Her opportunity to complete the evaluation would be over before she knew it, and the task was taking longer than she had initially calculated. With each new piece of the collection, she had to match it to any existing paperwork, write both a description of the piece and an assessment of its condition, categorize it, assign it a preliminary monetary value, and then record it all in a ledger. It was a slow, tedious process, and one that had been made slower by the demands of the party.
Even so, Olivia was confident in her ability to be seen as an antiquities purveyor in her own right—each step forward moved her that much closer to her goal. Perhaps she could even travel to make her own purchases. It was a lofty dream, and many obstacles stood in the way. But maybe, just maybe, if she could prove herself here, doors might start to open for her.
“Merciful heavens!” cried Tabitha. “Would ye listen t’ that wind?”
Olivia lifted her head from her work and looked to the China closet’s windows. Rain streaked down the panes, and the impenetrable clouds darkened the entire landscape by several shades. She frowned. “I hope the weather will cooperate for the ball tonight. I fear for the roads.”
“La, Whitmore House is not a mile from here.” Tabitha returned the silver bowl she’d been polishing to the completed pile and picked up another piece. “Mrs. Milton used t’ walk it t’ take tea with Mrs. Davies, t’ former mistress o’ Whitmore, nearly every afternoon—it’s that close! T’ weather shouldn’t interfere.”
Olivia tried to imagine what Mrs.Milton was like before her husband died. Had she always been cantankerous and defensive? Surely at some point she must have been happy here at Cloverton. Why else would she be so determined to continue her husband’s legacy?
Tabitha continued, “T’ Miltons and t’ Davies were quite thick in those days. But t’ Davies are gone now. Moved to London years ago. I imagine this’ll be difficult for Mrs.Milton. T’ Whitmore House she knew is no more.”
Olivia was always surprised at how much Tabitha knew about Mrs.Milton, and yet never once did a criticism of any kind cross her lips. In the last few days Olivia had spent a great deal of time with the maid. A friendship was forming, but so many questions remained.
“May I ask what happened to your mother? You mentioned that Mrs.Milton was good to her.”
Tabitha tucked a frizzy lock of hair behind her ear. At first Olivia thought she wasn’t going to respond, but at last she spoke. “She was taken advantage of while in service t’ Mrs.Milton, an’ she became with child.Me.But instead of throwin’ her out, as she’d ’ave every right t’ do, Mrs. Milton kept me mother on an’ saw I was taken care of. She even made sure I learned to read ’n’ write. Everyone ’ere knew t’ truth o’ me mother’s situation, butMrs. Milton threatened t’ dismiss anyone who breathed a word o’ it. Then, after me mother died, she made me ’er personal chambermaid, and ’ere I’ve been e’er since.”
“Goodness,” Olivia exclaimed. “That’s quite a tale.”
“Isn’t it? Can ye even imagine what would’ve ’appened to me if she’d dismissed me mother?”
Olivia was quickly learning that loyalty was an important trait to Mrs.Milton. “Do you think that Mrs.Milton will ever be able to coexist with the Wainbridges?”
Tabitha stood from her seat, retrieved another box of combs, and returned to the small table. “I don’t think so. But times change, don’t they? She’ll miss Cloverton, but she’ll be ’appier on ’er own.”
“Will you go with her when she leaves? You and Teague?”
“I’ll stay wit’ her ’til one o’ us is put in t’ earth, I reckon.”
Olivia stiffened. “I’m not sure I have ever heard such a statement of loyalty before. I don’t even know if anyone would say that about me, with the exception of my sister.”
A knock on a distant door sounded. Tabitha left to go answer it and returned a moment later. “This is for you.”
Olivia looked at the note. “For me?”
“Aye. T’ maid brought it up. Aren’t ye goin’ t’ open it?” Tabitha laughed as she held it out toward Olivia.
Surprised, Olivia accepted the missive. There was no post marking on it, nor address. It had to have come from someone inside the house.
“Who’s it from?” A teasing glint sparkled in Tabitha’s eyes. “A gentleman?”
Olivia waved her hand playfully to dismiss Tabitha’s suggestion, but almost immediately her mind raced. Was it from Mr. Fielding? Or Mr. Avery? After excusing herself from the China closet and returning to the privacy of the Blue Room, she slid her finger beneath the seal, popped it open, and sought out the signature.
Lucas Avery.
A thrill shot through her.
She lifted the note to the light filtering through the window.
I’ve gathered a few more pieces I should like you to take a look at. If you are interested, meet me in the library. I’ll be there all afternoon.
Olivia didn’t know what to make of the giddy, girlish feelings that enveloped her. He wanted to meet with her! It was exhilarating, mystifying, new, confusing.
Surely it was a mistake to feel this way. In mere days she’d return home to Kingsby Street—back to her uncle and her sister. Mr.Avery would return to his home as well. Their normal lives and routines would resume. Memories of their time at Cloverton Hall would fade.
If she was not careful, she’d be setting herself up for many painful moments.
