordship told me to expect you. I'm Wilkins, the butler.”

Kate nodded her acknowledgment. “Thank you, Mr. Wilkins. I am, of course, Mrs. Arthur and this is my son, Ned.”

“Lord Kenrick warned me about the boy,” Wilkins said.

“
Warned
?” She raised a brow. “His lordship assured me that my son would pose no problem for the household.”

Kate knew it was important to establish herself immediately. The Good Lord knew she had seen enough new officers take over existing regiments to know what her role would be in this household.

Wilkins swallowed visibly and replied in a slightly mollified tone, “He told me. But 'tis unusual, you know. I assume you will ensure that the child is no hindrance to the staff.”

“You may depend upon it,” she said. “Now, if you will show me to my room, I will attend to my son and then someone may show me around.”

“Yes, madam. His lordship would like to see you in the library when you are ready.”

“Please tell him I will be there very shortly.”

They had moved into the kitchen. It was large with a slate floor and two long worktables in the center of the room. Kate noted two large ranges, but only one seemed to be in use. The whitewashed walls were streaked with soot from the coal-burning stoves. Wilkins introduced her to the cook, an older woman named Sally Jenkins, and three younger women, obviously kitchen maids.

Kate nodded at each in turn and noted that they cast inquisitive looks her way. Sally Jenkins was a robust, gray-haired woman of mid- to late-forties, Kate guessed. She had a round face reddened by an open fire over which she had been tending a roast on a spit.

“Smells good,” Kate said appreciatively, but she noticed the girl who'd been introduced as Rosie roll her eyes behind the cook's back.

Mrs. Jenkins acknowledged the introduction hastily and muttered something about having to get the midday meal on the table.

Rosie was a slight girl of perhaps fifteen years. She had reddish brown hair and a ready smile. Wilkins instructed her to show Mrs. Arthur to the housekeeper's rooms and wait to show her to the library.

“Yes, Mr. Wilkins,” Rosie said with just a touch of sauciness in her tone.

He frowned at her, but turned on his heel and left the kitchen.

Rosie kept up a patter of chitchat as she led Kate and Ned down a narrow hall to two plainly furnished rooms. “Old Mrs. Preston had these rooms. The bedchamber is rather crowded since we put in a cot for your boy, but the sitting room is proper comfortable enough.”

Kate looked around. “Yes, I can see that it is.”

The furniture—a couch, a wing chair, and a small table with two straight chairs—was worn, but, aside from needing a thorough dusting, it was clean. “Lord knows you have lived happily in surroundings far less elegant,” she told herself, recalling accommodations she and Arthur had endured on the Peninsula. She quickly removed her hat and cloak, glad that she had not entirely put off her sober half-mourning clothing; it would do very well for a housekeeper. She forced stray wisps of hair back into the severe bun, wishing she had time to redo it entirely. She wet a cloth in the basin and wiped her face, then dug around in one of the bags to find the mobcap she had secured as a badge of her new station in life.

She sat Ned down at the table in the sitting room where she gave him not only the last of the biscuits they had occasionally munched on during their journey, but also a piece of paper and a graphite pencil with which to amuse himself.

She kissed the top of his head. “You be a good boy, son. I'll be back soon.”

“Yes, Mama.” He was already engrossed in his drawing.

“I'll keep a watch on 'im for you,” Rosie volunteered as she showed Kate the way to the library.

“Thank you, Miss Davis.”

“Nobody calls me Miss Davis—just Rosie.”

“
I
shall call you Miss Davis,” Kate said firmly.

Rosie grinned. “Well, ma'am, that could get confusing as my sister Nell, she works here too, and she be a Miss Davis too.”

“Hmm. That does present a problem,” Kate said and then admitted defeat with a smile. “Very well, then, Rosie it is.”

Rosie was quiet for a moment, then she said shyly, “You seem rather young for a housekeeper.”

“I suppose I am,” Kate admitted, “but there is no age requirement for doing a good job, now, is there?”

