Mutual Consent (11 page)

Babs knew very well that the earl kept a mistress. She had seen the missive that first evening, and she had since caught part of the maids’ conversation while they were cleaning the upper drawing room. It had been quite clear that Lord Chatworth enjoyed the ministrations of a “high flyer,” as one of the maids had put it, and had in the past often entertained ladies in his own home.

Babs’ eyes narrowed at the last thought. She might trespass the sweeping terms of their agreement as well. She had no right to interfere with the earl’s amorous adventures outside the house, but she was damned if she would welcome his lightskirts into her home. The vigor of her feelings astonished her. She had not realized before how strongly she felt about the validity of her position as the Countess of Chatworth.

The household fell quite naturally into a pattern. Each evening the earl dined with his new bride before going out to keep his several engagements. Barbara was left to amuse herself as best she could, and truthfully she had no real desire to accompany his lordship. She was still settling into the oddity of her new position, feeling her way, becoming accustomed to the earl’s likes and dislikes, the tempo of the house.

Quietly she observed how the servants did their work. At separate times she talked with the cook, the housekeeper, and the butler. She discovered nothing lacking in the respect or the willingness of the cook and the butler or those under them to accept her orders.

However, the housekeeper was an entirely different matter. Mrs. Sparrow was a large woman whose small hard eyes, hard expression, and girth were all used to intimidate those beneath her. She was efficient in her position and most of the housemaids ran in terror of her.

Besides her obvious unfriendliness of disposition, Mrs. Sparrow had definite ideas of class and quality. The new Countess of Chatworth, to her mind, was not worthy of the exalted position in which she had been placed. The housekeeper held forth to her underlings that her ladyship was an upstart. Mrs. Sparrow allowed that her ladyship had been as clever as she could hold together to have ensnared his lordship, who was known to have an eye for a pretty face and trim waist, but until the earl had committed the folly of wedding this latest of his several flirts, Mrs. Sparrow had quite believed his lordship quick-witted enough to spot a honey trap in whatever guise it was offered.

Babs recognized the housekeeper’s thinly disguised contempt. She waited to see if Mrs. Sparrow’s disapproval would extend to disregarding her orders or otherwise fomenting rebellion among others in the household. Mrs. Sparrow did not disappoint her. Despite the several talks that she had had with the woman, the housekeeper did not mend her manners.

The last straw for Babs was to be told point-blank to her face that her orders must be laid before the earl before any action could be taken, and that by a pert upstairs maid.

Barbara had had enough. She had tried to reach across the natural resentment that the housekeeper must feel in having another woman take precedence over her own ruling of the household. She had tried to establish a relationship with Mrs. Sparrow that would preclude upsetting the household. But when it came down to having a housemaid refuse her quiet order because the girl was certain of Mrs. Sparrow’s approval in such action, the countess decided that it was time to cut her losses.

And a loss it would be, she thought as she sent down a request for Mrs. Sparrow to wait upon her in her sitting room. Whatever else she might be, termagant and shrew and snob, Mrs. Sparrow was an excellent housekeeper.

The interview was not pleasant. Mrs. Sparrow was enraged that the upstart countess was giving her marching orders. “We shall soon see about this, mistress. I’ll warrant that his lordship will be in a rare taking when I tell him about this insult,” raged the woman.

The countess coolly informed her that the earl had given herself full sway over the household and that it would not help her case if she chose to burst upon him with this particular domestic matter. “In fact, I should have to rescind the recommendation that his lordship was good enough to give you, Mrs. Sparrow,” she said, holding up a folded sheet. She had actually penned it herself and had had the secretary get the earl’s seal upon it, but Mrs. Sparrow did not need to know that. She stared the woman down.

Her cool composure finally convinced Mrs. Sparrow that indeed she had no recourse. The ertswhile housekeeper left on the spot, in possession of her hard expression, her recommendation to another post, her belongings, and her back wages. Quickly following her exit were two housemaids who had been the housekeeper’s worst cronies.

