“I was led to believe this was a family gathering, your ladyship. I am family, am I not?”
“You are not! You’re nothing but a street urchin my husband took pity on. And look how that turned out. A villain, stealing the fortunes of respectable gentlemen, preying on their good natures!” Her pitch grew higher in anger, each word more shrill than the last. “I should have had you thrown from the house when I first arrived, sent back to the sewers with the rats where you belong.”
Kate’s eyes had gotten impossibly wider, as though they’d filled with tears. It was difficult to discern from the distance with only one working eye.
Hugh had just sighed, turning to the drink tray when I first addressed his mother. He drained a glass of something expensive in a single gulp before refilling it, pouring a second, and passing it to me. I swallowed it down—scotch. This time I relished the burn in my cheek. There was a second where I hoped that maybe, just this once, Hugh would curb his mother’s tirade. As usual, I was left disappointed.
When no help from his quarter appeared forthcoming, I replied with forced casualness. “But they’re so easy to steal from. I’ll do my best not to spread fleas over the furnishings while I’m here, Agatha.” She hated few things more than when I addressed her so casually, and her wordless huff satisfied something sick inside me.
From the corner of my eye, Kate made a motion to intervene. Luckily for all involved, Tom chose that moment to make an appearance.
My youngest brother was blessed with the kind of jovial manners and open countenance that are universally beloved. While he was still at Eton and Cambridge, I visited him often. He was the only member of my family who took pains to visit my establishment, once he reached an appropriate age, of course.
He was only seven when the viscount died, and I sometimes felt he was more son than brother. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the moment, his conviviality often meant he was forced to act as buffer between Agatha and me. Hugh and I could usually maintain a polite, if stilted, discourse on our own.
Everyone in the room, at least those who held a title other than dowager viscountess, was desperate for a cease-fire. We mutually seized on Tom’s presence to diffuse the tension. Used to this, Tom greeted everyone affably. It seemed he had grown more in the month or so since I last saw him. He was several inches taller than even Hugh. Unlike Hugh, he hadn’t managed to grow into his limbs yet. His hair was lighter than ours, and he left it in too-long curls. This, combined with his enthusiastic manner, often reminded me of an overeager spaniel puppy. My fondness for him was the sole reason I retained any contact with my family.
“What happened to your eye, brother?” Unlike Hugh, Tom’s question seemed to be born of genuine concern. Tom never hesitated to refer to me by our relation. Hugh steadfastly refused to refer to me as anything other than “Michael,” denying me the distinction of family.
“Satin shortage at the modiste.”
Tom’s agreeable laughter was infectious. His easy manner lessened some of the tension brought by Agatha’s displeasure.
“Lucky you survived the fray then,” he added.
“I even avoided bleeding on the white lace.”
Before he could retort, the poor footman, so recently escaped and still weary from his recent abuse, was thrust back into the lion’s den to inform us that supper was served. The dining room, had been redecorated in my absence. Agatha’s ostentatious crimson and gold had been replaced with an airy cream and sage. Kate must have ordered the leaves removed from the table. The intimidating sixteen-person place setting on which her predecessor insisted, was shortened to seat just six. Her efforts were a substantial improvement.
What followed our entry into the dining room could only be described as the most beautifully choreographed dance I ever had the pleasure to witness. Footmen, both new, waited at the seats reserved for the viscountess at the foot and dowager in the middle. Agatha approached the foot of the table to the left of the man and made a sound that was half grunt, half pointed hacking cough to remind him to pull the chair for her. At the same moment, Kate approached the footman’s other side. The man, clearly used to this display, pulled out the chair and simultaneously shifted it to the side that Kate occupied. She slipped in elegantly, leaving Agatha to scoff and stomp toward her designated seat in the middle of the table, across from Tom.
I grabbed the glass of wine at my place and toasted in Kate’s direction while Agatha fussed in her spot. She bit her lip to hold back a laugh. It was then that I determined that she was quite too good for my brother.
With my first sip of Mrs. Hudson’s winter squash soup, my cold heart warmed slightly. That woman was the finest cook in all of England, I was quite certain of it. Even Agatha could find nothing in the meal about which to complain. Instead, she reserved her barbs for Kate and me. Tom was in fine form, though, ready with a new subject at every opportunity; the weather, the upcoming ball, the latest gossip, the play showing at Drury Lane.
Rather than separating after supper, leaving poor Kate to Agatha’s clutches undefended, I chose to beg off. Partially in hopes that Agatha’s desire for Tom’s company would outweigh her desire to harass her new daughter. But mainly in a desperate need for escape. Instead of seeing myself out as I indicated, I slipped down to the kitchens.
There I found Augie, entirely in his cups, performing some act thatmightbe construed as wooing—if one tilted his head and squinted. Whatever it was, Anna seemed to be enjoying it as she giggled at his antics.
They were surrounded by a few familiar faces. Weston and Mrs. Hudson remained, Mary, too, now an upstairs maid, survived from my tenure. All the other maids and footmen were new.
With little warning, Mrs. Hudson wrapped me in her arms, squeezing tight. I had missed her desperately, and her embrace soothed the tension that Agatha’s presence had wrought. Anna’s subsequent hug was as welcome as her mother’s. Always a beautiful girl, she was now a stunning woman with long red hair and a figure to be envied. Though I felt nothing more than brotherly affection for her, I understood Augie’s fascination on an intellectual level.
The kitchen was the same as ever. Large counters for meal preparation and a massive cooking fireplace overtook the room’s front half. The back was centered with a long wooden table, with matching benches alongside it for staff to eat.
I made myself comfortable at the worn table of my childhood, and a small ale appeared in my hand, courtesy of Mrs. Hudson. “What happened to your eye, young man?” No matter my age, I remained “young man” to her. She fussed over my injury, placing a cool rag over my eye and tutting in a motherly tone. Her ministrations and the drink went a long way toward improving my foul temper after supper.
“I was knocked out by Johnson.” My tone was slightly boastful, but frankly, I was hit by Daniel Johnson and lived to tell it. Anna rolled her eyes, but the new footmen were suitably impressed. Arguably the best of bare-knuckle boxers, a punch from Johnson could knock out a seasoned opponent. Surviving an undefended fist from the man was a feat to be celebrated.
Augie produced a deck of cards from somewhere, and I began to teach the younger footmen and maids to play cribbage. All the while, Mrs. Hudson plied me with more apple tarts than were likely safe to consume. Clearly made by her and not her daughter, they were good but not the exceptional quality of Anna’s. She was the natural baker.
“I should see to Lady Kate. Tom will be gone by now, and she’ll want to escape.” Anna seemed genuinely concerned for her employer.
“Does Hugh never check Agatha?”
“Never. She has made the poor girl cry more than once, and they only returned from their honeymoon a month ago. I could throttle him for his disinterest. I understand no one wants to scold his own mother, but he married Kate. His allegiance should be to her. Especially since she’s been nothing but sweet to that woman.”
With Anna’s retreat, Augie was more inclined to let the evening close. The crush would be starting at Wayland’s for the after-dinner hour, and I should be there to supervise. Since my superintendent was in no shape to work this evening, it would undoubtedly fall to me. I heaved him up and out the back, down to the waiting carriage. Accompanied by Augie’s drunken snores, I watched through the window as the house faded away into the distance.
