Elizabeth Mansfield (10 page)

"He did?" Parks was taken aback. "He didn't say anything about it to me."

"I don't think he's required to ask your permission," Jane pointed out as gently as she could.

"Well, I ain't handing over any account books to you without his permission, so there!" the butler declared stubbornly.

Jane continued to try to be conciliatory. "It's not as if I'm taking over your responsibilities," she explained. "I'm only here temporarily. To set up a new accounting system, you see."

"I don't see why we need a new system when the old one works just fine. You'll get nothing more from me until his lordship gives me orders." With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of the library in a manner that was decidedly out of countenance.

Jane watched him go, a sigh of discouragement welling up in her. But after a moment, she decided to put the problem out of her mind.
Lord Kettering will surely explain to Parks just what I'm here to accomplish,
she told herself,
so there's no need for me to feel concern.
Once Parks understood her situation, she was certain she and the butler could come to friendly terms. In the meanwhile, she busied herself addressing envelopes to those merchants whose bills she could pay.

That evening, the first since Lady Martha had left, Jane ate a lonely dinner at the long, empty table of the family dining room. She had just risen from her chair when his lordship, only partially dressed in his evening clothes—in shirtsleeves, with his neckcloth undone, and without his coat—burst into the room. "Dash it, ma'am, must you disrupt my entire household?" he demanded.

Her eyes widened.
"I?
What—
?
"

"Parks is beside himself! Burst in on me in my dressing room just before I'd even chosen my waistcoat! He threatens to leave his post at once!"

"Leave his post? Good God, why?"

"It seems you told him that I no longer find him trustworthy. How dare you take it upon yourself to say such a thing to him?"

"I said no such thing," the girl declared, jumping to her feet. "Mr. Parks exaggerates out of all proportion. I merely asked for the household account book."

"What?" Luke blinked in confusion. "The household account book?"

"Yes. I asked to see it. Mr. Parks refused. I think he assumed he was being relieved of the responsibility of keeping the accounts."

Luke eyed her suspiciously. "What did you want the book for?"

"You gave me three hundred pounds last evening. Shouldn't the payments I make with that money be entered into the book?"

"Well, confound it, let
him
enter them if it means so much to him! What difference does it make? Must I be bothered with such trivialities?"

"It makes a difference, my lord. A difference far from trivial. You see, Mr. Parks does not know why I'm here. He should be made to understand that all the household accounts—in fact, everything having to do with your finances—must be turned over to me if I'm to accomplish what I've been brought here to do."

"Then, dash it, why don't
you
explain it to him?"

"I've tried. He will not take my word. It's up to you, my lord, to tell him."

Luke glared at her. "Up to me? Are you daring to educate me on what you judge are my responsibilities?"

"I would not put it in those words, perhaps, but—"

"Then let me put it in other words," he snapped. "You're telling me what to do, is that not so?"

"I suppose..."

"Giving me orders! I'll have you know, my girl, that I will not brook being told what to do by a mere chit in my employ!"

"I don't see how I can avoid telling you what to do," she explained with calm logic, "when it is necessary for something to be done, and you're not doing it."

Luke, uncomfortably aware that he was being irrational, found the reasonableness of both her tone and her words the last straw.
"Damnation,"
he swore, grasping her by the shoulders so furiously she was almost lifted from the floor, "must you always have a ready answer on your tongue? Am I expected to endure having my household at sixes and sevens so long as you are under my roof?"

Jane stared up at him, aghast. He was going to shake her! Instead of the fury she ought to have felt for his rude, unwarranted behavior, she experienced the same weakness in her knees that had struck her when she'd caught her first glimpse of him. The pressure of his grip on her arms, the angry glitter in his eyes, the unruly curl of hair that hung over his forehead, the closeness of his face to hers—so close she could feel the heat that emanated from his skin—all combined to cause a strange turmoil inside her. She recognized that it was an attraction... an attraction so strong it frightened her.

