A Worthy Wife (14 page)

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The trip to Windrush took longer than expected. Aurora’s maid, Judith, growing larger by the moment, grew uncomfortable sitting for long stretches, and the constant motion of the carriage roiled her stomach. The sounds of her retching made Aurora ill, so they took to stopping frequently. Every time they did pull over at a grassy area or an inn, Ned went off exploring. Never having been out of the City before, he kept getting lost. The urchin who could find his way about London’s netherworld in the dark on a foggy night, could not tell a bush from a brier patch. So the one-eared soldier, having decided that the duties at Lady Anstruther-Jones’s house were
not to his liking, had to ride after him on Magpie, the old cart horse who had no hurry left in him. By the time they found Ned, Sweety needed to be exercised, Magpie needed to be rested, and Judith was hungry again. The driver was nervous around the monkey, the groom was nervous around a pregnant woman, and Aurora was so nervous about her reception at Windrush that she did not even mind the extra days of travel.

Things were worse there than she’d imagined. Mrs. Podell, who was now reclaiming her maiden title, Lady Brianne, would not come out of her room to greet her new sister-in-law. Aunt Ellenette would not permit the monkey in the house, because Frederick did not like him. The bailiff refused to hire a handicapped man or find a home for a fallen woman, and the local vicar, on their first Sunday service in Windrush’s private chapel, lectured on loose women, looking at Judith, then Aurora. Lady Brianne did not attend. None of the neighboring gentry called with congratulations; all of the tenant farmers called with complaints.

Whereas Aurora had feared the Warriner ladies would not relinquish the reins of Windrush Manor, she found them practically thrown at her. Declaring she was at wits’ end—not a far journey, it seemed—Aunt Ellenette handed over the keys to the household, the unbalanced account books, and a loose ceiling tile that had fallen on her bed, almost flattening Frederick. Then she retired to the shabby sofa with a novel and a box of bonbons.

Lord Windham, it appeared, had been away a bit too long. If he’d been nearby, Aurora would have tossed the tile at him. But he was gone; and she was Lady Windham, and she was going to prove she could make him a proper countess, or die trying.

She set Mr. Dawson, the former East India Company employee who was not an embezzler, in charge of the ledgers. She sent Ned to explore the rundown house to see what needed to be repaired first. The place was enormous, but she didn’t think he could get lost. And she set the bailiff straight as to who was in charge. Lord Windham had given her a blank check, his signet ring, and a hurriedly scrawled note stating, “Lady Windham
speaks for me.” She also spoke to the vicar about Christian charity, and about who held the purse strings of his living.

Aurora rode around the estate, introducing herself to the tenants’ wives, the ones who really knew what needed to be done. They needed a school and a doctor, and that marshy area drained so the insects couldn’t breed. They needed a lower price at the flour mill and a higher price for their spun wool. Windrush was overrun with rabbits and deer, eating their kitchen gardens, while the parish poorhouse went hungry, they told her.

In the village the shopkeepers couldn’t wait to pour their complaints into her ears as soon as their outstanding bills were paid. The roads were in poor condition, so little traffic passed through, which meant less business. The tosspot of a sheriff, appointed by the magistrate, had fallen off his horse, so now they had no one enforcing the law or keeping the pub from getting boisterous on a Saturday night. The earl, of course, was magistrate, and in charge of maintaining the section of highway.

Aurora made lists, and then more lists. She cashed her blank check, and more checks. She sent to London for supplies and fabric swatches and more of the unemployed soldiers. The road was regraded, the tenants’ roofs were rethatched, and a reasonable rate was established at the grist mill. Aurora had to agree to hire the miller’s untrained daughter as her maid to replace Judith, in exchange, but the girl was learning. The vicar’s nephew was hired fresh out of university to teach at the refurbished school, to Ned’s sorrow. He was finally getting to know his way around the countryside, and now he’d be in a classroom. No doctor answered her advertisements, but Aurora knew Windham was intending to bring one with him, to care for Christopher.

