Mr. Bradshaw met her in the foyer and collected her winter coat and bonnet, directing her to the kitchen, where Mrs. Cartwright awaited her. It had become something of a nightly ritual for the two of them to take a cup of tea together before they retired for the evening, going over the events of the day or else discussing various aspects of household management that had yet to arise during Claire’s tenure within this particular home.
When she swept into the kitchen, Mrs. Cartwright was scribbling in a leather-bound book that lay open on the table before her. “Right on time,” she said, gesturing with the pen to the chair on the opposite side of the table. “Tea’s still warm, dear. Do sit.”
“I do hope dinner went smoothly,” Claire said as she sat and poured herself a cup of tea.
Mrs. Cartwright smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “It did,” she said. “Of course, you’ve quite taken the staff in hand. I doubt there’s one of them that would risk your wrath.” She gave a small sigh. “Do you know, it never struck me before you arrived, but I’ve let things go in the last few years. I might have managed Monsieur Bissonet as you did in my younger years, but I’m afraid I simply haven’t had the energy for a squabble of that nature in far too long. So I let him have his way more often than not, which no doubt conferred to him the understanding that he was entitled to do so.”
Claire patted Mrs. Cartwright’s hand sympathetically. “I’ve encountered his ilk before,” she said. “They snarl and bluster, but they back down easily enough when taken to task. You did what you thought best at the time.”
“I did,” Mrs. Cartwright said, “but it is the kitchen maids who have suffered the worst of his temper. Now that you’ve wrangled the man into submission, the kitchen is so much more peaceful.” She waved her hand over the page open before her in an effort to dry the ink. “I’ve been keeping this book for nearly thirty years,” she said. “I rewrite it every few years or so, removing the things that are no longer useful and adding in anything new. Of course you’ve been here just under a month, so you’ve yet to weather all seasons in this house.”
“Yes,” Claire said. “Although Iamlearning—”
“My dear, you are already the housekeeper in all but official title. I’ve not had to lift a finger in more than a week,” Mrs. Cartwright said firmly. “The maids defer to your judgment. Even Mr. Bradshaw brings his concerns to you. I knew you had experience, of course, but I had thought, having come from a lesser home, it would have taken you longer to adapt. Instead you have surprised me every step of the way.”
Claire felt a flush of pleasure creeping over her cheeks at the praise. It was a rare thing indeed for a servant, as most people tended to notice them only when they hadnotperformed their roles adequately.
“This book,” Mrs. Cartwright said, gesturing to it, “is now yours. I am satisfied of your competence, and of your ethics, and now that I know it will be in good hands, I am resolved to leave his lordship’s employ.” Swiping her finger down the page to ascertain the dryness of the ink, she gave a brisk nod and closed it up, sliding it over the table toward Claire. “It contains everything I have learned over the years of the running of this particular household. It will see you through where I cannot. I hope you will get good use of it.”
“Oh,” Claire said, and took up the book to thumb through its pages.Thiswas the summation of Mrs. Cartwright’s working life, every bit of wisdom the woman could impart to her. “Thank you,” she said. “Really. It’s lovely. I shall make good use of it.”
“I’m sure you will,” Mrs. Cartwright said with a fond smile.
“When do you intend to leave?” Claire asked.
“Friday,” Mrs. Cartwright said. “I shall miss this place, of course. But my pension will see me through nicely, and I suppose a bit of a rest will serve me well.”
“I will miss you.” The words slipped out before Claire was aware of them. She’d grown rather fond of Mrs. Cartwright and her unflagging dedication to her job. Though she’d known the woman would inevitably be leaving, somehow it had seemed a distant thing, and to have the moment arrive so suddenly was a bit of a shock. “I mean to say, you’ve been so kind to me. You took quite a risk in offering me a chance to work here, and—”
“My dear, I know just what you mean.” Mrs. Cartwright’s hand covered hers. “I shall miss you, too.” She glanced around the room and Claire had the oddest sense that the woman was committing it to memory, as if she could fold the image inside her mind and take it out to look at it in the future. “This house could use some young blood,” she said. “I really do think you might be just what this house—and the master—needs.”
Chapter Eight
Claire rapped on the door jamb of Gabriel’s study to announce her presence, but by the expression on his face she guessed that little short of a bolt of lightning from the blue could have gotten his attention. He was seated at his desk, staring down at a letter in his hand. What he could find so engrossing she could not guess, but he hadn’t even broken the seal yet. But that made little difference—his brows were drawn together, severe slashes of concern over green eyes that held a wealth of darkness and despair in them.
“My lord?” she called.
He made no response. He could have been a statue for all the reaction he showed to the gentle inquiry. Briefly she wondered what had happened to him in the intervening years since last they had met, for surely they had not been kind to him. He might share a name and a face withherGabriel, but that was as far as the resemblance went. And even his face was different, and not only in the way one might expect of advancing years. He had achieved a sort of austerity she would never have expected from a man who had been as lighthearted and cheerful as he who had once courted her.
She wondered what had stolen away his joy, what had forced cynicism and world-weariness into the place that had once been occupied by pleasanter things. And then she forced the thought from her head, because, of course, it was no business of hers. He was her employer, and whatever had transpired between them in the past had no bearing on the present—she would be best served to keep that crucial distance between them.
He no longer even remembered her.
“My lord,” she said again, a touch sharply, and this time his head jerked up. For a moment it seemed he didn’t see her at all; his eyes were unfocused, distant.
At last he cleared his throat and set aside the letter, yet unopened. “Mrs. Hotchkiss,” he said. “Is something amiss?”
“No,” she said. “It’s only that Mrs. Cartwright is leaving in a few moments.”
“Ah,” he said, “Do wish her well for me.” And he bent his head once more to the desk, studiously avoiding the unopened letter in favor of other correspondence scattered about upon the gleaming mahogany surface.
Claire felt an irrational surge of anger. “Mrs. Cartwright has served you and your family faithfully some thirty years now,” she said tightly, between clenched teeth. “Surely she deserves more than an absent send-off.”
His head lifted once again, a touch of sardonic amusement scrawled upon his face. “Dear Mrs. Hotchkiss,” he said, “surelyyou are aware it is in poor form to critique one’s employer.”
“Of course,” she replied. “But occasionally it is necessary.” She knew a moment of trepidation, her heart leaping into her throat even as the unwise words crossed her lips. But his careless disregard of the woman who had devoted her life to running his household, who had taken such pains to make his life run as smoothly and evenly as possible, was not to be borne. Even if he sacked her outright, she could not regret the words.Someoneought to have called him to account for his callousness ages ago.
He regarded her in that vaguely censorious way he had, as if she were a rat that had had the poor manners to scurry over his boot, and she very nearly shivered in response at the clear distaste that curled his lips. “I suppose now that Mrs. Cartwright has left her position in your hands, you feel secure in your position,” he said, drawing the words out like a threat. “I wonder what has possessed you that you’ve decided to take on the role ofconscienceas well. I’m sorry to say it does not come with additional wages.”
