The Suitable Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 2) (3 page)

The laughter only increased at her exit, and as she ran up to her room, she heard Jarvis call out, making her father laugh harder, “It seems the young miss isn’t too happy about my offer!”

Chapter Four

Any excitement Edward felt in
procuring the house dwindled within the next few days. He had severely underestimated the amount of labour it would take to bring the house back to an acceptable living standard. His brother was good to his word and sent as many men as he could spare. His mother, Mrs Edwina Emberton, sent numerous letters to those in her acquaintance informing them that he was in need of servants of every kind.

As Edward stood in what would be his dining room and watched the chimney sweep and his lad make preparations to clean out one of the numerous chimneys the house possessed, he wondered whether it was all worth it. The thought passed his mind that it would have been so much easier to take on a house that was already liveable. He knew when it was all finished, he would be happy with the end result and the house, as he stated before, would be decorated to his taste and not to anyone else’s. In its present state, all the upheaval, mess, and chaos that surrounded him filled him with dread.

Edward Emberton was not a man to give up easily. Once he had set his mind to a task, he saw it right through to the bitter end. This project was to be no exception. He spun around on his heel and marched out of the room. He made his way down to the kitchens where he found Patrick O’Reilly, a man who came highly recommended for the position of steward.

“Ah! There you are, sir. I was just looking around at the range in here. It’s fairly falling apart. And the hot water system,” he pointed to a lead-lined tank next to the range, “leaks. Will have to patch that up or replace it.”

“What would be the cost of both? Would it be more cost-effective to replace it or to have it fixed?” Edward frowned.

“In my opinion, sir, you’d be best off replacing the lot. I wouldn’t cook using that, let alone allow a woman to. No, sir, that there,” he nodded at the rusty range, “is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Right. Order a new one. The same goes for the lead-lined hot water tank.” Edward placed his hands on his hips and looked around the room. “I’ll not have anything dangerous in here.” He sighed as it dawned upon him that he would have to dig deep into his pockets to restore the house. “Take a look around, will you? Take an inventory of all the things I need to purchase, then find out the best prices we can get them for. Let’s get things in order once and for all.”

“Aye, I’ll be sure to get the best deals I can. Don’t you worry about that,” the weather-faced Irishman assured him.

“Right. Which room is next?”

“Well, I looked into the laundry room, and the coppers are all fine. I haven’t been outside, sir. I thought it best to deal with what’s inside first.”

“Yes, you’re right. Is there anything else down here that we need to look at?”

“No. The chimneys need sweeping and there’s a little bit of carpentry that needs to be done, but that’s also down here. However, if I may be so bold, I’d like to go up to the servants’ quarters in the attic, sir. There’re some terribly leaky roofs up there.”

“Let’s go there now. The last thing I want is for more damage when the next rain comes,” Edward replied while making his way to the staircase, the sound of the footsteps of the steward close behind. Edward and his brothers often used the servants’ staircase to evade capture by the governors or tutors they had enraged, so he thought himself familiar with such things. As an adult, he realised how incommodious they were. “Make sure someone checks these railings are fastened properly,” he barked.

Despite having grown up in Emberton Hall, a grand and stately Georgian house, Edward never once had traversed the service passages all the way to the top of the house. Never even as a curious child had he desired to see what the servants’ quarters looked like. He realised there were things he ought to learn quickly as master of the house with no mistress to take care of it. He discovered the quarters were separated by a door in the middle of the corridor. Patrick informed him that was because the women took one side and the men took the other. Edward raised his eyebrows.

“It’s quite strict, I assure you. Only your housekeeper will have the keys, and we both know from experience that they are often very formidable women,” the steward chortled, his red curls bouncing atop his head.

“And the reason for this?”

“Well, you know… just to stop…” Patrick looked discomfited.

“To stop what?” Edward pressed.

“Fraternising, sir. To put a stop to fraternising.” He shrugged.

“Amongst the servants?”

“Aye, amongst the servants. They are human too, sir,” O’Reilly replied, stifling a chuckle.

Edward was slightly irritated at the man’s tone but shook it off. “I’m aware of that, O’Reilly, but why would it be deemed necessary in the first place?”

“Because, sir, you would not want any unwanted little surprises under your roof, would you?” He tilted his head and opened his eyes wide. “If you catch my meaning.”