Once the Windham dependents’ needs were met, Aurora turned her attention to the house. She had the indolent staff working harder than they had since Windham’s mother’s time, cleaning and polishing and mending. Aurora ransacked the attics, ordered from Ackerman’s, and appointed Mr. Dawson, who was not an embezzler, as
factotem, now that he had the accounts up to date. The bailiff quit in protest before Mr. Dawson could discuss the discrepancies he’d found. Aurora hired one of the tenant farmers to oversee the lands, pending Lord Windham’s approval, of course.

She found an empty cottage for Judith and helped clean that, too. Judith would move in as soon as the house was ready and Aurora’s new maid could sew a nearly invisible seam. The injured veteran was going to move in, too, as soon as the banns were read. He didn’t mind standing father to another man’s babe, he said, for with one stone he wasn’t likely to sire a son of his own. He became the new gamekeeper, charged with keeping game on the poorhouse table and out of the tenants’ gardens. He was also named the new sheriff, pending Windham’s approval, of course. Aurora saw no reason he couldn’t do two jobs.

She fell into bed every night exhausted, but she was taking care of everything she could except for the swamp, leaving that for Aunt Thisbe and Uncle Ptolemy when they arrived, pending Windham’s approval, of course. Now Lady Windham was ready to see about her new relations.

Chapter Fourteen

“Meals will not be served in the bedchambers
henceforth, except for breakfast.” Aurora made the announcement in the little chapel after the Sunday service. Everyone in the household was present, except Aunt Ellenette, who never rose before noon, and Lady Brianne. “My aunt and uncle are arriving shortly, as are his lordship and Captain Warriner. The staff will have enough extra work.”

“But my lady is ailing,” claimed the former Mrs. Podell’s maid, a gray-haired woman of more starch than sense. “My lady cannot be disturbed.”

“Your lady,” Aurora declared, “is disturbing the entire household. The footmen have better things to do than carry trays all day, and the kitchens cannot be expected to prepare meals at all hours. They certainly should not have to cook Lady Brianne’s favorites when the rest of the family is eating something else.” She thought she heard an “Amen” from the rear, where Cook was sitting. “If she is too ill to come downstairs, Cook can send up some beef broth or calf s foot jelly—invalid food.”

“That’s right, Lady Windham, you tell ’er.” That also came from the back. The servants had given over resenting Aurora’s demands when she had seen their quarterly wages paid on time, and increased, besides. Loyalty to the family was one thing; new uniforms, new mattresses, and new coins were another. Besides, the new Lady Windham was family now, wasn’t she?

Lady Brianne’s maid crossed her arms over her bony chest and stuck her chin out. “We’ll see who rules this roost soon enough.”

Since the woman’s belligerent pose merely reminded her of Frederick, the pug, Aurora just smiled. She’d routed the mutt; she could best the maid. Unchecked by his mistress, Frederick had snapped at Judith, growled at Ned, and shredded Aurora’s favorite slippers. So she brought Sweety inside from the stables. “If your pet can reside indoors,” she’d announced to Aunt Ellenette, “so can mine.” She had a portion of the conservatory turned over to the monkey, and the boot boy assigned to playing with Sweety when Ned was at school. And she brought the monkey into the parlor on occasion, on a leash. Frederick never bothered her again after Sweety swung him overhead by his curly little tail. In fact, Frederick hardly came out from under the sofa. If he spoke about it to Aunt Ellenette, Aurora did not know, for that highly affronted lady was not speaking to her. Now Aurora did not have to hear how Windham’s mother had managed the estate.

“Until his lordship returns,” she told the maid, the same as she had told Aunt Ellenette and the other servants, “I am in charge. If I declare supper be served in the wine cellar, I expect Lady Brianne to be there. And do not think to cross me in this, to carry trays or fix meals yourself, for I write your pay check, not Mrs. Podell.”

Head high, Aurora left the chapel, praying none of the servants could tell how she was trembling within. Never in her life had she threatened a servant or delivered ultimatums to a lady who was older than she was, and better born. But she’d promised to comfort Windham’s sister, and the woman was going to be comforted, willy-nilly.

Aurora had yet to get a glimpse of her new sister-in-law. She had noticed curtains twitched aside when she was coming or going from the carriage drive, and she’d heard doors quietly cracked open when she passed in the hall. Lady Brianne was curious, at any rate. Soon she would be hungry.

