“I recommend eight weeks’ recovery for even my hardiest patients. Adequate rest, invalid foods, and time are the greatest healers, madam. But that should not concern you, overmuch,” the doctor explained, “I daresay she’ll be sent back to her family.”
Two months was an eternity in a bustling household. Wade knew that staff positions at Pender Abbey were coveted throughout the county. Morla would be replaced within a week, as Mrs. Cardy would not wait for a mere housemaid’s return.
Cassandra realized this as well. “But, afterward, mightn’t she resume her duties? Her leg would not handicap her?”
Dr. Goff smiled at her as if speaking to a child. “My dear lady…”
No doubt, he considered Cassandra’s genteel manners, comely face, and kindhearted questions, and then dismissed her as vacuous. She was a duke’s mistress and served but one purpose—to charm and entertain an intemperate rogue.
Wade did not care for that assumption.
He sat forward on the sofa. Wade liked the doctor well enough, but did not appreciate anyone who considered Cassandra Staunton just another pretty woman to be petted and admired. “Can the girl work?”
Dr. Goff blinked. “Well, yes, Your Grace.”
“Good. Miss Staunton and I are in agreement. She wishes the maid to return, and I should like for you to ensure the girl receives the very best of care. I shall pay for it, of course.”
The portly gentleman bowed, sending his whiskers fluttering. “As you wish, sir. I’ll return in a few days time to inspect her progress.”
With that, Dr. Goff left them. Tremaine showed the fellow out.
Cassandra sighed, sagging against the sofa. The ordeal had sapped what little energy she’d had, and Wade knew that what she’d seen this afternoon disturbed her. Indeed, the sight of Morla lying in a broken heap had rattledhim.
He longed to chase the shadows from her pretty face. Wade turned to her, grinning, “Would it be ill-bred to ring for fresh tea?”
She laughed and rolled her blue eyes. “Oh, Wade!”
He was only joking. Tea could wait until the household had settled, for those who lived and worked alongside Morla had suffered an even greater shock discovering her at the bottom of the stairs.
“I cannot believe you want to keep the girl,” he said. “This was your chance to be rid of her. She insulted you at every turn. I should not have been so lenient, where I in your shoes.”
“I’m not being lenient. Our staff are entitled to their opinions, even when they are at odds with our own. We’ve a duty to each person under our protection, no matter their beliefs. I’d be a poor mistress if I allowed Morla’s view ofmeto influence my treatment ofher. Oughtn’t we to be fair, and impartial, and understanding?”
“We’re not judges, buttercup.”
“But we are in positions of authority. We should lead by example.”
“Very well.” No gentleman could argue with that logic. “The girl can recover in peace knowing her position within the household is safe.”
She smiled. “Which brings me to my second-most concern…”
Wade groaned. “Dear Lord, what now?”
“…Where should she recover? Upstairs or at home?”
“Dr. Goff said she would go home. She ought to be with her people.”
Cassandra nodded. “I am inclined to agree, however, her family may not be in a position to care for an invalid. Many workers send home salaries to help support their families—as Octavia has done. Losing Morla’s wages could mean starvation. Destitution. Without eight weeks’ pay, she may not have a home to recuperate in.”
“I see.” The woman he loved was a step ahead of him, as usual. She not only thought of the servants’ welfare, but that of their families. Contented, well-cared for individuals made for honest, hard-working employees. What peer worth his salt did not pray for that? After all, the decadent wallpaper in his dining room was courtesy of an angry mob storming Paris. Those blue flock panels were a gruesome reminder that one had a responsibility to care for one’s fellow man.
More importantly, it was simply the right thing to do.
“Morla may keep her wages and recover wherever she sees fit. I leave it up to you to sort out with Mrs. Cardy. Should you need money for the girl’s expenses, medication, or food and board, you—as mistress—havecarte blanche.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Later that evening, Cassandra made the long, slow climb to the servants’ garret. After hearing Octavia’s horror stories of Caswell Hall’s derelict service areas, she was almost afraid of what she might discover in the attics at Pender Abbey. Thankfully,herhome had not suffered during the duke’s long absences.
