Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls - Book 3) (3 page)

Beth’s smiled dimmed as she returned to her needlework. “She was wonderful.”

“Tobias says much the same,” Lady Venables murmured. “Mercy, when will you send invitations for the wedding?”

Beth’s attention was drawn to the mantel clock and she counted the minutes since their arrival. Although she strained to hear, she detected no sound of approaching servants. That could only be in her favor.

The duchess groaned. “Very soon. It all depends, of course, on securing a reliable and efficient housekeeper. I cannot invite anyone without filling the position.”

The sisters exchanged a look full of understanding and Beth dropped her gaze to her work, stomach churning into knots. If all went well, she hoped she would be the housekeeper of Romsey when the wedding date came around.

The countess stood suddenly and jerked the bell repeatedly. “Have you had any likely candidates for the position yet?”

“A few.” Her Grace let out an undignified huff and flopped back into her chair. “It seems finding just the right person on short notice was an impossible dream. Everyone we have interviewed has not suited my needs. If not for Mrs. Turner’s assistance these past weeks, I am sure the abbey would have fallen into complete disarray.”

Beth steadied her nerves. She shouldn’t be ecstatic that the tea was so late in arriving, but that did work in her favor. This lapse could only strengthen the proposition she would make to the duchess about the housekeeper’s role. The new servants were still finding their feet and required someone competent to guide them.

So far, Beth had enjoyed the challenges she’d met assisting the duchess in running the abbey. She would like to continue on a permanent basis. Beth set her needlework aside, heart beating faster. “Thank you, Your Grace. Perhaps I can offer a suggestion with regard to the vacant housekeeper position.”

The duchess met her gaze directly, appearing eager to have all her problems solved with as little disruption to her life as possible. “You have my complete attention, my dear,” she said.

“I should like to suggest myself as the new housekeeper of Romsey Abbey,” Beth said boldly, hoping she was not about to be laughed at.

The duchess’s mouth fell open. Silence held for a long, anxious moment. “Absolutely not,” she cried out eventually.

“No. Never.” Lady Venables agreed. “The situation is not so desperate as all that.”

Beth clenched her hands together. “I have been giving the matter a good deal of thought and it seems the perfect solution to all our problems. The duchess requires a competent woman to run her house and servants and I need the security of a secure position for my son. Surely you can see the sense of it. Small matters, such as delivering tea after dinner, are a regular part of your routine and there is no reason for mistakes of that kind.”

The duchess closed her eyes. “I see the sense in having a woman I trust run my house. However, if you were to assume such a position then your circumstances and status would change considerably.”

Beth frowned, confused. “You are pleased with my assistance so far, yet you do not wish me to continue?”

Lady Venables moved to sit at Beth’s side. “What my sister is trying, and failing, to delicately point out is that if you became housekeeper of Romsey you could not sit with us in the evenings.”

“Or participate in outings with Edwin,” the duchess added urgently, as if that loss was the ultimate horror. “You would have to stay behind when we go to London next season and could not enjoy the company of the guests invited for the wedding.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but you forget that I have not lived in luxury my whole life. In fact, living here is as idle as I have ever been. It is true that the few outings with the young duke have been enjoyable treats. My son, George, has also relished the additional comforts afforded living here, particularly the library. But I’m sure you can understand my anxiety that my arrangement with Lady Venables is coming to an end.” Beth smiled a little sadly. “I don’t imagine Lady Venables will need my company once she becomes Mrs. Tobias Randall and moves to Harrowdale.”

The one thing Beth wanted in particular was to be settled with the security of a stable position and roof over her son’s head. She most certainly didn’t want to be a burden or in the way of a pair of ardent newlyweds.

Her employer had the grace to appear a little guilty. “Mercy and I have been discussing what’s best to do for you, too.”

