The Diary of Cozette (27 page)

I fear things are getting worse between my master and mistress. Mrs. Farrington and I have devised a plan to lift my mistress’s spirits. I will write more when I can.

~A.C.B.

My mistress has been in a state of ill health these past weeks. Though she claims it is a fever and chills, I have my suspicions it has more to do with the continued decline of her marriage. I cannot determine for what earthly reason my mistress married such a man. Oh, that my thoughts were made open, I would most assuredly be dismissed were Mrs. Farrington to discover them. However, in truth, when it comes to Mr. Archibald these days, none of us speak of him. I am certain that it is a marriage of arrangement, perhaps business or otherwise, but a month’s pay placed as wager leads me to believe that it was not for either passion or love.

To my complete amazement, he continues to sleep in the guest room across the hall. Of course, their prior arrangement was not far different since they shared a common room, but two beds. A sorry state of affairs, I would think for a successful marriage bed.

Of course, it is an unspoken assumption that we are not to speak of the picnic, or the “incident” concerning my former friend, Betsy. It only serves to remind the mistress of the unfortunate tragedy that followed.

Despite the tension that hovers like a ghost over the house, haunting the rooms that once held my mistress’s bright spirit, Mrs. Farrington and I agreed to decorate the house for the holidays in the way the mistress is fond of, hoping it will lift her spirits. For now, we await her word on any possible holiday gatherings at the manor.

Today as Mrs. Farrington and I continued with our festive decorating, we heard the master making yet another plea to his wife behind her closed door.

“My dear, it’s the holidays, the twelve days before Christmas. Surely you’ll want to have your annual tea for the Ladies Society?”

I glanced at Mrs. Farrington from the balustrade at the top of the stairs. Master Archibald was to leave on a short business trip today and his requests were falling on deaf ears once again.

Mistress Archibald’s answer was indiscernible behind the closed and bolted door. She’d entrusted me with charge of the only key, coupled with her fervent request that I not relinquish it to the master for any reason.

I pulled gently on the evergreen roping that together Mrs. Farrington and I were draping up the stairway railing. “I have to retrieve something from my quarters. If asked, please do not tell the master where I am. I promise to explain.”

She eyed me with a steady gaze and nodded toward the servants’ stairs.

“Mrs. Farrington, where is Miss Cozette?” His voice boomed from the open hall above, urging my footsteps faster down the back steps.

Keeping careful not to make a sound, I tiptoed across the brick kitchen tile and eased open the back door, thinking to hide out in the barn until Master Archibald left. Instead, I ran headlong into Mr. Jensen’s chest as I stepped out into the late, gray December afternoon.

“Whoa, now Miss Cozette, where are ye sneakin’ away to—” he eyed me speculatively “—or from?”

He grabbed my shoulders and smiled down at me. Up to this moment, I’d had very little contact with Jensen. He kept to himself in the small room off the stable and with few exceptions rarely came to the house. He was, I hoped, a reasonable man, who would not require lengthy explanations.

“Mr. Jensen, I need to ask that you trust me and require nothing more from me at this time.” I searched his face, weathered tan with countless hours in the sun, but a handsome man of Gaelic origin. I thought how he might look were he clean-shaven. His dark brows were thick over gentle blue eyes and his smile even. His only vice was the pipe that clung constantly between his teeth.

“How old are you, Mr. Jensen?” I was truly curious, though not in an intimate way of course.

“Now why would a child such as you be interested in such a thing?”

My brow rose indignant that he thought me as innocent as all that.

“I am no child, Mr. Jensen, and well aware of the ways of the world, if you must know.”

“Are ye now?”

He dropped his hands away and stepped aside to allow me passage.

“So you’re sneakin’ out to see yer true love, then?”

His blue eyes twinkled.

The chill of the December afternoon began to seep into my bones. “No sir, but I would like to ask your word that you tell no one, even Master Archibald, that you’ve seen me today.”

His gaze narrowed on mine and after a moment, to my surprise, he nodded. I glanced over my shoulder, listening for my master’s footsteps. Unable to entertain the reasons Mr. Jensen would so readily comply, I was still hopeful he would stand true to his word.

“Miss Cozette!”

Master Archibald’s voice rang from inside the first floor of the house.

“Quick, to the arbor. There’s a cellar door, stay there until he’s gone.”