“No, ma'am.” Rosie paused again then said, “We downstairs folks are that glad you've come, ma'am.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, ma'am. Mrs. Jenkins, she's a good soul—an' she does know how to cook all right, but she don't have much imagination. We're hopin' our meals might change some now you're here.”

“I . . . see.”

“Mind you, his lordship don't stint on food for the help,” Rosie hastened to explain. “An' he ain't one to try to trap a girl beneath the stairs none, neither.”

“I should hope not,” Kate said.

“They's lot o' them what do,” Rosie said knowingly.

“You have worked in other houses, then?” Kate asked.

“Oh, no. Only here. Me da's one o' Kenrick's tenant farmers, but I got friends in other houses around. There ain't no place so good as here,” she said proudly, “ 'spite o' his lordship's troubles.”

Kate was spared an improper or quelling response to this, for they had arrived at the library door. The moment they passed through the door separating the service areas from the family's quarters, she was intrigued by what she saw. Not surprisingly, the halls here were wider, the furnishings more lavish. But everywhere there were signs of neglect. Yes, the earl certainly needed someone to take charge of his household. She waved Rosie a farewell and rapped lightly on the library door.

“Yes. Come in,” a deep voice answered. “Ah, Mrs. Arthur.” He rose behind the desk to greet her. A small, white-haired woman seemed to have been dozing, but sat upright on hearing his voice.

Today, the Earl of Kenrick did not resemble any peer of the realm she had ever seen. He was dressed much as a common laborer might have been in a well-worn pair of buckskin breeches and an open shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Open at the neck, the shirt revealed a bit of dark hair. He gestured for her to be seated in a chair in front of the desk. She noted the hard muscles of his arms and that his shoulders made an ordinary worker's shirt a most interesting garment, despite its stains.

She quickly gave herself a mental shake and tried to concentrate on what he was saying. Which was hard to do—distracted as she was by watching his hands idly playing with a small paperweight as he talked. He looked comfortable enough behind the desk, but she suspected he was a man who was more at ease out of doors than in. She tore her gaze away from his hands and looked into his eyes. Oh, dear. That was an error. One could get lost there! Unable to look away, she held his gaze for what seemed an eternity. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Mrs. Arthur, allow me to introduce my aunt, Lady Elinor Chilton Baxter.”

“My lady,” Kate murmured politely and bobbed her head in acknowledgement.

“I trust your journey was a pleasant one.” The older woman's voice was strong and firm in contrast to the slightly vacant look in her eyes and a cane near her elbow.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Wilkins will have someone show you around after the midday meal and you may begin your duties as soon as you are settled in,” her employer said.

“Yes, my lord.”

“I trust you know far more about housekeeping than I do,” he said. “I have made it clear that you are in charge. Mind you, Wilkins has his nose slightly out of joint, but he will get over it.”

“I—I don't understand.” Lord. Was she going to start off on the wrong foot with the butler? Had she already done so?

The man behind the desk ran his hand nervously through previously disheveled hair. “The truth is, the manor needs more than a mere housekeeper. It needs an overseer—someone to take charge. A chatelaine, if you will.”

A wife, she thought, but of course she could not say that.

“In most houses, a wife performs the role I am outlining for you,” he said, just as though he had read her mind. “But mine is a bachelor establishment—and likely to remain such.”

“My nephew wants a housewife, but not a wife,” his aunt interjected.

“Yes. Something like that.” He looked slightly embarrassed, but grinned briefly, flashing even white teeth against a tanned complexion.

Oh, Lord,
Kate thought.
You smile at the ladies like that and you will have a wife—a real wife—forthwith.

“One of the maids and a footman must be available regularly to attend Lady Elinor, but if you need to hire additional help, we could—perhaps—do with one or two more—but no more than that.” He ended on a note of caution.

“Let me consider the matter,” Kate said. “I cannot make such a request until I know the house and the staff better.”

“Of course.”

The interview over, she saw that her son was fed, then she joined the staff in the servants' hall for the midday meal. Wilkins stood at the head of one long table and motioned her to that place at the other one.

“This is Mrs. Arthur, the new housekeeper,” Wilkins announced, still standing along with Kate.