“Ah, the avoidance of scandal yet again.” Edward breathed in heavily through his nose and shook his head. It was certainly a minefield, being a bachelor in one’s own home. Running a household was a woman’s domain, and Edward was reminded yet again of his need for a wife.

“Of course,” Patrick shifted uncomfortably, “some households allow servants to marry, but that is entirely at the discretion of the master and mistress.”

“And so it should be,” Edward replied vehemently. “Let’s see these leaky roofs, then.”

Edward spent the rest of the day in the company of his steward, documenting, assessing, and evaluating all of the work that needed to be done on the house. All the while, he could not get the niggling thought out of his head that he was out of his depth and needed someone by his side who knew what they were doing. On many occasions he was caught wrong-footed by a comment or question O’Reilly directed at him.

He mentally berated himself for never having paid attention to what his mother did around the house. She managed the entire household, both upstairs and downstairs, effortlessly and without the notice of any of them. He realised now what a fool he had been in taking his mother for granted. He decided that when he returned to Emberton Hall that night, he would seek out his mother and ask her to help him. It went against all of his instincts as an independent, upstanding gentleman, but he knew when to admit defeat. And he was defeated now. He recognised he needed her hand at the tiller to steer him away from the rocks. The cost of restoring and repairing Sandon Place was escalating, and he knew his mother would never allow such a thing to happen if she were in control.

He battled with his own conscience all the way back to Emberton Hall but came to the inevitable logical conclusion that he had to ask for help. He had no choice.

The whole situation was made easier upon finding Edwina Emberton alone in the drawing room when he arrived back. She listened very carefully to what he had to say. She did not interrupt once but allowed him to speak his mind. Then, so very patiently and gently, she clasped her hand over his, a smile touching her lips, and said, “I would be only too glad to help you, my son.”

* * * *

Edward spent the next few weeks following his mother around like a lost sheep. She was a gold mine of information, it seemed to him. There was nothing she did not know how to do or how to handle. He was truly blessed to have her assistance and to have her in his life.

He took the habit of carrying with him a notepad and pencil with which he jotted down any titbits of information or tips that he felt would be helpful in the future on running a household. It took only a few weeks, but Edward felt he spent years by his mother’s side learning household management. He did not mind in the least the jibes, the jeering looks, and the comments behind the hands of the workmen as he followed her around, more than once treading upon her skirts. He remembered one of his professors at Oxford telling him that only a fool would not ask for help. He repeated that mantra to himself over and over again when he felt himself becoming impatient: a wise man asks for help.

Important business took Edward to Westminster, where he found lodgings and had to stay for the better part of a week. He was tired and irascible when he returned to Sandon Place. It was evening, but he was eager to see the progress before he returned to Emberton Hall for dinner that night. He knew his mother was there and had arranged to escort her to the Hall, too, after inspecting the work.

The sight that greeted him almost took his breath away. He could scarce believe it. In the few days that he was absent, his mother had worked wonders. The drawing room was completed and the furniture delivered. The hallway was as bright and polished as on the day it was built. The dining room was as yet unfinished but was of no moment. The fact that the end was in sight was a balm to Edward’s soul.

“Well, what do you think, Edward?” his mother called out from her position atop the stairs as she descended to greet him.

“Mother, for once, I am speechless.” Edward stood with his mouth agape, staring in disbelief around him.

“Good! That is what I like to see!” She smiled serenely, slid her arm through his, and led him into the drawing room. “I hope you will not be offended, Edward, but I took the liberty of ordering furniture for the drawing room. You were not available, and I wanted this room to be finished for you upon your return.”

Together they walked into the drawing room, and Edward beamed with satisfaction. The walls were painted a bright, vibrant yellow. When contrasted with the newly restored white plasterwork, it looked positively regal. His mother had chosen elegant jacquard drapes and ordered the same material to upholster the settees and armchairs. In the centre of the room, flanked by two settees, was a beautiful imported Indian rug. Facing the marble fireplace were two armchairs.

Edward turned around in the centre and smiled. “I like this arrangement, Mama.” He sat down in one of the armchairs and crossed his legs. “It forms sort of a box with the fireplace at one end and these chairs at the other. I like the two settees facing each other. Yes, this will make an excellent place to sit and talk with friends,” he declared, his face effused with pleasure.

