Charles found her grace’s request more than a little off-putting. She had a multitude of tasks to accomplish, not least of which was filling in as parlor maid while her actual maid currently scrubbed bedclothes. “Of course, Your Grace,” she answered like the dutiful servant she’d become.
“Sit, please,” the Duchess insisted, “else it shall look as though you are reporting rather than conversing.” She took another sip of tea.
Charles grudgingly sat, smoothed her skirts, and turned politely towards Miss Mowry, whose eyes looked awfully wide. She attempted to put the lady at ease.
“If this is indeed your first visit to Cumberland, Miss Mowry, I’m afraid you timed it poorly, for the countryside is least appealing precisely now while the snow slowly melts. In summer and fall our land is at its finest, though even springtime’s May Day is lovely, the village children especially have a grand time of it.” Charles watched color begin to revive the lady’s cheeks and knew her words were working.
“And the fells and lakes in summer, why, they are simply breathtaking. It is worth the long, harsh winters here to picnic at the foot of a mountain and swim in crystalline blue waters. But I am sure I needn’t tell you any of this, miss, as her grace, no doubt, has regaled you herself of all our region has to offer.”
Only the Duchess, it seemed, did not share Charles’s enthusiasm. “I’ll admit most any season is preferable to winter, Mrs. Merrinan, yet I still find the landscape here harsh and oppressive.”
Charles found it odd her grace would disparage Cumberland at all, knowing her son intended to reside here with whatever wife he’d take. She frowned a little at the Duchess.
“I must disagree, Your Grace. The land is not so much harsh as it is wild, free. You can sense it in the air, the fresh breeze on skin, the slap of wind in a storm. And when one lives here year round, one appreciates this power and pulse—how brilliantly nature paints form and color into the sky, how sunrise and sunset are mirrored in the lake water, radiant against the mountainsides. It is, I believe, the most beautiful place on earth.”
Both ladies gaped almost at Charles. She blushed. “Forgive me, Your Grace, Miss Mowry. It seems I am out of practice for conversation. If you’ll excuse me there is much I must attend to this morning.” She curtsied fast and scurried from the room.
From the hall Charles overheard Miss Mowry tell the Duchess, “She speaks not at all like a housekeeper, does she, Your Grace?”
“No, she does not,” her grace replied. “Decidedly not.”
“Roland, dear, I must say your Cumberland cook is outstanding.”
They were dining, and for the hundredth time Wells wanted to throttle his mother’s elegant, aristocratic neck.
“Yes, Jenkins is a gem.” He was tired of making small talk. He’d done little else for days.
“Wherever did you find her?”
He promptly let loose a string of curse words in his head intended for his mother. “Miss Merrinan,” Wells replied tersely, “urged me to sample the cook’s rum nicky.”
Miss Mowry’s face furrowed at the term.
“Ah, Mrs. Merrinan.”Mamansmiled; she knew rum nicky’s charms. “A gem in her own right.”
“I daresay yes,” he expelled under his breath.
Miss Mowry blinked, still confused by rum nicky.
“And how did you findher?” His mother needled.
“My housekeeper?” Wells took another bite. “Showed up here looking for work.”
“Just like that?”Mamanarched her brow.
He remained stubbornly silent, not wishing to reveal the truth of Charles’s arrival.
“Mrs. Merrinan strikes me as rather well spoken for a servant.” Miss Mowry seized upon the lull in conversation. “Why, just today she painted such a vivid, almost poetic picture of the countryside I?—”
“Miss Merrinan,” Wells interrupted her, “is well educated. As is my steward, Mr. Cuthbert. I find employing competent servants leads to better run households.”
“Not to mention loyal,” the Duchess muttered.
“Yes, loyal, Mother.” His eyes met hers. “More than might be said of others.”
The Duchess was not rattled. “Miss Mowry, would you like a proper tour of the Abbey tomorrow? I’m sure Roland would be happy to show you about, for you really ought to see the ducal portrait gallery, and the oriental rotunda of course. You don’t mind, do you, son?” she baited.
Wells sighed loud enough it was apparent he did. “I should be delighted, Miss Mowry, though you must prepare yourself for cobwebs, excrement, and perhaps a ghost or two. The Abbey is haunted by quite a few nefarious spirits.”