He pushed me toward the corner of the house and I scurried across the crunch of the grass stiff already with frost. There would surely be snow before morning.

“Jensen, I wish to speak with you.”

My master’s voice had the compelling tone of authority. I dare say his employees beneath him quaked in their boots when called by name.

“Ah, good day to ye, sir, I was just comin’ to tell ye that the team’s ready to take you to town. I’ll just be bringin’ them ’round front if you’re ready, then? By the looks of things, we shouldn’t tarry, were I a bettin’ man, I’d venture there’s a good chance for snow by nightfall.”

The frigid stone at my back stuck fast to my uniform as I pressed against the corner of the house. I could see my frozen breath in the dusky twilight.

“I’ll be along straightaway, Mr. Jensen. Just a few minor details to take care of,” he huffed. “By the way, have you seen Miss Cozette? I was thinking perhaps she was down at the stables.”

“Out here? Why, no sir, with the weather being as cold as this, I’d think she would have better sense to stay indoors where it was warm. A fragile woman out here could catch pneumonia faster than I can shoe a horse.”

“Indeed.”

I glanced to my right, seeing in the shadows the slanted door jutting up from beneath the house. Holding my breath, I inched along the wall, my fingers turning numb from the cold. The crunch of gravel caught my attention and I looked up in time to see Mr. Coven in full stride coming up the kitchen path from the stables, dressed snug in a brown wool jacket. His long legs were encased in his black riding pants and black boots and at his neck was a cream-colored knit scarf that made me curious as to its maker. His dark hair captured in the scarf blew haphazardly around his fierce expression. Some days I imagined him as a warrior of old, a noble knight perhaps, alone on his quest, fiercely loyal to no one but his king. He saw me and he slowed.

I thought I might faint from the racing of my heart, nigh inside my throat by now. Hoping he saw me clear enough, I waved him away, and shook my head, hoping he would comply with my silent request.

His stride resumed, though I could see he was assessing the situation with caution.

“Mr. Coven,” our master called. I heard the crunch of brittle grass underfoot and crept farther into the shadow of the arbor. A sneeze perpetuated by a shiver across my shoulders, threatened to give away my hiding place. I pinched my nose at the bridge, hoping to dissuade the noise.

“Did you see Miss Cozette, down in the stables?” Master Archibald stood not more than a few feet from me, his back turned. All he needed do was turn and we would be face-to-face.

Mr. Coven glanced at me, over the master’s shoulder as if pondering both requests, his master’s and mine.

“No sir, I haven’t seen the little scamp since…yesterday, I believe it was. I had to shoo her out of the stables, she was
annoying
me at my work.”

Master Archibald let out an audible sigh. “She does have that ability. Well, I suppose there’s not much more that can be done. Are you accompanying Mr. Jensen this afternoon, Mr. Coven?”

“If you’d like, sir, I’d be happy to. However, I was just making my way to the house to visit with Miss Farrington. She mentioned something about needing a tree for the parlor.”

“Perhaps she will have better luck than I. Very well, please see to Miss Farrington’s request.”

Thankfully, he turned toward the house, but my heart nearly stopped when I saw the scowl on his profile. For a heartbeat, I thought he was about to turn on his heel and take the arbor path to the front of the house.

“Master Archibald, may I advise you get to your carriage by way of the front door. I saw a nasty mud hole on the arbor path earlier. I need to see to it that I place more stone there. I wouldn’t want to see you ruin the finish on your shoes. Besides, I wanted to tell you that I think we’ll have with any hope, at least three new foals by spring.”

Mr. Coven ushered Master Archibald through the back kitchen door.

At last, I chanced to breathe. Every part of me from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes had little sensation due to the cold. Determined to make my way back through the house by way of the cellar door, I stepped along the path toward its safe haven, unaware until too late of the gaping mud hole in the path.

I heard Jensen call to the team as my ankle gave way and I landed with a thud on my backside with my foot at an odd angle beneath me. The pain too quickly evolved to the cold dampness soaking through my skirts.

The damn mud hole that Mr. Coven spoke of was indeed real.

I struggled to stand, gravel digging into my palms, but my ankle would not support me.

A few moments passed as I finally realized that either I would freeze to death or I would have to crawl back to the house. The sky, once a charcoal gray was now fully deep into nightfall and the temperature had dropped at a considerable rate.

