‘Alright,’ she said, hearing her voice shake a little as she lowered herself into a floral chair. That had been the hardest thing. ‘Edward and Abigail had little comprehension. Samantha had some questions but in reality, I honestly think it will make little difference to them. They’re still so young and rarely spent time with him. They wanted to go out to play so Mr Fenwick took them to the woods.’
‘Who does the house go to now?’ asked Harriet, a crease in her brow as she held out her cup for Mrs Jenkins to pour tea.
‘It’ll go to Edward,’ said Thea. ‘Although in trust to me until he comes of age. I made sure of it when we did the wills.’
‘Goodness,’ said Martha, playing with the edges of the bandage that covered the laceration on her left arm from where George had knocked her over. Thea knew she was uncharacteristically lost for words. How was it possible to express unavoidable sadness but also desperate relief?
‘Well good riddance to him, I say,’ said Mrs Jenkins as she poured for Martha.
‘Mrs Jenkins!’ said Mrs Phibbs, shocked. ‘You want to be careful…’ she left the sentence hanging in the air, but Thea assuaged her guilt. ‘Smoke inhalation, the doctor believes,’ said Thea. ‘Not the shovel.’ Everyone looked relieved.
‘He must have taken so much in when he set the fire,’ said Joan. They all nodded, happy to be convinced.
‘Don’t tell me you’re devastated,’ said Mrs Jenkins, waggling an accusatory finger at the housekeeper. ‘It’s a change but you’re breathing easier.’ Mrs Phibbs looked horrified, but Thea waved away her concern. ‘I think we are all a little conflicted,’ she said carefully. ‘It is difficult to balance and with emotions and stress running so high we must all be kind to one another. There were a number of people who cared for the duke–’ she broke off, thoughtfully. ‘–I am sure there must have been, anyway.’
She heard Harriet snort out some air. ‘You heard his friends mock him – they are only in it for themselves and notoriety. All of them.’ Nobody argued with her. ‘The fact is that everyone in the house is safer now.’ Thea couldn’t argue with that. One of the best things about Harriet’s bravado was that she was often the one to speak the truth when others didn’t dare.
‘Are we a hundred percent sure?’ asked Mrs Phibbs, a little nervously. ‘Only they thought Farmer Blackstone was stone cold and then he roused the next day. Mrs Blackstone went straight down in a faint and wouldn’t come round for two hours. Doctor Cope didn’t know which one to deal with first.’
Thea blinked at her, still a little in shock but trying to follow the story of the housekeeper standing over her with a tea pot.
‘Doctor Speckle is quite sure,’ said Martha. ‘There is no pulse or breath, apparently, and Doctor Cope has confirmed it.’
There was an awkward silence as Harriet reached for a biscuit, and they continued to absorb the news. ‘Why don’t you all sitdown?’ Thea asked, gesturing for Joan, Mrs Phibbs and Mrs Jenkins to take a seat. Having them hovering around with tea pots or pretending to stoke the fire unsettled her, and yet she wanted them to stay. But they only looked at her, horrified.
‘Sit down?’ asked Mrs Phibbs, her jaw a little slack. Thea nodded. Joan shook her head.
‘Here?’ asked Mrs Jenkins.
‘Yes,’ said Thea.
‘On a chair?’
‘Well, ideally,’ said Thea, wondering if this had been a change too far.
‘If you sat on the floor, you should never get up,’ said Mrs Phibbs to Mrs Jenkins.
‘I didn’t mean the floor,’ said Thea, alarmed.
‘We can’t sit on the chairs in the parlour,’ said Mrs Jenkins. ‘Them’s for the family.’
Thea glanced at the opulent curtains, rugs and upholstery in the room and felt the full force of her privilege. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘You are all part of the family, especially at times like this.’ She gestured to three spare seats and noticed Mrs Jenkins immediately tear up. She gave a little cough, but she and Mrs Phibbs both made for the seats indicated, straightened their skirts and sat awkwardly, perched on the sides of the velvet-covered chairs as if they might be swallowed up if they dared themselves to relax. Joan remained standing and looked like she would rather flee the room.
‘What about Miss Bellegarde?’ thought Thea, suddenly. ‘Should we ask her to join us? It seems like we are all needing some company.’
After Miss Bellegarde arrived their circle was even more awkward. Martha looked thoughtful, Joan still tried to look busy without sitting down, Mrs Jenkins and Mrs Phibbs sipped tea delicately looking fearfully at the China cups, Miss Bellegardelooked suspiciously at hers – not the right kind of tea, Thea supposed – and Harriet looked amused at them all.
‘What will you do now?’ Thea asked George’s mistress as politely as she could – quietly hoping that she wouldn’t expect to stay in the house. ‘I suppose you will be… looking for work?’
Miss Bellegarde shrugged. ‘Back to London I suppose, not much to stay for in the country.’ Then she looked at Thea. ‘Unless you need anyone?’
Thea was aware she was gawping at her. She tried not to look at Martha.
‘Or know anyone who does?’
‘I’m fine thank you,’ squeaked Thea. ‘And I can’t think of anyone who needs assistance. Off the top of my head.’
‘Shame,’ said Miss Bellegarde.
