14

Emmie spent an instructive afternoon with Mrs. Cheviot. Not only did she get shown around the extensive kitchen but also the still room, the larder, and the cellars. After word was sent to Mr. Garraway, he appeared to decorously escort her around the butler’s pantry.

Both he and the housekeeper were most vexed that they could not locate a footman to show her the footman’s waiting room. “That Colfax,” Mrs. Cheviot tutted. “I might have known he was nowhere to be found. A law unto himself he is, but where’s Higgins? That’s what I want to know!”

In the end a maid called Bridget did the honors, and then accompanied Emmie and Mrs. Cheviot up to the third floor, where the servants were housed.

“It all looks very neat and tidy,” Emmeline commented at the close of the last door.

“And now, I thought we could finish up in my rooms,” Mrs. Cheviot said grandly. “Which are on the floor below. If you are agreeable, my lady, we could have a nice cup of tea and look over this evening’s menu together.”

“Of course, that would be lovely. I also wanted to have a word with you about Lottie, if I may.”

Mrs. Cheviot and Bridget exchanged glances. “Of course, milady. Bridget, do run down and fetch us hot water for the teapot. Milady, if you will just watch your step here, we’ll make our way to the second floor.”

Mrs. Cheviot’s rooms, a bedroom and her own private sitting room, were very comfortably furnished. The genteel style was very reminiscent of Emmie’s old rooms at Winkworth Street. She did not wonder that Pinky would have enjoyed a nice cozy chat there this morning.

“Master Teddy told me you had a mantel scarf,” she commented once she was settled in what the housekeeper assured her was “the most comfortable seat.”

Mrs. Cheviot looked surprised. “There now, fancy the child singling that out for comment!” she exclaimed.

“I think it is because our own rooms in Bath reminded him of your tastes.”

The housekeeper looked gratified. “Your dear friend, Miss Pinson, intimated as much. Now, why was it that you wanted to talk to me about Lottie? She has not done anything amiss, has she?”

Emmie explained that Lottie had ably helped her with her toilette that morning. “She seemed most competent, and I understand she is already fully trained for the position. I hope it would not inconvenience you too much to have her switch her duties?”

Mrs. Cheviot sucked in her cheeks. “It’s not that, milady. Indeed if you were happy to settle for Lottie’s services then that’s all well and good. The girl will be thrilled. It’s just Mr. Garraway and I imagined his lordship would want to engage one of those Parisien maids for you that’s wise to all the latest frills and folderols.”

Emmie had to hide her answering smile. “To be perfectly honest with you, Mrs. Cheviot, I do not think I will ever be ‘bang up’ to all the latest trends. I had a London season ten years ago and I did not enjoy it. I have no interest in being a leader or even a follower of fashion.”

Mrs. Cheviot looked skeptical but did not argue the point. It occurred to Emmie that she was used to an entirely different kind of mistress. Still, she was kindly and patient as she poured Emmie a hot cup of tea and passed her a menu written in a neat though rather spidery hand. It comprised of six courses and looked vastly elegant.

“I really do not know that I could improve on this, Mrs. Cheviot, so I hope you are not expecting me to refine it. It all looks delicious. I can hardly wait.”

The housekeeper sat up straighter and turned very pink. “Well, milady, I hope I am not being immodest when I say that I am used to running things pretty well on my own initiative. There was no lady in the house in the old lord’s day, once his stepsister was married with a house of her own and his own marriage was so short-lived…well. I’ll say no more about that ,” she said, pursing her lips.

“I was just admiring Jeremy’s mother’s portrait in the blue salon,” Emmie said. “She was very pretty; I think he must take after her in appearance. Jeremy told me that his father had the folly built for her as a wedding present.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Cheviot sighed. “He was good at grand gestures, the old master, but he was not an easy man to live with. Sullen he was, and moody. Why, he could nurse a grievance for days! He fell out with everyone hereabouts at one time or another. The squire, the vicar, no one was safe from his temper. Now, I never agreed with what Lady Faris did, the current lord’s mother, I mean. Up and running away like she did, but I daresay he drove her to it.

“She was a gentle and pretty spoken creature. Only child she was, of a widower who spoiled her. Ill prepared, she was, for married life with the likes of him! Used to cry she did, all the time. Fair broke my heart it did to see her pining away day after day, so pale and miserable. I never should have married , that’s what she used to say, though afterward, we found out she married again and not so long after neither! But there, folks are funny.”

Mrs. Cheviot checked the teapot and, finding ample remaining, poured them both another cup.

“I had not realized until recently that Jeremy’s parents were also divorced,” Emmie admitted, lifting her cup to her lips.

Mrs. Cheviot tutted and shook her head. “A sad business it was, very sad and the old master, wicked the way it was he took her leaving. Fair tickled about it, he was! Never thought she had it in her, that’s what he used to say, and laugh. Laughed! Granted her a divorce he did, the only handsome thing he ever did by her, but she had to leave her child behind. His heir, you know, and Master Jeremy only a babe in arms. Must have broken her heart that must have done.

