“We had best go and check the house, Robbie.” The sea captain nodded. “I should be grateful, Master Monypenny, if youwould set aside rooms for us, as well as a private dining room. I shall require a bath upon our return.”
“At once, ma’am!”
Remounting their horses, they rode across the green and down Riversedge Street. Skye was impressed by the great houses that lined the waterside. As they neared the end of the street the buildings became less grand, however, the last three being an elegant mansion, a small palace, and finally a charming house of mellowed pink brick. It was set within a private green park. The gates showed rust, and hung loosely open. Robert Small pursed his lips. Pushing open the gates, he led the way into the grounds.
The park was overgrown and unkempt, the woodland filled with brambles, the lawns waist-high in weeds. When they reached the house they found several windows broken and the front door hanging open on broken hinges.
“Master Taylor is going to have a lot to answer for,” growled Robbie. “Where the hell is the gatekeeper? He should be guarding the premises. Jean, didn’t you pay wages last year for a year’s gatekeeping service?”
“Oui, Captain, I did, but the monies were forwarded to Master Taylor, the agent.”
“It’s neither here nor there now,” said Skye. “The damage is done. Let us see if the inside has fared as badly.”
The three entered the house and gasped with shock as they moved from room to room on the main floor. Then Robert Small ran quickly upstairs inspecting the second and third floors. His face was a thundercloud when he descended again.
“Stripped!” he roared. “There isn’t a stick of furniture in the entire house! Nor draperies, rugs, linens, or plate! You’ve been robbed! The dirty bastard has taken everything!”
“Master Monypenny knew whereof he spoke,” observed Skye drily. “I won’t be played for a fool, Robbie. Master Taylor must be caught and prosecuted. I imagine, however, that the furnishings are long gone. You were in the house several times, Robbie. Do you recall seeing anything of great value?”
“Just the usual household furnishings.”
“Then they’re easily replaced. Thank heavens, Marie and the children remained in Devon. Come, Jean, Robbie. Back to the Swan. I am tired and want a bath, and nothing can be done here until tomorrow.”
On the following morning Skye rode into the city of London.She visited the cabinetmaker, the draper, the silversmith, the brass and iron mongers. At each stop she said the same thing. “Deliver my order within the week, and I’ll pay you a handsome bonus.” Then she paid in full for the work contracted or items chosen.
At the Swan she interviewed applicants for her household staff and with Master Monypenny’s aid, employed a Mistress Burnside as her housekeeper, half a dozen housemaids and footmen, a Master Walters for her majordomo, and his wife for her cook. There were four kitchen girls hired, as well as a pot boy. Mistress Burnside had a widowed sister who, with her two plain daughters, would be the household laundresses. The out-of-house staff consisted of a head gardener and head groom, each of whom had two assistants, and a gatekeeper. Skye would soon need a nursery staff to look after Willow, and this would consist of a laundress, a nursemaid, and one assistant. Compared to the great houses on the Strand, hers would be a very modest household.
Skye had inspected her house thoroughly by her second day in London. Below the main level of the house was a large kitchen that opened out into a small vegetable patch and herb garden. There were two fireplaces in the kitchen, both with brick ovens. One would take a whole side of beef. The other, smaller one, was well suited to pots and bread-baking. Off to one side of the kitchen was a cool, stone buttery, and off to the other was a scullery. There was a long servants’ hall with a fireplace and quarters for some of the servants.
The housekeeper had a private bedchamber, as did the majordomo and his wife, the cook. The four kitchen maids shared a room, and the laundress and her two daughters shared one. A small alcove set into the chimney wall was padded with a plump pallet and assigned to the little pot boy who was considered too young to be housed with the other male servants. The six housemaids would sleep in attic rooms set aside for them. The six footmen, three grooms, and two undergardeners were housed in the stable loft. The head gardener and his wife would live in a tiny cottage hidden in the little garden and the gatekeeper and his wife in the little gatehouse. Jean and Marie were given an apartment of their own in one wing of the house. Marie would continue in her duties as Skye’s chief tiring woman while the nursery staff watched over both Willow and Henri. The nursery staff would, of course, sleep in the nursery.
