Escaping Notice (11 page)

While the material appeared to be of good quality, the color and
design were dreadful on Miss Leigh and drained all the color from
her already grayish face. And as if that weren’t dreadful enough,
the cap she wore over her frizzy brown curls had long streamers of
yellow and red ribbons which only emphasized the gray in her hair
and wrinkles creasing her skin.

It would be difficult to find more unflattering attire.

Helen’s fingers itched to grab the nasty cap and at the very
least, remove the dreadful ribbons. Unfortunately, she could not
think of a single way to persuade Miss Leigh that a lady’s maid
might be useful to her, without sounding as if she thought the
woman was in desperate need of her services — even if it were
appallingly true.

Resolutely clasping her hands in front of her, Helen said, “I’m
terribly sorry if we’ve come at an inconvenient time, Miss Leigh.
But we understood that the earl’s man of business, or his lawyer
—”

“Yes, yes,” Miss Leigh cut off Helen’s stumbling words. Staring
over Helen’s shoulder, she eyed Hugh. “You look very familiar. Have
I seen you before? In Newport, perhaps?”

“Could be, ma’am.” His large hands squashed the brim of the hat
he had removed when they’d entered Miss Leigh’s office. “I’ve
relatives in these parts. As they say, the previous Earl was known
to get around a bit, eh?”

“Oh?” Miss Leigh’s brown eyes, magnified by her glasses, grew
even larger. Her lined cheeks flushed. “Oh, well, I see.” She
cleared her throat and scowled at the trio.

Helen peeped through her lashes at Hugh. Did he realize that he
had just implied he was related to the earl’s family on the wrong
side of the blanket? When she caught his gaze, the cynical smile on
his lips told her that he was entirely aware of the implications.
Helen glanced away, barely keeping a blush from her own cheeks.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied meekly enough.

“Well, that sort of thing isn’t discussed in
this
house,
nor should you expect any special treatment because of it. You’d
best understand that from the start. I told the earl we had no need
of a house steward or any additional servants, but ….” She stopped,
clamping her mouth shut as if realizing she was about to criticize
the man she depended upon for her room and board. “Mr. Symes and I
will review your duties with you this afternoon.”

Helen tensed, waiting for Hugh’s reply. A house steward was
above the butler in rank and would not expect the butler to discuss
his duties with him. But perhaps Hugh did not realize this, since
he was not, in truth, a house steward. He may never have visited an
establishment that employed one, either.

“Will I take my orders from the earl?” Hugh asked in his calm,
deep voice.

Miss Leigh grew rigid, staring at him. “The earl? No. That is,
he is not at home. However, when he returns he will inform you if
he wishes to give you orders directly. Or, he may request that I
convey your orders to you.”

He bowed slightly. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Well. Um. Go to your rooms and unpack. The house steward’s
quarters are at the back of the house. Mr. Symes will show you the
way. And Mr. — um — Caswell,” she added in a sharper voice. “You
will attend to your appearance and shave. We do not employ ruffians
at Ormsby.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Leigh, but I’ve a skin condition and
deformation of the chin that prevents me from shaving. You’ll be
happier, I’m bound, if I leave my beard to grow and keep it trimmed
to a sensible length.”

“Keep it cut, then. You look like a savage Viking about to
murder us all in our beds.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now,
you
,” she said, staring at Helen. “You will have
the room next to mine, I suppose. I’ve never used that dressing
room, never had any need for it. It’s so poorly ventilated and
small. So it will do well enough for you.” When Helen opened her
mouth, Miss Leigh cut her off. “You appear to be just the sort of
frippery girl incapable of performing even the simplest task. If
that is the case, you must make up your mind to leave as quickly as
you came. Don’t expect to have an easy job. I am a very busy woman.
The earl relies on me to handle a great deal, and if I must have a
maid, then she will work to relieve me of my lesser chores. Can you
mend?”

“Yes —” Helen tried to answer, only to have Miss Leigh
continue.

“I assume, then, that you can manage hair? My hair is very fine
and soft. It requires a great deal of careful handling. We have
guests at the moment, so I must look my best.” She patted an errant
tangle of graying curls. The harsh light from the window made Helen
gape at her, wondering exactly how she defined “best.” But since
Miss Leigh continued with a long litany of questions she never
allowed Helen to answer, Helen avoided any unforgiveable
mistakes.