The rest of the household was left in a decided stir. In quite a decisive fashion, the new countess had demonstrated her power and firmly established her position. Barbara felt immediately the change in atmosphere when she came into contact with one of the remaining maids. There was more respect and civility than before, and she felt quite triumphant that she had finally won peace in her household.

She thought she should not let it come as a surprise to the earl that Mrs. Sparrow was no longer with them, and she decided to tell him that same morning a somewhat abridged version of what had been taking place with the domestic situation. She did not think that gentlemen greatly cared for the details of such things, but only for the reassurance that their own comforts would continue without interruption. She also wished to ask his lordship for his permission to borrow the services of his secretary, Hobbs, in the necessary inquiries at the various registries in the hiring of a new housekeeper and maids.

Still flushed with her victory, Babs started downstairs to seek out her husband.

The Earl of Chatworth flipped through the morning’s post. He abruptly paused and lifted one of the letters free from the rest. He glanced up at his secretary. “That will be all for the moment, Hobbs.” The secretary bowed, but already he was forgotten by the earl. Lord Chatworth slit open the envelope with a long silver knife and removed the letter.

The secretary quietly closed the door behind him. As he turned away from the study, he was greeted by Lady Chatworth. “Is his lordship in his study?” she asked, smiling.

“Yes, my lady,” Hobbs said, bowing. He was not unfamiliar with his master’s moods and he hesitated to send her ladyship into the lion’s den. “However...”

Babs did not heed the secretary’s demur, but turned the knob and went on into the study. Closing the door, she saw that the earl stood at the window in silhouette, one hand on the draperies. “My lord, good morning.”

He turned and the sun slanted across his face. Babs saw the temper in his eyes. The words dried on her tongue. She felt her own facial muscles tense. It was her experience that only a communication from her father could bring such an expression to the earl’s face. “What is it?” she asked in a low voice.

“It is of nothing to concern you, my lady,” said Lord Chatworth in repressive dismissal.

“Of course it must concern me,” said Babs. “Anything regarding my father—”

Lord Chatworth laughed shortly, struck by the irony of it. “It is not your father, Babs, but my dear mother.”

Barbara grasped the back of a chair. She felt stunned. “Your mother, my lord? But I thought—that is, I assumed—” She stopped, quite incapable of finishing her sentence.

Lord Chatworth had no difficulty in following her. The expression in his eyes became quite bland. “The dowager Countess of Chatworth is very much alive, my lady. She has resided for some years at the family seat, not caring much for London or for society. I naturally wrote to her of our marriage, though I did not expect her to come to London for the wedding.”

“I see,” said Babs, beginning to feel the stirrings of anger. Her eyes were very bright. “When were you planning to inform me of her ladyship’s existence, my lord? Or were you not?”

Lord Chatworth frowned down at the letter that he still held in his hand. “I am in the habit of visiting my mother two or three times a year. I had not thought it necessary to bring you to her attention until we went down to the country for the summer. I had hoped . . . But it seems that her ladyship is taking matters into her own hands.” He looked over at his wife to gauge the effect of his announcement. “The dowager countess has written to inform me of her arrival in a fortnight. She has requested that I convey her regards to my new wife.”

Babs numbly sat down in the chair. She stared up at the earl, appalled. Her uppermost thought was that she had just sacked the housekeeper and some of the staff. There was no possible way that she could hire and train new servants and be ready in time for the dowager countess’s regal visit. For that was how she envisioned her mother-in-law: a formidable dame of repressive notions and high pride, one who had refused to come to London for her son’s wedding to a social nonentity.

“I trust that does not prove an inconvenience to you, my lady?”

There was a note of censure in Lord Chatworth’s voice that Babs was quick to hear. She marshaled her expression into one of smiling acquiescence. She could not possibly explain to him now what she had done with the staff. His lordship would only construe her explanation as complaint and incompetence. “How could it be that, Marcus? I shall be delighted to meet the dowager countess. When did you say that her ladyship will arrive?”

Lord Chatworth regarded her unsmilingly for a moment before he glanced briefly at the pertinent line of the letter. “On the fifteenth of the month. In less than two weeks.”

