“Dydh da!”She greeted them first in Cornish that she’d learned from Teg. She had prepared a speech, but discarded her notes, talking freely about her love of her new home. Gazing down at the smiling faces, she added an amusing anecdote about a northerner who couldn’t swim, and her shock when her husband rowed her to her new home on that first day. She finished with praise for the committee ladies’ hard work and how splendid a fête it was.
Relieved that it went well, she was helped down to enthusiastic applause. In the church hall, she took tea with the committee ladies; a plate of cake balanced on her lap as she listened to a discussion of village life. It warmed her to be part of it, and she yearned to domore.
“It is so very nice to have a baroness at Wolfram again,” said a woman in purple, her hat laden with artificial fruit. “Especially one as elegant as yourself, my lady.” “Why, thank you, Mrs. Matcham.” Laura smiled at the woman, whose cheeks were flushed pink. “I have been admiring your hat; it’s such a summery affair.”
“Oh. Thank you, my lady.” Ms. Matcham turned a deeper pink and patted her hat. “So sad, what happened.” She leaned forward. “Don’t you let those gossips distress you. Lord Lanyon is a fine man. We don’t believe a word of it.”
Before Laura could think of a tactful reply, Mrs. Brown, one of the committee ladies, cleared her throat. “Mrs. Matcham, I wonder if you’ll arrange for some more hot water. I believe we’re running out of tea.”
When Mrs. Matcham moved out of earshot, Mrs. Brown said, “I do apologize, my lady. There’s some here far too free with their opinions.”
Laura quickly masked her shocked surprise. “That’s perfectly all right. I’m sure Mrs. Matcham meant well, Mrs. Brown. I am not at all thin-skinned, and I treat gossip with the contempt it deserves.”
After tea, Laura crossed through the throng toward Teg and the waiting carriage. A female voice came from the crowd behind her. “Such a nice lady to have married a murderer.”
Shocked, Laura stopped and, shaking with distress, forced herself not to spin around and face them. She allowed Teg to assist her into the brougham. How could anyone suspect Nathaniel of such acrime?
“Such cruel nonsense,” she muttered, as she settled herself on theseat.
“There are some here who like to stir up trouble where none is warranted. Pay no attention, my lady,” Teg said over his shoulder, as he urged the horses to walkon.
“I don’t understand such spite.”
“A few here don’t believe the inquest went far enough into the first Lady Lanyon’s death. Some relish a mystery, my lady; they worry away at it like a cancer. But Lord Lanyon is well liked by most.”
That wasn’t enough for Laura. She firmed her lips at the unfairness as a surge of anger and dismay gripped her. What lay behind this view? Was Nathaniel and Amanda’s marriage an explosive one? Were they known to argue? A passionate relationship was often a combustible one. But she had never found a shred of violence in Nathaniel. He was gentle with her and his animals. His staff was loyal and obviously respectedhim.
Laura felt like weeping and began to understand the problems he wrestled with. She wished there was something she could do. But perhaps there was. She would involve herself more in village affairs. It was easier for her to mingle with the people than it was for Nathaniel, who, although he worked hard to improve their lives, must always seem a little too far above them. And it would give her a chance to mention those things he did for them, like this bill which was about to be passed in parliament, something many may not be awareof.
“Teg, Mrs. Moffat mentioned her mother was sickly. I plan to call on her. Do you know where she lives?”
“I do, milady.”
Laura would take her some baked treats to brighten her day, and perhaps she might be able to offer some help. She would visit the village school. Her university education could be put to good use to spot where improvements might be made. Discreetly, of course.
Once she’d begun, Laura’s ideas gathered force. As mistress of Wolfram it would be expected of her to visit the poor. She would meet with the clergyman to learn of their needs. She could form a charity; many of the women there today would like to join it, she was sure. And she would defend Nathaniel to her lastbreath.
Laura was glad of the breeze to cool her heightened color as the carriage gathered speed. Suddenly, the village appeared to be held back by the past. The end of this year would be the start of a new century, and the village would move forward with it, if she had anything to do with it.
Chapter Fourteen
The days without Nathaniel dragged by slowly. Laura kept busy taking on new tasks. She inspected the linens, the china, the glassware and silverware, and familiarized herself with the household accounts. She organized the flowers for the library, even though there was no one there to enjoy them buther.
She roamed as far as she could from the abbey, returning only when her feet grew sore or it began to rain. She spent evenings in the library reading about Wolfram’s fascinating and excitingpast.
A local woman came to inquire about the role of housekeeper but proved unsuitable. Laura could not employ anyone without Nathaniel’s agreement. She decided to cast her net further afield. In the meantime, she mentally rolled up her sleeves and went about with Dorcas making notes, keeping her mother’s instructions in mind. Nathaniel, like most men, didn’t understand the importance of a well-run house. Laura laughed to herself. How like her mother she sounded!
When she discussed menus and preserves with Mrs. Madge, the cook mentioned they were shorthanded in the kitchen. Laura took note of it as she went to examine the kitchen gardens. She discussed the plantings with the gardener to ensure the right produce and herbs were grown to supply the table. While it was the man of the house who usually hired staff, she must convince Nathaniel to permit her to take on some of the responsibility. She smiled. She believed women to be more practical and to have a better understanding of human nature, although she would not tell him so. There was also the need to have more uniforms made for the staff; poor Dorcas’ and the other maids’ dresses were quite shabby. Laura’s activities helped to keep her from worrying about the disturbinggossip.
Days before Nathaniel was due to return, Laura sat in the rose garden with the brassbound rosewood writing slope she’d discovered, which might have been Amanda’s, attending to her correspondence. It had rained earlier, and the air was moist and heavy. A faint breeze sluggishly stirred the leaves of the chestnut tree above her and lifted the corner of her letter. Eloise Travers, a friend from Cambridge, had filled several pages with news of her latest literary conquest. She was employed to review forThe Bookman, a monthly magazine. Laura paused from adding her heartfelt congratulations, tinged with a little envy, to admire the arbor of pink and white roses intertwined into a fragrant arch. Amanda and Mallory had exhibited some skill in creating it. Had there been more to their relationship? Hadn’t Cilla said Amanda found the gardener’s infatuationamusing?
Dismissing such unpleasant thoughts, Laura penned a dutiful letter to her mother, fearful that her parent would fill in the gaps and guess things weren’t as good as they might be. Laura chewed the end of her pen. She had no heart to embellish her words. Instead, she attempted to distract her mother with a request. Might she or her acquaintances know of a housekeeper with good references prepared to come to Cornwall? Laura elaborated on her refurbishment of some of the rooms. Running a house had proved to be more challenging than she imagined, and she’d developed a grudging respect for her mother’s ability to manage Grisewood Hall. Laura added a footnote of love and encouragement for her beloved father, who she knew was overworked and apprehensive as the Boer War raged on inAfrica.
Her last note was to Aunt Dora begging her to come and visit themsoon.
The butler brought several letters on a silver salver. “These have just been delivered, my lady.”
Laura gazed up at the man’s stern face from beneath her wide-brimmed hat as she took them. “Thank you, Rudge.”