In fact, she never got a chance to speak again.

By the time Miss Leigh finished, Helen realized with dismay that
she might not have even five minutes alone to search for the
necklace.

What if it had already been found? Anyone could have located it.
The jewels may have already been broken up, sold ….

No.

She was not going to give up and crawl back to Oriana. Helen was
not a careless ninny unable to take care of a priceless heirloom.
She would find the necklace and hand it back to her sister with a
smile, and no-one would be the wiser.

“Well?” Miss Leigh asked, her tone peremptory. “Are you mute?
You have not answered a single question I’ve asked you.”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Leigh.” Helen thought furiously, but to
her horror, she had no idea what Miss Leigh’s last question had
been.

Hugh nodded and placed a large hand on Helen’s shoulder. “My
sister is as quiet as a church mouse. One of the qualities her
other ladies have appreciated.”

“When I ask a question, I expect an answer.”

“Oh, yes, Miss Leigh, most assuredly,” Helen stammered. “Perhaps
I should go up to your rooms now so I may become acquainted with
your wardrobe and help you to dress for dinner —” She stopped when
Miss Leigh frowned. “If there are rips or tears, I can mend them.
So this afternoon is not wasted.”

“Indeed.” Miss Leigh did not look mollified. “I will decide what
I wish to wear for dinner.”

“Certainly. I merely want to ensure all your dresses are at
their best.”

“I won’t tolerate snooping, either. Creeping about ….” She
gestured toward Hugh. “Your brother says you’re a mouse. You’d best
not act like one, getting into everything. That won’t be
tolerated.”

Apparently, a great many things Helen planned to do were not to
be tolerated.

“Oh, no, Miss Leigh. Of course not.”

“That’s it, then. I’m very busy, today. Very busy. We have a
great many guests and the earl has seen fit to leave it all up to
me while he goes sailing.” Miss Leigh shook her head, her hands
fidgeting with the writing material on her desk. “Even his brother
has left us, although
his
absence is certainly
understandable. He intends to join the church and has visited our
vicar for advice. However, that is none of your affair.” She raised
her voice, looking over Helen’s shoulder toward the door. “Mr.
Symes!
Mr. Symes
! Where is that man?”

“Miss Leigh?” Mr. Symes asked, opening the door and bowing.

“Mr. Symes, you will escort these
people
to their
quarters. This one —” she pointed at Helen, “—will be given my
dressing room. She will need a bed and chest. Send one of the
footmen up to assist her in obtaining suitable items from the
attic.”

“Yes, Miss.” He gestured toward the hallway, waiting for Helen,
Hugo and Ned to leave the room.

“One more thing, Helga,” Miss Leigh said.

“Helen, Miss.”

“Whatever your name is, I trust you have suitable clothing? That
dress is a trifle modish. I will not have a maid who is above
herself.”

“Yes, Miss,” Helen replied.

In truth, she had worn the plainest dress she had. She hated to
consider what Miss Leigh would think of her other garments. Since
lady’s maids were given the cast-offs from their employers, Helen
had not anticipated objections. She had intended to explain some of
her better garments as recent gifts. However, given Miss Leigh’s
deplorable dress, perhaps it was not surprising that she thought
Helen’s drab, dark blue dress too chic for a maid.

“And that child —” She pointed at Ned. “We’ve no extra room for
him.”

Helen wrapped an arm over Ned’s shoulders and pulled him
tighter. The air thinned to nothing around them. They could not
send Ned away. What would happen to him? She glanced at Hugh.

He coughed into his fist and shifted his feet. “Excuse me,
ma’am, but my brother can sleep in my room. If you don’t mind,” he
added belatedly when Miss Leigh’s eyes hardened.

“We’ve no need of him.”

“An odd-job boy is always useful. Mr. Petre indicated the earl
decided to hire three. If he didn’t take to Ned, he would hire
another. And this way, the lad can share my room.”

“He would share your room whether he’s your brother or not, if
the earl wished it!” Anger shook her words like pebbles in a
rattle.