Babs rose, saying brightly as she did so, “Then I must certainly not waste a moment if we are to accord her ladyship the proper hospitality. There are entertainments to plan and-”

“It is not necessary to get up a round of entertainments. My mother dislikes nothing more than a press,” said Lord Chatworth, going to his desk.

Babs stood facing him, her hands held tight together before her. “I understand, of course. Then perhaps you will instruct me in how I am to go on to best please her ladyship.”

“Babs.” Lord Chatworth set aside the letter and looked over at her. “My mother is not an exacting woman. Quite the contrary, in fact. She prefers a well-ordered household and quiet pursuits. I ask only that her every comfort is seen to, which I am certain the housekeeper is perfectly capable of supplying. You need not put yourself out to any degree, I assure you. You may go on with your own pleasures quite unimpeded.”

“Thank you, my lord, for that most welcome reassurance,” said Babs, barely able to retain civility toward him. Apparently her control over her voice was not as complete as she had wished, for she saw surprise enter his eyes. She swept out of the study and crashed the door behind her.

Babs ran swiftly upstairs to her private sitting room. She paced the length of the room, fuming with anger. She had not been so humiliated since her comeout into society. She was furious with the Earl of Chatworth. He should have told her that his mother was still alive. It was her right to have known. She would have sent off a polite missive to the dowager countess upon first arriving at the town house as its new mistress. It was only the fitting thing to have done.

At this point in her angry reflection, Babs stopped short and stood quite still in the middle of the carpet. The dowager countess had not come to the wedding ceremony, even though the earl had written to her and even though her ladyship must have seen the notice in the
Gazette.
That was what truly bothered her, Babs thought with cringing hurt. The dowager countess had apparently so heartily disapproved of her son’s choice that she had refused to condone the marriage by her presence at the ceremony. And the message of disapproval had thus been broadcast to the world.

Babs felt the familiar feeling of inevitable disaster wash over her. It was bad enough that she must skirmish with the servants to prove herself mistress of the establishment, or that, whenever the Earl of Chatworth got around to insisting that she entertain, she must hold her head high even though she knew that there would be whispers behind her back and smiling malice to her face. Now she had learned that she possessed a starched-up, prideful mother-in-law who was not inclined to receive her with anything remotely resembling approval.

Babs could have screamed aloud with her vexation. Butshe would not go down without a fight, she thought grimly. She would do all in her power to win over the dowager countess. She thought over the little that the earl had imparted to her about his mother. It became obvious that the first priority was to discover and employ a new housekeeper who could be relied upon to see to the dowager countess’s every whim.

Babs was familiar with the tedious business of hiring servants, having observed her aunt do so on more man one occasion. But she could not afford the time that such a process normally took, not with her mother-in-law arriving in less than two weeks.

Babs decided that she could do worse than seek the counsel of her aunt. Lady Azaela might have a few worthwhile suggestions to offer. Babs gave a reluctant laugh. At the very least her aunt could offer her a shoulder to cry on, she thought wryly.

Babs pulled the bell rope, and when a servant answered the summons, she gave orders that a carriage be brought around to the front door and that her maid attend her at once. Barbara went to her bedroom, where the maid helped her out of her morning gown and into a walking pelisse with matching bonnet and lavender kid gloves. Then Babs tripped downstairs and out the door to the carriage. She gave directions for her aunt’s establishment before entering the carriage. The footman shut the carriage door and signaled to the driver. The carriage rolled away.

Lady Azaela chanced to be in and she was immediately sympathetic to her niece’s dilemma. She said that she had foreseen that something of the sort might happen, since the Earl of Chatworth’s house was that of a bachelor and unused to the guidance of a permanent mistress.

“Of course you must have the loyalty of your staff, which will naturally take their cue from the higher echelon of servants. I hope that the housekeeper was the only recalcitrant among the higher staff?” At Babs’ nod, Lady Azalea smiled. “As it happens, my own cook’s sister, who is visiting her at the moment, is looking for such a position. She appears to be a competent woman, and she has all the earmarks of a loyal and cheerful disposition.”