“And with family too, I hope.” Mrs. Emberton beamed as she sat beside her son in the other armchair.

“Of course,” he said reaching over and patting her hand.

“Do you approve of the colour scheme?”

“I do.” Edward nodded and again his eyes travelled around the room from corner to corner. “I wanted a vivacious yellow in here. It is the height of fashion, and if I do say so myself, it is quite enlivening.”

“Indeed it is. You should see it in the morning, Edward. These windows face east, and this room is flooded with sunlight. Truly, it looks as though we captured summer itself and made a room out of it.”

“That is quite poetic, Mama.”

“Yes, I suppose it is!” Edwina sighed, looking about the room, and said, “I do confess to having enjoyed myself working on your behalf. If only women were able to earn a living doing such things as this.”

“Interior decorating?” Edward looked at his mother, bewildered.

She laughed at the expression on his face. “Yes. If I could make a living decorating people’s homes, I would.” She leant forward and whispered conspiratorially, “But that would not be becoming of a lady, would it?”

“It most certainly would not,” Edward feigned dismay. “In all honesty, Mama, I am deeply grateful to have your assistance. You have no idea how blessed I feel this evening to have walked into this room and see it finished.”

“But I can imagine, my son. The look upon your face is all the reward I need. Now,” she said rising from the chair, “if you would be so kind as to escort me back to Emberton Hall, I believe it is time to return for dinner.”

Edward stood and offered his arm. “It would be my pleasure.”

Chapter Five

That evening at dinner the
family were joined again by the Colemans, where conversation was dominated by one topic alone, that of Edward’s ball. It had been many years since any of the Embertons hosted a ball, the last being when Edward’s father was still alive, and the excitement around the table was almost tangible.

Edward watched with affectionate amusement as Grace told the gathered family and friends about all the arrangements she was involved in for the ball. He was delighted to see this side of Grace’s character emerge. They had known Grace since September of the previous year and watched her blossom from the young, naïve girl into a competent and confident young lady. It seemed to Edward that she had almost single-handedly taken on the entire responsibility for the food and drink for the guests his mother planned on inviting. Her expectant condition gave her a new glow that increased as she spoke so energetically about all of the preparations for the ball.

As he retired that night, his mother handed him a sheaf of paper on which, when he perused it, he saw an apparent never-ending list of names. “What on earth is this, Mama?”

“Your guest list, of course, Edward,” she replied sleepily as they made their way along the gallery and to the west wing where the family rooms were situated.

“This long?” he asked in disbelief as he leafed through the pages in his hand. “How many guests are we inviting?”

“One hundred and fifty, as you very well know.”

He watched as his mother disappeared into her own room and closed the door. Despite his being eternally grateful for all her valuable assistance of late, there were times when she exasperated him beyond belief. He looked down at the list in his hand and sighed. “One hundred and fifty guests in my new home. Where on earth will we put them all?” he muttered to himself as he moved towards his own room. “But perhaps more importantly, how on earth am I going to pay for it all?”

Edward did not sleep well that night. His mind was in turmoil. The house cost far more than he expected, and now he was throwing a ball of such grand proportions that he feared it would empty his pockets entirely. He turned over in his bed, punched his pillow a couple of times to get it into a better shape, and pulled the coverlet up to his chin. The fire was dying in the grate and the temperature was dropping quickly. Edward, snug and warm in the bed, was reluctant to get out and add more wood. He decided that if he did not fall asleep within the next half an hour, then he would brave the cold, build up the fire, and read a book until his mind quietened and he was able to sleep.

Once he made this decision, he slipped quickly and easily into unconsciousness.

* * * *

Martha Coleman did not take any special pains to dress and pretty herself up that evening. Her father’s parting words echoed in her mind ever since he uttered them. She had never considered Edward before. Her heart had naturally gravitated towards Richard, who was now married and entirely unattainable.  Slowly she learned to accept seeing Grace’s saffron hair and delicate beauty at the dining table. The initial injury she felt at the announcement of their engagement was lessening now that a few months had passed.