On the main floor of the house there was a large formal dining hall, a small family dining room, a reception room, and the apartment set aside for Jean and his wife. The second floor consisted of a library, a smaller room for Jean’s work, and two big reception roomsthat could be opened into one large room for dancing. The third floor of the house held Skye’s bedchamber, dayroom, and dressing room, besides two guest chambers and the nursery apartments.
The house was built near the river’s edge, but set back enough to allow for a rear garden, the walls of which rose up from the water. Skye had her own private quai. This was a distinct advantage, for it allowed Skye her own barge. She immediately commissioned one built, and, shortly thereafter, a bargeman was added to the staff. Everyone in the house was delighted by this, for river travel was often preferable to land, especially so in times of unrest.
The tradesmen with whom Skye did business were eager for the bonuses promised. Within the week the house was filled with all the things she had ordered. Everything was of the best quality. Skye had warned the tradesmen that she would not accept shoddy goods. She was not aware that many of the goods had been made for others. Merchants had sent her things that other customers would now have to wait several months for.
She hurried from room to room, directing the hanging of draperies, tapestries, and pictures, the placement of furniture. The rooms began to take on life and, finally contented, Skye walked slowly throughout her house. It was well after midnight, and the exhausted servants had long since sought their beds. She entered each room and looked about with satisfaction.
The oak furniture gleamed with a polish that only hand rubbing and pure beeswax could give it. Upon the dark wide floorboards were thick Turkey carpets. The use of carpets was unusual. Many homes, even those of the wealthy, still used rushes mixed with herbs upon the floors. There were colorful tapestries and paintings throughout the house, for Captain Small was clever at ferreting out those noble but impoverished families who were willing to discreetly sell such items. Heavy draperies in velvet and silk hung from the leaded casement windows. Brass sconces adorned the paneled walls. Silver twinkled on the sideboards. The scene was one of elegance and wealth.
As Skye departed each room she snuffed out the beeswax candles carefully. She would not allow fat or tallow in the house, even in the servants quarters, for she disliked the smell. There were porcelain bowls of potpourri in all the rooms. The river was known, after all, to stink occasionally.
She entered her apartment and found Daisy, who had arrived several days ago, dozing by the fire. The girl jumped when she saw her mistress.
“Daisy, you didn’t have to wait up. But since you’re here, unlace me, and then off to bed with you.”
“I don’t mind, mistress,” said Daisy as she undid Skye’s gown and helped her out of her petticoats. She wisked the clothing into the dressing room and soon was back dipping water from the fireplace kettle into an earthenware pitcher. “Are you sure you don’t need me further, ma’am?”
“No, Daisy. Go to bed.”
The little maid was quickly gone. Skye sat down wearily and carefully rolled off her gossamer stockings. Naked, she walked across her room and had a leisurely wash with her favorite damask rose soap. Sliding into an embroidered pale-blue silk caftan, she extinguished the candles and went to sit in her bedroom window seat, facing the river.
The moon silvered the water. She could see a barge pull into the quai two houses down. Two figures, a man and a woman, climbed out of the boat and went slowly up the steps to the garden. At the top of the stairway they kissed for a long moment. Then the gentleman picked up the lady and they were lost to view. Sighing, she sought her bed, and slept badly. The memory of the romantic scene she had watched burned into her and made her ache. Skye was twenty years old, and for the first time since Khalid’s death over a year ago, she deeply wanted a man to love her. She rose, weeping softly, and took a bottle of blackberry brandy from her dayroom sideboard. She then crawled back into the window seat and drank herself to sleep.
Next door, the owner of the small riverside palace was also wakeful. The Earl of Lynmouth paced his bedroom floor excitedly, scarcely able to believe his good fortune. Not only was his new neighbor the beautiful Señora Goya del Fuentes, but he had found a way to victory over de Grenville. He chuckled. He would pay his respects to the lady, but if she had not willingly succumbed by Twelfth Night, then he would blackmail her into submission.
The Earl of Lynmouth entertained lavishly, and his parties were famous. He had recently come up to London to see that his house was properly prepared for Christmas and Twelfth Night. The Queen herself would be attending several seasonal festivities, including his Twelfth Night masque. Geoffrey had been quite astounded to find that the beautiful Mistress Goya del Fuentes was the owner of the little jewel of a house at the end of the Strand, and had watched with interest as the house was refurbished. A connoisseur,he noted her choices with an approving eye as the tradesmen lugged their merchandise into her house.