“You’ll most likely catch your death of cold out here, Miss Cozette. Go inside and sit by the fire.”

Mr. Coven’s voice emitted through the inky darkness. My frozen gaze lifted to his glittering eye in the spackled shadows of the arbor. I tried to speak, through my chattering teeth. “I w-would l-like n-nothing more, M-Mr. C-Coven, but as you c-can p-p-plainly see, I am unable t-t-to st-stand.”

He made no sound as he slipped his arms beneath me and lifted me like a rag doll from the mud.

“Didn’t you hear me tell Master Archibald about the hole?”

I nodded, my thoughts not pushing past my frozen blue lips in wanting to say I thought it was a ruse to prevent his finding me.

His arms were firm, and instinct pressed me close to the warmth of his coat, tucking my face beneath his chin to protect my face against the bitter cold. I sensed the rapid beat of his heart even through the many layers between us and I could not explain why I felt so safe in his arms.

He kicked open the back door and carried me into the servants’ hall at the back of the kitchen. Without a word, he placed me in a straight-back chair, facing a roaring fire in the open hearth.

In the intense heat of the blaze, my flesh began to thaw even as Mrs. Farrington came rushing in, grabbing a shawl from the back of the door and tossing it around my shoulders.

“Child, what on earth were you thinking?”

I glanced up at her, though I hoped I wouldn’t have to explain, especially in front of Mr. Coven. If my mistress had not made the rest of the staff privy to her request then she surely had her reasons, and I would not override them. “I was searching the g-gardens for my hair comb. I l-lost it earlier th-this afternoon.”

Mr. Coven, who knelt stoking the fire, glanced over his shoulder and said nothing, but went back to his work.

“You aren’t sensible at times, Cozette. You could have easily developed a chill or worse had Mr. Coven not found you. Look, your clothes are ruined, silly girl, what would possess you…”

She knelt at my feet and slipped off my shoes, wrapping her hands around them. “I’ll go get the kettle and we’ll soak your feet.”

Mrs. Farrington stood and tapped Mr. Coven on the shoulder.

“Here now, I need you to keep her feet warm in your hands while I fetch the hot water.”

He pivoted on his knees, none too happy I ventured by the look on his face to do as Mrs. Farrington bid. He wrapped his large, callused hands around my feet, capturing them securely between his palms. I drew the shawl closer around my shoulders, hugging it to me, keeping my eyes intent on the fire, even as I sensed him watching me. We did not share conversation. I was grateful that Mrs. Farrington was not slow in her task.

“There now, thank you Mr. Coven, for everything. I am sorry for your trouble.” She lugged a large shallow tin pan in and placed it at my feet.

I gasped as she lowered my chilled feet into the water’s warmth.

As I am grateful, Mr. Coven.
Holding my tongue, for my teeth still chattered, I watched him open the back door without a response, slamming it shut. I drew the blanket around me tighter, my focus on the blazing fire in front of me. He was gone only a few moments before he returned with another armload of wood.

“This should do through the night, Mrs. Farrington. Please see to it that Mrs. Archibald’s fire is well prepared for the evening. There will be snow by morning. I’ll be sure that you have another load at the back of the house for tomorrow. She shouldn’t get chilled.”

“Th-that’s k-kind of you, Mr. C-Coven,” I replied through the chattering of my teeth.

“My concern is for the mistress.”

His gaze held mine and I swallowed back the mixture of hurt and humiliation causing my cheeks to warm.

“Thank you, Mr. Coven, I’m sure the mistress is grateful for the welcome warmth, even as is our thoughtless Cozette.”

I kept my eyes on the fire. His attitude toward me had been quite cold for some time, yet between his work and mine so focused on the mistress, we had not yet resolved the awkward air betwixt us.

“My pleasure,” he responded curtly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, with Jensen absent, I must see the horses are settled for the night.”

He got to the door before Mrs. Farrington slapped my knee, sending a rush of tingles cascading down my calf. I realized she wanted me to thank Mr. Coven for his noble behavior. Indeed, as if I hadn’t already been thinking of a way to do just that. He was now every bit a part of the ruse and I was most anxious to find out why he complied. Perhaps he knew more about Master Archibald that would be of value to helping my mistress. Just the same, I needed to appease Mrs. Farrington’s infernal rules on protocol, which I was finding, in particular with visits from her dear seafaring husband, at best selective.