Apparently, it was a rhetorical question, since he’d already headed out the door. She glanced at the Earl of Manderly and saw something flicker across his face. Sorrow, perhaps?
He inclined his head, his smile wry. “Good luck.”
She curtsied, and huffing out a breath, hurried to catch up to her new employer.
Xenia had not been in that many manors. Well, except for the years spent in her mama’s gang. Given the nature of those visits, she hadn’t lingered to examine the surroundings. She forced herself to pay attention to Lord Ethan’s issuance of demands as he led her to the entrance hall. Looking around her, she came to the obvious conclusion: this place was a dump. She didn’t mind; having lived in dumps all her life, she knew how to make the best of things. Truth be told, she felt a kinship to the house. While circumstances beyond its control had brought it low, it remained standing.
She was reminded of the rumors she’d heard in Chuddums. For her, the possibility of a resident ghost added to the manor’s charm. She’d always adored stories with a supernatural element.
“Have you seen the ghost, my lord?”
She directed the question at Lord Ethan’s broad back.
“I have not.” He didn’t bother to turn, his footsteps clipping ahead. “Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Because there is no bloody such thing as ghosts.”
Not for those lacking in imagination, clearly.
“The rumors are nonsense.” He twisted his head to scowl at her. “I hope you are not a silly and superstitious sort of female, Mrs. Wood.”
She flashed to the salt she’d thrown over her shoulder this morning. The crack she’d avoided on the pavement. The spider in the cupboard that she’d painstakingly rescued in a cup and set outside, singing,Be free, little friend. Be free!
“Not at all, sir,” she said.
His reply was a grunt.
No matter. She could ferret out information about the phantom on her own. Mrs. Pettigrew, the proprietress of the Leaning House tea shop, had seemed like a fount of information about Chuddums and its local lore. Inspiration percolated through Xenia.
Perhaps I could incorporate ghosts into my storytelling. Imagine what I could do with phantoms at an orgy…
They arrived at the entrance hall, which might have been grand at some point. The double staircase curved upward to the second floor, but several steps on the left side had rotted away, leaving gaps like rotted teeth. The floor was covered with grime, and the chandelier that hung from the high ceiling looked ancient, baptizing passersby with sprinkles of dust.
“I expect you will tidy things up,” his lordship said.
His gesture encompassed…everything?
She was no authority on cleaning. Truth be told, she wasn’t tidy by nature. She’d never given much credence to the adage concerning cleanliness and Godliness. She believed that neatness was a symptom of an uninspired mind, and while she had many failings, she never lacked for imagination. There were always more interesting things to do than tidy up, but she figured she could learn on the job. Just because she’d never kept a house didn’t mean she couldn’t do it. Although, given the manor’s size and state of neglect, she would need help.
“How many servants do you have on staff?” she inquired.
“At present, Brunswick, the butler and Mr. Valentine, the valet manage the house. Spencer, the groom, oversees the stables.”
Two servants in the house?Her eyes rounded.And not a single maid or footman?
“There is a mop fair in Chuddums next week, where you’ll be able to hire as many maids as you wish,” he added brusquely. “In the interim, do your best to make things presentable.”
She nodded, relieved that help was on the way. Moreover, one could say that disguising things to make them look respectable was her specialty. The fact that this place was a mess might even work to her advantage. Who would notice smudges on the banister when half the banister was missing? Or a few footprints on the carpet when the entire surface was caked with mud? Maybe she wouldn’t have to do much cleaning after all…
“Why are you smiling that way?”
Startled, she returned her gaze to Lord Ethan, who was giving her a surly look.
“No reason, my lord,” she said hastily. “May I see the rest of the house?”
The tour continued. The manor was shaped like a rectangle, with the drawing room and morning room to the right of the entrance hall and the dining room and library to the left. At least she guessed the latter was a library due to the empty, cobweb-covered shelves spanning the length of the room. At present, the space was stuffed with furniture and trunks.