Panic threatened. Had they decided she was no longer needed already? Beth pressed her knees together and folded George’s shirt over them, desperately trying to control her fear. Securing another position, particularly during the winter months, would be difficult in the extreme. She had not saved nearly enough funds to stand on her own two feet again and there was George to consider, too. She needed the housekeeper position to support her small family.

“If you feel the position is beyond my abilities, I assure you I would seek Mrs. Finch’s advice when needed,” she added quickly. Lady Venables housekeeper, Mrs. Finch, had been managing both Romsey Abbey and the smaller estate of Harrowdale without complaint since the previous housekeeper had fled into the night along with half the indoor staff last month.

But of late, Mrs. Finch had mentioned a growing tiredness and pain in her knees. She shouldn’t be asked to continue for much longer at Romsey with its many stairs. The smaller house at Harrowdale suited her age and stamina far better. Beth was still young and the stairs didn’t bother her. She would work hard to become worthy of the position, but she had to convince the duchess to let her try, first.

“I’ll need to think about it,” Her Grace murmured, “and discuss the matter with Leopold at length.”

Beth gripped the shirt. “Of course.”

The clock chimed the hour and Beth risked a quick glance at it again. It really was getting late for the tea to arrive. George would be already tucked up in bed, waiting for her to say goodnight, if he hadn’t fallen asleep already. “If I may suggest, I should like to pay a visit to the kitchens to determine what the delay may be.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Turner,” Lady Venables agreed with a warmer smile. “That would be much appreciated. I cannot imagine what could be keeping them.”

Beth stood on shaky legs and quickly dipped a curtsy. “I will be back in a moment.”

The duchess held up her hand. “After you have sorted out the kitchen and staff, we will completely understand if you would prefer to retire so you may say goodnight to your son. Do not feel compelled to return if you would rather stay with him.”

Beth glanced between the two ladies but could not determine if she was being shown a kindness or being sent away so they could talk about her when she was gone. In the end, she chose to believe it was from kindness. “If you no longer need me, I should like that very much.”

Lady Venables waved her toward the door. “How many times must I mention that your duties were not so rigid that you could not slip upstairs without waiting for permission? Go and tuck George into bed. We’ll see you at breakfast as usual, but remember tomorrow is your morning off.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Beth curtsied again. “Goodnight, Your Grace.”

Lady Venables smiled fondly. “Goodnight, Mrs. Turner.”

“Sleep well,” Her Grace added.

Beth scurried for the doors and pulled them closed behind her. As they clicked shut, she clearly heard the duchess exclaim. “Well, how was I supposed to answer her? The discussion was completely intolerable.”

Beth’s heart sank. She’d overstepped with her offer but it was done now. If the duchess refused, she didn’t know what the future would hold. She hurried for the kitchens, chastised a maid who had delayed the footman with her flirtations, and saw that the tea tray was properly prepared and sent up. Then, with no other demands on her time save her worries, she trudged up the long flights of stairs, through deserted corridors, and stepped into the pair of rooms she shared with her son.

The pretty bedchamber did nothing to ease her nerves. She’d known from the start that she was being granted a boon larger than she deserved when Lady Venables had employed her as a companion. Her duties to the countess had been hardly taxing on her abilities and she’d thought herself better suited to the housekeeper role. Clearly the duchess hadn’t agreed with her assessment.

She slipped into the smaller adjoining chamber and leaned against the doorframe to observe her son. His dark head was bowed over yet another book from the Romsey library and he didn’t notice her at first. A wave of sadness flooded her. Being in service of any kind at Romsey Abbey had proved a very good circumstance for him. The duchess and Leopold Randall treated him very kindly and encouraged him to borrow whatever books they agreed were appropriate reading material for his age. The promised tutor had not been found as yet, but Beth had never pinned her hopes on that extravagance. “Is it not too late to be reading, George?”

His head rose quickly, an expression of guilt crossing his face. “Is it bedtime already?”

Beth walked forward and tousled his hair. “It’s one quarter after ten o’clock. You should have been asleep long ago.”

