“Yes, my lady.”
“Could you make sure to give an accurate count of the needed textiles and linens to Miss Vaughn before we leave for the four o’clock train to London?”
“Yes, my lady.” The housekeeper repeated the same three words, but her sharp features looked mutinous. She clearly didn’t approve of an American outsider coming in and changing the abbey. Cordelia could only hope that once Mrs. Norton experienced the joy of hot water in abundance, the housekeeper would forgive her.
For not being the dowager.
Or the beautiful and compliant Penelope.
16
Cordelia said that she would be gone for three or four days in London.
Tomorrow, it would be four weeks to the day since she’d left Ashdown Abbey. It was now February. Thomas hadn’t realized how much he would miss her company and her sharp wit. Every day felt like winter without her: cold and dark. His mother, bless her, was not the most intelligent conversationalist. Penelope was beautiful to look at but painful to talk to. She took everything he said literally and never once argued a different opinion. No one told jokes or offered false opinions for humor, as Cordelia was so fond of doing in her most deadpan voice. Only her dancing eyes gave her away.
He would have assumed that she’d left him if dozens of crates didn’t arrive every day but Sunday. The day after she’d left for London, they’d received forty claw-foot tubs, followed by fifty-five water closets and sinks.
After a week, a shipment of Italian marble arrived—just in time for the builders to lay it into the newly created bathing rooms and water closets—followed by seventy-two mattresses and enough new linens for Buckingham Palace. Every single bed in the abbey had a new, soft, top-of-the-line mattress.
The third week, a team of upholsters arrived to refresh the dining room chairs. He’d also received over one hundred pieces of furniture to replace every single piece on the main floor, except his mother’s prized dining room table. They were followed by an endless stream of painters and wallpaperers.
This week, new windows for the entire abbey arrived, with one hundred and three men to install them. Ten other crews were handing draperies in the rooms. Every item was carefully marked and assigned in Cordelia’s perfect script precisely where it was to go. He was impressed by her memory and her organizational abilities.
All that was left to replace were the threadbare carpets and decorations for the freshly painted but blank walls. His father had long ago sold any painting of value.
He glanced out the window and saw a caravan of wagons arriving in front of his home. Pulling out his pocket watch, he looked at the time: four o’clock. It was late in the day for crates to arrive. He wandered out of the library and to the back of the house where packages were delivered.
Hibbert was already out there to meet them.
Thomas counted twenty-eight wagons, all of which appeared to be full to the brink.
“I wonder what her ladyship is sending to us today.”
The driver of the first wagon jumped out of his seat and handed a paper to Thomas. The packages weren’t from his wife—they were wedding presents from America. He let out a low whistle.
“Where shall I have the men put them, my lord?”
He had no idea what to do with all of them. “Um—how about the ballroom. It’s the only space large enough to store them until we can open them all.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Thomas was about to return to the library, when he noticed that a carriage was pulling to the front of the house. Without thinking, he jogged to meet it. He opened the door and Cordelia jumped out.
“I am so sorry, Thomas!” she said, shaking his hands and giving him a smile that warmed him to the core. “Everything took so much longer than I expected… I was able to find the most incredible woman to restore the abbey’s tapestries, but none of the art in London quite took my fancy, so I was forced to spend a few days in Paris. The paintings I bought should be arriving in a few weeks.”
He held on to her hands. He’d forgotten how stunning she was. How vibrant. “I am glad your trip was a success. I missed you.”
“You did?” she said with a smile. She slipped her hands from his, then linked arms with him. “How is the work progressing?”
Thomas’s body temperature rose as he led her to the main doors. “You will not believe what we have accomplished in your absence. The bathing rooms and water closets are nearly done, and the electric lights are installed. The workers for a central heating system have begun, but it will probably take a few more months before it is completed. I’ve had workers reinforce all the brickwork on the façade, and they’ll be starting on the roof in the next fortnight.”
“You have been a busy bee.”
He couldn’t help but smile. He’d missed her banter. “As have you. The entire abbey is practically new, except for the carpets.”
“Oh dear,” she said, talking from one side of her mouth. “I’d forgotten about them. Are they more holey than ever?”
“Well, Ashdown was once an abbey.”