But Edward!  Did her father know something that she did not? To be sure, he often was in consultation with Mrs Emberton. Was there a confidence there? Had Edwina told her father of any wish regarding Martha and Edward? As much as she tried to stay sensible about the differences in their stations, she could not ignore the awakening interest that her father’s offhand remark produced.

Martha could barely contain herself that night at dinner. The excitement that suffused them all over the ball was contagious. Martha’s mind raced. She knew that if Edward considered her at all, if she stood any chance of securing his heart, then the ball was the place for it to happen. Once he moved permanently into Sandon Place, they would have very few opportunities of meeting. He would make his declaration or, at the very least, some hint towards his affections the night of the ball.

She smiled secretly to herself as she cut into her roast beef. Yes, it was true; time was a great healer, but so also was the prospect of a new love in one’s life. Martha wanted more than anything not to be left a spinster. She wanted to be a wife, a mother, and to have a home of her own. As she placed the fork and the meat into her mouth and chewed slowly, she glanced up at Edward with new eyes and asked herself,
Could he possibly be the man for me? Could I be content with him? More importantly, would he be content with me?
She lowered her gaze and knew in her heart that Edward would be a perfect husband to whomever he chose to marry.

What gave her trouble that night, as she drove home with her father in the Embertons’ borrowed carriage, was that Edward was an ambitious man. Was she elegant enough for him? Was she adequate to be the wife of an up-and-coming politician, a man of great expectation?  Was she suitable for this Emberton brother? Or was she being foolish yet again?

* * * *

The plans were laid, extra servants were hired, the food was bought and being prepared, and the wine cellar was well stocked. Everything was ready for Edward’s ball. The invitations had been sent, unbeknownst to him, by his mother before she even presented him with the list. Again, this irritated him, but he could not but admire her efficiency at the same time.

He was uncertain how many of those one hundred and fifty guests had responded to the invitations, but he could make an educated guess judging from the amount of food and drink that was coming into Sandon Place.

It was the second week of June, and Edward could not have been happier with how well the reparations had gone. The house looked splendid. Two guest rooms were completed; five family bedrooms were restored to their former glory; the roofs were repaired, along with the plasterwork and woodwork throughout the house; the kitchen was home to a brand-new range and cold- and hot-water cisterns. He engaged a jolly woman, Mrs Hopwood, as cook. She could not have been happier with the new range in the kitchen. Fortuitously for Edward, she came with her husband, Ralph, who was a well-reputed gardener. Things were falling into place. His household was coming together nicely. Edward was delighted.

Despite the constant need to travel to Westminster, Edward spent a great deal in Sandon Place. Gradually his belongings were moved from Emberton Hall, and the day finally arrived when Edward could officially move into his new home.

It was strange sensation when Stainton, his butler, closed the door and shut them in for the first time. Edward turned around and stared at the door.

“Is there a problem, sir?” Stainton asked his face etched with concern.

“Not at all, I assure you.”

Edward watched as Stainton looked back at the front door and nodded. “Yes, sir, it is an unusual feeling when you close your own front door for the first time.” The butler bowed and departed, leaving Edward standing alone in the empty entrance hall.

He was not prepared for such an onslaught of emotion. He wondered if Richard had experienced the same thing, and then shrugged off the thought immediately. Of course Richard had not experienced it; he still lived in the same house he grew up in.

He decided the best course of action would be to do something, to occupy his hands and his mind. He turned full circle and tried to decide where to go and what to do. The door at the far end of the entrance hall, towards the back of the house, caught his eye. It was formerly a study, and Edward was in the process of restoring it. Unbidden, his feet took him towards the room.

The servants had been in before him. It was no longer the dusty shell of a room it was before. Now it was clean. The chair and desk were situated looking out of the window and upon the gardens, and someone had lit a small fire. But to make it perfect, the room needed an easy chair for him to recline in. Quickly his mind sought out such a chair, and straightaway he dashed from the room and climbed the stairs two at a time.

Edward knew there was a perfect chair in one of the guest bedrooms. He had no intention of inviting anyone to stay over anytime soon, and so he knew no one would be wanting or missing that chair.

Edward took hold of the chair and lifted it with ease; however, getting it through the door was not so easy. He gave the stubborn piece of furniture a firm push.