“Of course.” Hugh said.

Miss Leigh stared at him a moment longer, before nodding to Mr.
Symes.

“I’ll escort Mr. Caswell to the steward’s quarters.” The butler
stepped aside and waved for them to precede him. After they left,
he carefully shut the door. He stood still, looked around the
hallway and gestured to a tall footman leaning against the wall
near the front door. Rocking from his heels onto the balls of his
feet, the butler waited in silence until the footman sauntered
over. “You, Frank, will escort Miss Leigh’s maid to the attic,
where you shall obtain a bed, a chest and a chair. These will be
placed in Miss Leigh’s dressing room. When I have finished
escorting our steward to his quarters, I will send a maid to Miss
Leigh’s room with bedding.”

“Thank you, Mr. Symes,” Helen replied meekly, nervous about
leaving Hugh’s large and comforting presence.

Hugh winked at her over the butler’s shoulder. Then he gripped
Ned by the neck, thrust him forward, and ambled after Mr.
Symes.

Watching them leave, Helen felt another stab of trepidation. She
could not manage this alone, facing the prospect of spending the
night in a stuffy little room with Miss Leigh snoring just a few
feet away. She had been feather-witted to think she could come here
and find the Peckham Necklace in the wink of an eye.

Servants had undoubtedly cleaned the house since the ball.
Anything found would either have been reported or hidden away. Why
had she thought she could manage this?

But it would be spiritless to give up now.

And despite Miss Leigh’s hard exterior, Helen felt sorry for the
spinster. She knew only too well how people judged women by their
appearance. Helen was fortunate. She had a flair for dressing which
convinced most acquaintances that she was pretty, when in truth,
she was merely a plain, insipid blonde. What people mistook for
beauty consisted mostly of well-placed lace and flattering
ribbons.

If Miss Leigh had been lucky enough to have an eye for color and
detail, she might have been a handsome woman. She might have
married and have had her own children to fret over, instead of
fussing over her nephew’s guests.

No wonder she seemed so sad and bitter.

In a spurt of fatalistic determination, Helen decided to make
Miss Leigh her project while she searched for the necklace. She
would make Miss Leigh realize how attractive a mature spinster
could be, given the proper materials.

Someone deserved to be happy, even if it was not destined to be
Helen.

“
Carefully avoid all reproachful, indecent, or even familiar
terms in speaking of your master ….” —
The Complete
Servant

That went well
, Hugh thought as he followed the butler
through the servants’ door, Ned trailing dejectedly in their wake.
They climbed the narrow, twisting staircase which led from just
outside the kitchen to the third floor. Mr. Symes escorted them to
a tiny corner room occupying one of the turrets.

Hugh glanced around. He had forgotten the towers even had rooms.
They were rarely used, being small and ill-lit by the slit-like
windows, but this one had a relatively large bed with an additional
trundle bed peeking out from underneath it, a plain maple desk, a
chair and a wardrobe. If he overlooked the dust and cobwebs
decorating the legs of the desk, it would be quite serviceable.

“This is your room.” Mr. Symes clasped his hands at his waist,
as if afraid he might get his white gloves dirty by accidentally
touching something.

It was a perfectly justified fear.

“Send up a maid, will you? To give it a good dusting. And air
the bed. Better yet, change the linens on it. It looks damp. Good
thing Mr. Petre found me, isn’t it? To manage things when the earl
is not in residence. Like now.” Hugh flicked a finger over the dark
green coverlet. A small maelstrom of dust arose and sparkled
through the air before settling down again on the bed.

Although Mr. Symes’ face remained bland, his eyes flickered,
betraying his annoyance. But he could only acquiesce. The house
steward was the earl’s
locum tenens
and acted for him to
superintend servants of all ranks. The butler took orders from him,
not vice versa.

Mr. Symes knew it, even if he probably disliked the change in
the balance of power within the ranks of the servants.

“Do you need anything else?” Mr. Symes asked. His knuckles
gleamed white.

“Yes. I’ll need to see my office.”

“But —”

“I’m sure the room you’ve used until now will do,” Hugh said
lightly. “There must be another room somewhere you can use.”