This,
she thought,
is a completely senseless reaction.
She should be furious with him. And, being a sensible woman, she could not permit herself to encourage this weakness in herself, much less this ill-temper in him. He was behaving like a brute, and that she could not permit. She wrenched herself from his hold and turned away, fearful that he might see in her face something of what she was feeling. "Am I, my lord, expected to endure being spoken to and manhandled in this way?" she managed, trying by careful enunciation to hide her breathlessness..

"I'm sorry," he said, thrusting back his disordered hair and trying to regain control of his temper. "I didn't mean to... I shouldn't have..."

"No, you shouldn't have." She rubbed her arms, feeling bruised. "It was... brutish."

"Well, dash it," he retorted, "no one in my employ has ever before dared to contradict my every word, as you do."

"I am not in your employ. Your mother is my employer. Therefore, I shall not find it necessary to give you notice that I am leaving. I shall merely remove myself from this house first thing in the morning." She put her chin up and tried, despite her still-trembling knees, to march purposefully to the door.

"Miss Douglas?" His voice was contrite.

She paused but did not turn. "Yes, my lord?"
 

"I apologize. Forgive my brutishness. I don't usually manhandle the females on my staff. It's only that... you do seem to have a way of raising my hackles."

"Then it's just as well I'm leaving."

Luke suddenly realized he did not want her to leave. He needed her; his mother had not been wrong about that. He had only a month to show his mother he could manage his finances, but what did he know about household accounts, ledgers, investments, and the like? But it wasn't only self-interest that made him wish to keep her here. He was shamed by his behavior. Never in his life before had he handled a woman roughly. Repentant, but nevertheless fully aware of his superior position in this household, he crossed the room to the door and faced her. "Come now, Miss Douglas, don't be difficult," he said with a conciliatory smile. "I apologized, did I not? And very contritely, too."

"You are blocking my way, my lord."

"What if I explain to Parks the conditions of your employment, just as you asked me to?" His lips curved up in a wry—and, to her, very appealing—smile. "Complete surrender. Will that make you relent?"

Steeling herself against the temptation toward additional weakness, she shook her head firmly. "I'm afraid not."

"You are a stubborn creature, ma'am. Will you not believe that I'm truly sorry? I wish I could think of stronger words to say it."

"I hardly think words are adequate," she said coldly.

"But I've offered more than words. I've completely surrendered." He was beginning to enjoy this exchange. She was a challenge to him. It was as good as a game. "Isn't there
something
I can do to make amends?" he asked with a sudden grin. "Sell one of my horses? Cut down on the number of my neckcloths? Go up to the old schoolroom and write 'I will never again manhandle Miss Douglas' twenty times on my slate?"

She did not smile back. "1 don't doubt that your boyish charm can be quite effective, my lord, but I fear that I'm no more susceptible to boyish charm than I am to being manhandled. I'd be obliged if you would step aside."

Defeated, he shrugged and did as she asked. As she brushed past him, he murmured, "Mama will be disappointed."

"Yes, she will," Jane agreed, crossing over the threshold without a backward look, "but she'll forgive you, I'm sure."

"No, she won't," he said ruefully. "I don't think she's susceptible to my boyish charm, either."

"You're probably right," Jane threw back over her shoulder as she made for the stairs. "Boyish charm only goes so far."

But oh, blast you, Luke Hammond,
she thought as she climbed on still-shaking knees up to the third floor,
your boyish charm goes far enough! And, for my peace of mind, much too far for me.

TWELVE

Jane woke early after a fretful sleep. She'd been troubled by dreams in which she was trapped in a succession of strange rooms. One of the rooms had contained an enormous bed that was too high to climb upon and that kept growing higher. Another was a library in which every book had a patch on the spine. All of the rooms had several doors, but she'd been unable to open any of them. It had been a dreadful night.

When she rose and threw aside the curtains, she discovered to her dismay that the shrubbery below her window was iced with sleet. Worse, the icy rain was still falling.
Of course,
she thought, her lip curling bitterly,
it would be sleeting!
She'd have to carry her portmanteau through this downpour to the nearest hostelry (goodness knew how far!), where she could catch a stagecoach. She would probably be chilled to the bone by the time she boarded. This ill luck was all of a piece with her entire London experience. It had been unfortunate from the first.