“Damn it all to hell!” he exclaimed at the top of his voice as he felt his hand catch between fabric and wood and the flesh tear as he snatched the wounded member to his chest in pain.

In his anger and frustration, he shoved the chair out through the tight opening and was amazed when he saw there was no damage to the paintwork, the woodwork, or the upholstery. Harnessing that rage, Edward lifted the chair again and hurriedly carried it along the corridor and down the stairs to the study. Just as he reached the room, the door to the servants’ staircase opened and a young maid appeared.

“Oh, my word!” she exclaimed, seeing his bloodied hand.

Edward spun around to face her, dropping the chair. “It’s quite all right, I assure you. I -- I’m simply moving this chair from the guest room to here,” he stammered, more embarrassed than anything else.

“D’ya want me t’ fetch someone to come an’ ‘elp you, sir?” she asked in her thick Essex accent.

“No, no, not at all. There’s no need for that,” he spoke hastily, hopping from one foot to another. He watched as her gaze moved between his face and his right hand, the blood running down his fingers, threatening fabric and flooring. Putting down the chair, he continued, “Everything is in order…um…what is your name?” No matter how hard he tried, Edward simply could not recall the girl’s name.

She bobbed a curtsey. “Dorcas, sir.”

“Dorcas!” Edward pointed at her as he recalled who she was. “That’s right.”

“I’ll jus’ get someone to come an’ ‘elp you wiv that,” she turned around so quickly and descended out of sight that Edward did not have a chance to stop her.

He huffed in exasperation. “Now the entire household staff will think I’m a bumbling idiot!” He turned back to the chair. “It’s all your fault, you know!” He looked about him self-consciously and shook his head. “The last thing I need is for them to think I’m insane too!”

Taking a deep breath, Edward lifted the chair one more time, being more careful this time, to navigate through the doorway—he did not think his luck would hold out much longer. He coerced the chair into the study and unceremoniously plonked it in front of the fire.

It was with great pleasure that he sank down into the plush cushions. “Ah! I did it,” he sighed.

“That you may well have, sir, but at what price, I ask you!”

Edward jumped, startled at the woman’s voice. He almost leapt out of the chair. “Mrs Clamp!”

“One and the same,” she said matter-of-factly pointing down at his hand. “Now, let me see what damage you’ve done to yourself.”

It was not a request. The housekeeper was brisk and commanding. There was something reassuring about her manner. Edward held out his hand for her inspection as she set down the bowl of water and dressings she carried. “Ah, I see my staff work quickly,” his face reddened.

Ignoring his comment, she took told of his hand, and turned it over in her own well-worn hands. “Oh, it isn’t as bad as it looks. You’ve grazed off the top of the skin, that’s all.”

Edward smiled at the very slight Scottish accent her voice held, telling of her origins.

“What’re you grinning for? Look at the mess you made!” she scolded. “This could have been so very much worse, Mr Emberton.” She stared into his eyes, and he understood the unspoken warning, knowing if he ever did anything of the sort again, she would come down on him like a fury.

He obediently held out his hand towards the bowl of water and watched patiently as she washed and dressed it, all the while studying the woman before him. She came highly recommended from a friend of his mother’s. The old lady died, leaving an empty house and a nasty legal battle for possession of it. Most of the staff applied for other positions and left. Edward was glad Mrs Clamp came to him. He looked at her hair pulled into a tight bun atop her head and wondered if there was a Mr Clamp.
Aren’t all housekeepers called Mrs?
She had a kindly, mothering nature, and he felt certain he was in good hands, which was a relief to him. After all, he heard some awful stories of men being taken advantage of by their staff and being stripped of all their silver over the years. He did not want that to happen to him.

“There now.” Mrs Clamp stood up straight and stretched her back. “You’ll be as right as rain in a few days, Mr Emberton.” She turned to leave, “Is there anything else I can get you? A hot drink, perhaps?”

“Yes, please. That would be nice,” he replied limply.

“Dinner will be served in an hour, sir. If you need me, I’ll be below stairs supervising the cleaning of the silver.”

“And making sure it’s all still there?” he mumbled.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, hand on the doorknob. “Did you require something else?”

Hastily Edward shook his head. He had not meant to speak his thoughts aloud. “No, nothing at all, Mrs Clamp. Just a cup of tea and dinner in an hour.”