“Of course.” Croydon’s lips had tightened into such a thin line that they had become white. “Thank you, Mrs. Shaw.”
Pippa wondered if the slight was intentional, or if the nursemaid had inadvertently spoken the wrong name, momentarily forgetting she was the Duchess of Northwich in her pique. But strange how wrong it felt to be referred to as Mrs. Shaw already. She felt as comfortable in the role of Roland’s wife as if she had always been the Duchess of Northwich.
She cast aside her irritation with Croydon and forced herself to complete this unpleasant interview. “When the time comes for you to leave us, provided we are still at Wylde Park, His Grace and I shall pay for your comfortable passage back to London, or wherever your next charge is located, whichever you prefer.”
“That is good of you, madam.”
Although Croydon’s words were perfectly amiable, her countenance was not. But then, the woman was perpetually dour.
“As I said, I do appreciate your service. This parting of ways in no way reflects your dedication to your charge,” she added. “I do hope you will find the change in your best interest as well as Char-char’s.”
She did not miss the disgust that flashed across the nursemaid’s countenance at Pippa’s use of Charlotte’s name for herself. Further vindication in her decision. There was precious little joy in the woman before her. And after everything she and Charlotte had endured, Pippa wanted to bask only in happiness and positivity. Croydon belonged elsewhere, and Pippa intended to find her daughter a nursemaid whose beliefs matched her own.
“How much time will I have, if I may ask?” Croydon queried. “Finding a new appointment will require some effort on my part, particularly as I have been displaced to Yorkshire.”
“Once more, I assure you that His Grace will be pleased to ensure you have the time and funds to secure an alternate post.”
The nursemaid’s lip curled. “I must thank His Grace for his generosity. Will that be all, Mrs. Shaw?”
Again the misuse of her former married name. At the second issuance, in conjunction with a reference to Roland as His Grace, Pippa did not think Croydon had made a mistake. Rather, her intent had been to issue a slight.
“That will be all, Croydon,” she said, glad the uncomfortable conversation was at an end.
As the nursemaid took her leave from the salon, Pippa felt as if another weight had been lifted from her.
* * *
Roland feltas if a crushing boulder had been lifted from his chest as he returned from his walk with Char-char and Puppy, the welcome news from Chief Inspector Stone secured in his pocket. Puppy had been pleased to scamper about the front lawn and Char-char had been equally content to chase the happy pup. When she had tripped over her hems and landed in a giggling heap, Puppy had leapt upon her and licked her face until she had squealed in delight. The sight had stolen his heart.
He had experienced a moment of utter, pulsating joy watching the tableau unfold.
This, he had thought to himself,is what the rest of our lives can be like.
As they made their way through the entrance hall where familial busts were proudly on display along with elaborate Greek friezes which adorned the walls, he could not help but to rejoice in the day, the moment. How utterly mundane, a girl and her dog, tramping across the marble floors. How perfectly wonderful. If only Mama were here now to witness the sheer beauty of it, this new family of his. But then, he had a suspicion she was. She was here in the small touches of herself which had been left behind after his father’s death, most notably the Oneida carved bone comb and the basket which had been woven by her grandmother, in a place of honor on the mantel.
He smiled as he took note of the items situated amongst Chippendale chairs and priceless vases and family portraits by Reynolds. More of Mama’s landscapes, her sketches and watercolors, ought to be framed and hung here, placed in a prominent place of honor.
“Char-char woves today!” Pippa’s daughter announced, her tiny voice echoing in the two-story chamber.
“Duke loves today as well, my girl,” he told her fondly.
Oh yes.Mama would have adored Char-char for her boundless spirit and her endless enthusiasm, for her innocence and her loving heart. In the Iroquois belief, Sky Holder was responsible for bestowing all the blessings upon humans. Roland had never felt particularly blessed in his life, despite being a duke with all the wealth and deference his title afforded.
It had taken Charlotte, Pippa, a wayward pup, love, and the news that all was about to be right in his world once more to make him feel how damned fortunate he was.
“Do you think Puppy would care for some more treats from Mrs. Dryden?” he asked Char-char.
“Yes,” she said with an emphatic nod. “And Char-char wants tarts.”
He grinned and led Charlotte and her dog to the staircase that took them to the belly of Wylde Park, and from there to the kitchens. Mrs. Dryden was bustling about, her cheeks flushed with exertion, but she had a ready smile for Roland, Charlotte, and Puppy.
“Forgive us for the intrusion, Mrs. Dryden,” he said, grinning back at the woman, that happy news in his pocket still buoying his spirits, “however, we were wondering if we might trouble you for a treat.”
“Of course!” The cook dried her hands on her apron. “A tart for Miss Charlotte and a hunk of liver for Mr. Puppy?”
“That would be perfect,” Roland said as Char-char clapped her hands in delight and Puppy’s tail wagged at the magical word he had already managed to learn.
With both girl and canine suitably pleased by their rewards, Roland led them back to the main level of the house where, much to his dismay, Croydon was awaiting them.