She wondered, as she packed her meager possessions, if she had enough money for the stagecoach fare. It hadn't occurred to her to ask Lady Martha for a part of her salary; she hadn't anticipated the need for expense money. Worried, she paused in her packing and went to her purse. The few coins in her possession came to four shillings and tuppence. She hoped that would be enough to take her back to Cheshire. If it wasn't, she would take the stage as far as she could, and, wherever it was, she'd find herself some sort of employment to earn the rest of the fare.

As she turned to resume packing, her eye fell on the leather-bound Malory that his lordship had given her. How generous he'd appeared to be that day in the library! He hadn't seemed like the same man yesterday, when he'd grasped her upper arms with such force she felt bruised. "Drat him," she muttered aloud, "I'd like to throw his blasted gift back in his face!" Of course she wouldn't do it. She was too much the lady. But at least she'd leave it behind for him to find. It would convey the message that she'd take nothing from him, nothing at all.

She placed the book conspicuously on the dressing table, strapped up her portmanteau, put on her bonnet and shawl, and, with the luggage under her arm, went from the room. She'd just gone a few steps, however, when she turned, ran back, and snatched up the book. She had to keep it after all; it held too many memories, and not all of them of her father.

She slipped the book into the reticule that hung from her waist and started for the back stairs. But before reaching them, she changed her mind about that, too.
I am not some frightened housemaid stealing away in shame because I'd broken a china vase,
she told herself,
and I will not behave like one.
With chin high, she turned and marched down the front stairway, just as she imagined any man-of-affairs might do, especially one in high dudgeon, as she was.

Her air of bravery was wasted—there was no one about. It was just past seven; the staff was probably still at breakfast. But when she reached the front door, she heard her name being called. She turned to find Mr. Parks hurrying toward her across the marble floor of the foyer. In his arms were three large ledger books. "Miss Jane, please wait!" he called nervously.

She waited. He was quite breathless when he came up to her. "Thank goodness I caught you," he gasped. "If you'd left, I'd be in the soup for sure."

"What are you talking about, Mr. Parks?" Jane asked, puzzled. "What has my going to do with you?"

"Everything! Put down your portmanteau, miss, please!" The man appeared to be distraught. "Here, I've brought you the ledgers. I'm truly sorry I didn't give them to you yesterday, when you first asked. Truly sorry."

"You needn't apologize to me," Jane said, trying to console him. "You were only defending your position here. I quite understand. Believe me, Mr. Parks, my leaving is not your fault."

She turned again to the door, but the butler blocked her way. "Please, Miss Jane, you mustn't go! If you do, I'm finished."

"Finished? I don't know what you mean."

"His lordship gave me a royal tongue-lashing yesterday. Said you would not be leaving if I hadn't set up your bristles, and that if I didn't set things to rights, I'd be sacked forthwith."

Jane gaped at him. "Sacked?"

"Those were his very words—'sacked forthwith.' "

"Do you mean
discharged?'''

The butler nodded glumly. "Before the day is out."

"I don't believe it!" Jane exclaimed. "His lordship wouldn't stoop to such... such..."

"Believe me, he would and he did."

Jane blinked at him, trying to make sense of what she'd heard. "Why, he's trying to intimidate
me
by threatening
you"
she said after a moment. "That's nothing but simple blackmail!"

"I wouldn't call it simple," Parks muttered.

"But it
is
blackmail, and I don't intend to submit to it." Furious, she threw down her portmanteau. "Don't let anyone take this back upstairs," she instructed the butler. "I shall be leaving shortly." And she strode to the stairway.

"Wait, Miss Jane!" the butler cried, dropping the ledgers and running after her in alarm. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going up to face him," she said, mounting the stairs. "Don't worry, Mr. Parks. While I have a breath in my body, I'll not let you lose your post."