He grinned. “The story was too exciting to stop.”

“That is what you always say.”

He marked his place with a scrap of parchment and closed the book. “What shall we do tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure.” She picked up her son’s hand and squeezed. “I had the opportunity to speak to the duchess about the position of housekeeper tonight.”

George came up on his knees, his face keen with anticipation. “What did she say?”

“She said she’d think about it.”

George nodded slowly. “She will choose you. I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you, George. Let’s hope you’re right.”

George fell back against the mattress. “She has to choose you. I never want to leave Romsey.”

Beth laughed. “You only say that because you are young and easily impressed. When you’re older, you’ll want to have an adventure or two to brag about.”

A frown clouded his features. “Do you think my Uncle Henry is happy on his adventure in America?”

“Goodness, why ever would you think of him now?” Beth placed the repaired shirt into a drawer and picked up George’s soiled garments, which he’d tossed carelessly aside. “He’s been gone such a long time now that I wonder if he’ll ever return.”

“Papa said Uncle Henry went to America to make his fortune. I hope we hear from him soon.”

Her brother-in-law had traveled to the Americas quite a number of years ago, but she’d not heard from him since. She forced a hopeful smile to her face. “I do, too. Sadly we will never know unless he writes to tell us where he is.”

“Will he be able to find us here by letter?”

Beth nodded. “Everyone in the village knows where we are. Someone will pass any news along.”

“Good.” He pulled the covers over his head and burrowed under their comforting weight. At least here they were at no risk of being cold. The countess had given them every comfort they could ever need. Beth pulled the covers back and straightened the bedding around him. It was so good to have enough blankets to wrap around her child on chilly nights.

George smiled up at her with drowsy, contented eyes. “Goodnight, Mama. Sleep well.”

“I will. Sweet dreams, Georgie.”

George made a face at the nickname and then closed his eyes. Beth extinguished the lamp and returned to her own chamber. Once there, she sat at the writing desk and withdrew a half-written piece of paper to make notes of chores she’d discovered needed attention soon. When she was housekeeper, her gift to the newlyweds for their kindness would be to see that every part of Romsey was made presentable for the wedding.

Chapter Three

“THERE SURELY CAN be no finer view in all of England.”

Oliver ignored his brother’s ardent remark on the landscape as he trudged to the hilltop and surveyed the browning fields of the Romsey estate. A winter chill was nipping at his lungs as he caught his breath, making them burn with the effect of the climb. “It is the same view we had as boys, Leopold.”

The first falls of snow were due any day. Time was running out to make his trip across the channel pleasant. He ran over the things he had to do before he could leave England behind. The most pressing was still regaining his health and the walk, culminating in a climb up the hill today, proved he still had a goodly way to go.

His brother grinned, wagging his finger to and fro. “Yes, but the difference is now we may walk anywhere we like without a word said against us. No more sneaking around to avoid detection.”

Oliver brushed away the film of sweat from his upper lip and leaned against the support of a crumbling dry-stone wall. The exertion of the climb had left him quite breathless. “You are far too easy to please. Would that these were the hills above Napoli and I could be content to admire them forever.”

“You’ll get there soon enough,” Leopold murmured. “Patience.”

“I’ve been patient enough.” Oliver looked out over the fields, reluctantly admiring the precision of the ducal estate. The procession of field, gate, and plotted tree reminded him of his brief venture into the study of garden landscapes during his youth. As much as he didn’t find the day-to-day affairs of the estate interesting, there was a certain beauty in its artificial design. Even the workers, black dots from his vantage point, moved in a soothing rhythm. A pair of shepherds and a hound herded sheep, two figures of disproportionate size traveled along the abbey drive, making slow progress as the smaller one darted from the path constantly. Another group clustered around a fallen dry-stone wall like the one he leaned against, correcting the imperfection. Everyone and everything within his view had a place in the grand design.