“Not but what, we found out afterward she had another baby, a girl that time, so hopefully that consoled her a little. That’s his lordship’s sister, Mrs. Nye.” She cleared her throat. “She lives locally now but was raised in Wiltshire. She’s married to an innkeeper.” Mrs. Cheviot paused awkwardly for a moment before continuing.

“Very fond of her, his lordship is, and Master Teddy, though your predecessor, she did not think the connection a good one.” Mrs. Cheviot sniffed. “Very high in the instep she was, on account of her father being Earl Tipton.”

Emmie cleared her throat. “I was a little acquainted with Lady Amanda years ago,” she admitted, “when I lived in London.”

Mrs. Cheviot’s eyes widened. “There now, I did not realize that!” She leaned forward. “You were debutantes together, then, going to all those fancy parties and being presented.”

“She came out a few years before me, so I really only knew her by sight alone.”

“And his lordship? Did you know him in those days?”

Emmie felt the betraying color creep into her cheeks. “Oh yes,” she agreed lightly. “I knew him then.”

“ Such a handsome young man he was,” Mrs. Cheviot sighed. “And so different from his father. I don’t just mean in looks, though his father was good-looking in another way. I mean by temperament. Very sunny-natured as a child Master Jeremy was, and always fair spoken, even when he was sent down from school and in disgrace.

“‘Mrs. C,’ he used to say, ‘you must not be cross with me for I could not bear it,’ and indeed I never could be, not for long. No matter what tricks he played! He could charm the birds from the trees, that one,” she chuckled. “And he always had a way of coaxing folk. Even his father could not resist him when he really put his mind to charming him.

“The times he threatened to cut him off without a penny, but he never did. Master Jeremy would always bring him around in the end. At the last, when he was on his deathbed, it was only Master Jeremy that would do. He could not abide the vicar or anyone else to sit with him. That says a lot, now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, I rather think it does.” Emmie thought of her own father, whose passing had been swift and unexpected. Would he have wanted her to hold his hand at the end, if he had a choice? She did not know.

“Right sorry we were when we realized his lordship, his current lordship I mean, was headed down the same path as his father, and getting a divorce. ” Mrs. Cheviot lowered her voice over the offending word. “Not that we were precisely shocked,” she said slowly. “The marriage was, well, far from harmonious. An estrangement, now, none of us would have batted an eyelid at that, but divorce…” She shot a look at Emmie’s carefully blank face. “But the least said about that, perhaps, the better.”

It was so tricky, Emmie thought. Strictly speaking, she knew she should not encourage gossip, but it was all so fascinating to hear about. “I have been very glad and thankful to hear everything you have told me, Mrs. Cheviot,” she said honestly. “It has all been most enlightening.” Mrs. Cheviot settled back in her chair looking gratified.

“Indeed, I have never been involved in the running of such a large house,” she continued, “so I know I shall be so grateful for any guidance you can give me.”

“Why, certainly, milady,” the older woman assured her. “I will be most happy to oblige in any way I can.”

By the time their conference was done, it was past four o’clock already. A passing maid escorted her to the nursery, where she found Teddy lining up tin soldiers in long drills.

“Here you are at last!” he exclaimed, springing to his feet. “I almost thought you had forgotten me.”

“As if I could,” Emmie said, gazing about the large room filled to the brim with books and toys and all the trappings of childhood. “Goodness, what a lucky boy you are to have so many lovely things!”

“Yes,” he agreed sanguinely. “Come and see my new fort. It’s much bigger than my old one and has a drawbridge that really lifts.”

“Do the little cannons shoot marbles?” Emmie asked, examining the mechanism.

“Yes, I’ll show you how. Papa bought it for me in Bath and had it sent back ahead of us as a surprise.”

“Who is this?” Emmie enquired, peering into one of the rooms and finding one of the soldiers lying in a makeshift bed made from an ink-spotted handkerchief. “Oh, he’s missing a leg!”

“That’s Carruthers,” Teddy said shortly. “He was grievously injured in battle.”

“Poor fellow!”

“He’s going to pull through,” Teddy assured her. “For a while, though, it was a close-run thing. He had a fever and mistook the captain for his old, widowed mother.”

“That is quite understandable. I do hope none of his fellow soldiers joke about it afterward. That would be too bad.”

Teddy nodded. “If anyone does, it will be this fellow,” he said darkly, picking up a soldier whose sloppily painted uniform gave him a somewhat slovenly appearance.

“Who is that?”

“This is Pomfrey. He’s a bad hat.” He leaned closer to her. “Even his old schoolmaster said he would go to the devil one day.”