She must have had a reserve cache of food, or Aunt Ellenette was bringing her bonbons, for Lady Brianne did not appear at the luncheon table, the dinner table,
or in the drawing room for late tea that evening. The next day’s luncheon also passed quietly without her presence. Aurora was thinking about the price of wool, and Aunt Ellenette was still not speaking, except to Frederick, who was not permitted in the morning room since he had attacked one of the footmen over a plate of meat pasties.

That evening Aurora had Judith and her new maid, Maisy, take extra care with her toilette. She wore her prettiest new gown and her mother’s pearls, thinking how pitifully equipped she was to impress the one-time heiress, the one-time Incomparable, the one-time Toast of London. One more day of Aunt Ellenette’s sullen silence and she’d bring Sweety to the dinner table.

Lady Brianne had certainly not gone to any pains to impress Aurora. She came down to the drawing room before dinner supported by her maid on one side and a sturdy footman on the other. She wore a black crepe gown that was finely crafted but ill-fitting, as though she had gained a few pounds from such prolonged inactivity. Her complexion, which should have been the peaches and cream of an auburn-haired beauty, looked pasty from lack of sunlight, and her hair hung limply down her back, under its scrap of black lace. She was, however, wearing diamonds—the Windham diamonds if Aurora was not mistaken from Kenyon’s description, jewels which should by rights go to the new Lady Windham. The heavy necklace and matching ear bobs would have commanded attention at the opera or Carlton House. They looked absurd at a family dinner for three women. The challenge was issued, though, the insult egregious. Aurora decided not to rise to that bait, however. She’d let Aunt Thisbe and Uncle Ptolemy drain Grendel’s fen; the earl could defang the dragon himself.

Aurora made a polite welcome, inquiring into her sister-in-law’s health and expressing pleasure that she could join them.

Lady Brianne sniffed. “As though I had a choice.” She gave the barest nod to acknowledge Aurora’s greeting before taking a seat next to her aunt.

“Where is dearest Frederick, Aunt Ellenette?” she
cooed. “I was hoping for some intelligent conversation during dinner.”

Aurora grimaced to see Brianne peering into the corners of the room and under the furniture, looking for the pug dog. Another Warriner too proud to admit a defect in the noble line—just what she needed.

“Shall I send a servant to fetch your spectacles, my lady?” she asked, all solicitous courtesy. “Squinting causes frown lines, I always thought.”

Lady Brianne hurriedly removed an elegant gold lorgnette from her gown’s pocket. “That will not be necessary.” She then proceeded to inspect the redecorated room, addressing her remarks to Aunt Ellenette exclusively. The sofa was too close to the fireplace, the new draperies were too garish in color, the china dogs on the mantel were too mawkish for a gentleman’s residence.

Aunt Ellenette tried to hush her niece. Not speaking was one thing, but to be so blatantly offensive was another. Besides, Aunt Ellenette adored the Staffordshire dogs. She also appreciated how comfortably cozy the sofa was, how the whole room seemed brighter with the new hangings, and how her bedroom ceiling no longer sagged. Further, no one was bothering her with menus or mending or tradesmen’s bills. Aunt Ellenette might even enjoy having the new Lady Windham around, if Frederick approved. Since he hadn’t come out from under the bed since that dreadful ape incident, she did not know. She did know proper behavior, though. “But the room is much tidier, dear. You know how we used to sneeze from the dust.”

Brianne did not listen to her aunt’s gentle hint. She likely never listened to anyone, Aurora thought, recognizing Lady Brianne’s spitefulness from the spoiled beauties she had seen in Bath on occasion. The erstwhile widow was not in a decline; she was in a petulant pother. The well-padded female was not vaporish, just viperish, and Aurora was done listening to her venom. The diamonds and the fault finding were petty aggravations, more a reflection of the woman’s bad manners and bad temper than anything else. But for Lady Brianne to criticize the fire screen Aunt Thisbe had embroidered as a wedding gift was the outside of enough.

“
Lumbricus terrestris
is an invaluable creature and deserves to be immortalized, Lady Brianne. More important, the screen was a gift from my beloved aunt, who is due to arrive any day. If this is the way you intend to go on when my relatives come, perhaps you would do better in your rooms after all.” It was not quite a threat, for they both knew Aurora could not lock the earl’s sister in her chambers.