Emmie gave an obliging gasp. Teddy nodded solemnly. “Does no one think well of him?” she asked sadly.

Teddy seemed to consider this. “We-ell, perhaps his sister,” he conceded at last. “But she’s rather a simpleton,” he said scornfully, “and believes the best of everyone.”

“I expect he writes her long letters, telling her all his woes,” Emmie said whimsically as she peered at Pomfrey’s beady little eyes.

“Papa says he may come right in the end,” Teddy admitted doubtfully. “He says his own schoolmaster said something very similar about him once.”

Emmie gave a strangled cough. “You, however, do not have high hopes for Pomfrey’s military career?”

He shook his head. “Even now, he is shirking guard duty,” he said gravely. “He should be up here,” he said, gesturing to one of the towers, “with Corporal Winthrop, but instead he is playing cards down here in the courtyard with Bayliss, who is a subaltern.”

“Very shocking.”

“I know.”

They spent a very pleasant hour playing with the fort. Emmie had Pomfrey up before a disciplinary where it was pronounced he would get sent to bed without any rations that night. She told Teddy she believed this would make him think twice about his wicked ways. Teddy told her that he doubted it, and that Pomfrey had a stash of hidden rum that he would fortify himself with before bedtime.

“Goodness me. He’s quite a resourceful fellow, isn’t he?” she marveled.

“Who is?” Jeremy asked, sauntering into the room, and leaning down to kiss her cheek. Emmie gave a guilty start.

“Pomfrey,” Teddy answered at once.

“Pomfrey?” Jeremy echoed in lively disgust. “I never thought I would hear anyone praising that scoundrel! What, pray, has Pomfrey been up to to earn your admiration, Ballentine?”

“Smuggling rum,” Teddy expanded.

Jeremy threw a startled glance her way.

“That is not what I was admiring!” Emmie protested hotly. “I simply think he has some qualities which might recommend themselves, if they could simply be channeled into a more worthy direction.”

“No one thinks Pomfrey has any redeeming features,” Jeremy said damningly, sitting down opposite them on the rug.

“His sister does,” Teddy objected.

Jeremy lowered the flag he had picked up to add to the tower. “I never knew he had one!”

“Oh yes,” Emmie said knowledgeably. “He writes to her once a month, great long epistles all about his troubles.”

“He would!”

She shook her head. “I am convinced Pomfrey is simply misunderstood.”

“That’s what his sister says,” Teddy said eagerly. “She even wrote to the captain of the guard saying as much.”

Jeremy narrowed his eyes. “I see that young Pomfrey has the knack of cozening womenfolk.” He picked up the toy soldier to regard him in a new light. “I never knew that about him before.”

Emmie tossed her head. “You are far too hard on him. I shall add my voice to his sister’s and appeal to the captain on his behalf.”

“I shall grow very jealous if you start writing to other men so soon into our marriage, Ballentine,” Jeremy warned her, making her gasp. “In fact, I forbid it.”

Emmie fought down her blush. “The captain, I am persuaded, is a most proper person,” she said primly. “And would never dream of imposing on me through our correspondence.”

“Yes,” agreed Teddy, “and besides, I do not know if Mama could write letters small enough for him to read.”

The next hour flew by, as it was discovered that the captain, whose name was Gerrard, had fallen madly in love with Miss Pomfrey by the power of her beautiful penmanship and kept her letter hidden in his breast pocket next to his heart.

“Poor Captain Gerrard!” Emmie exclaimed. “He must be a great romantic, I think.”

“I may demote him,” Teddy confided with disgust. “I can paint over his stripes and promote Stavers instead.”

“I don’t think we need to go that far,” Jeremy disagreed. “Unrequited love is surely punishment enough.”

“But what if he starts giving Pomfrey light punishments,” Teddy objected, “so that his sister won’t be angry? That would not be fair on the other men.”

“No, no, he will go the opposite way,” Jeremy assured him. “He will punish Pomfrey all the more, in the hopes he features heavily in his next letter to his sister.”

“That is a truly terrible strategy!” Emmie pronounced.

“Yes, but poor Gerrard is a fool when it comes to love,” Jeremy sighed. “His instincts are all wrong and he does not understand women at all.”

“Yes, but I can’t have a fool leading my campaign against the enemy,” Teddy objected. “It stands to reason!”

“You misunderstand,” his father said. “In military matters, Gerrard is brilliant , quite inspired. It is only in matters of the heart that he is sadly incompetent.”

“Oh, very well,” Teddy relented, lying flat on his stomach so he was eye level with the tin soldier. “But I will be keeping a close eye on you, Gerrard,” he warned. “There will be no dilly-dallying.”

He jostled the soldier and answered, “Yes, General Vance,” in a squeaky voice.

At last Jeremy glanced at his pocket watch. “We had all better go and change for dinner,” he said regretfully. “You too, Teddy. It’s getting late.”