arrival that I have quite worn myself out.”
Bridget glanced at Michael.
He saw none of his amusement in her expression, however. She looked irritated, and he knew that she resented Mrs. Thatcher’s having singled him out for comment without mentioning her. Accustomed as she was to being the focal point of any group she graced with her presence, his sister had taken offense.
Lady Marsali, oblivious of Bridget’s sentiments, instantly drew one of the chairs near the sofa, sat down, and said in a tone of deep relief, “I cannot tell you, Bella, what a comfort it is to sit down on something that does not rock and jostle one’s bones to bits.”
“Indeed, this is a pleasant room,” Mrs. Thatcher said complacently. “Sal will bring our tea shortly, I daresay. Perhaps you could stir up that fire some, Kintyre.”
“Do you have no other servants, ma’am?” Bridget asked. “His lordship ought not to be doing such menial tasks.”
Michael, dealing with the fire, concealed a wry smile. These past few years at Mingary he had dealt with far more menial tasks than fire-stirring, but if Bridget wanted to play the grand Scottish lady, he would not put a spoke in her wheel.
Mrs. Thatcher said, “I live quite alone, my dear. Why should I pay a houseful of servants to do nothing much at all?”
“Not a houseful, perhaps, but surely a manservant or two would lend you more consequence, ma’am.”
Mrs. Thatcher laughed. “I do not require more consequence, and I can assure you that in a house the size of this one, menservants would bring me more scandal than distinction. Where on earth would I put them? There are but four small bedchambers in the attic, and but two rooms each on the other floors.”
Lady Marsali said, “I did think your house would be larger, Bella.”
“Then you know little about London houses,” Mrs. Thatcher said calmly. “With the exception of the palaces of the great aristocrats and the rookeries of the very poor, nearly everyone in London, from earls to artisans, lives in this sort of a house. The object, as I see it, has been to stuff as many houses as possible onto as little land as possible, so the houses all grow upward instead of sprawling out and about like they do in the country.”
“But we passed bigger ones,” Bridget protested. “Even in this street, several houses are wider than this one if not taller.”
“Oh, yes, but that only means the front and back rooms on each floor are wider, my dear, not that there are more rooms in those houses. Most London houses have but two rooms to a floor—except for the great old ones near the river, of course, and some of the grand ones in Mayfair.”
“But how can we possibly hold a ball here, or even a small party?”
“Bless my soul, child, why should we do any such thing?”
In visible dismay, Bridget looked from her brother to her aunt before she said, “Why, for me, of course. Is that not what most people do when they present someone to society?”
Mrs. Thatcher raised her eyebrows. “I suppose some people do hold balls in their own houses, but that would not suit me at all. Only think of the enormous expense—and the work! It mustn’t be thought of.”
“Well, we must think of some thing. Tell her, Michael!”
Quietly, Michael said, “Nay then, lass, hold your whisst, lest Mrs. Thatcher find you wanting in manners. I should not think of telling her anything of the sort, in any event. This is her house, after all, and she is generous to share it with us.”
“But—”
Lady Marsali cut in swiftly, “Hush, Bridget. Kintyre is right, you know. Moreover, I explained our needs to Cousin Bella when first I wrote to her, and when she replied, she assured me that nothing could be easier than introducing you to numerous persons in the first circles. Suppose you sit down and let her explain.”
Regarding Mrs. Thatcher doubtfully, Bridget obeyed without bothering to draw the chair she had selected away from the
Bridget glanced at Michael.
He saw none of his amusement in her expression, however. She looked irritated, and he knew that she resented Mrs. Thatcher’s having singled him out for comment without mentioning her. Accustomed as she was to being the focal point of any group she graced with her presence, his sister had taken offense.
Lady Marsali, oblivious of Bridget’s sentiments, instantly drew one of the chairs near the sofa, sat down, and said in a tone of deep relief, “I cannot tell you, Bella, what a comfort it is to sit down on something that does not rock and jostle one’s bones to bits.”
“Indeed, this is a pleasant room,” Mrs. Thatcher said complacently. “Sal will bring our tea shortly, I daresay. Perhaps you could stir up that fire some, Kintyre.”
“Do you have no other servants, ma’am?” Bridget asked. “His lordship ought not to be doing such menial tasks.”
Michael, dealing with the fire, concealed a wry smile. These past few years at Mingary he had dealt with far more menial tasks than fire-stirring, but if Bridget wanted to play the grand Scottish lady, he would not put a spoke in her wheel.
Mrs. Thatcher said, “I live quite alone, my dear. Why should I pay a houseful of servants to do nothing much at all?”
“Not a houseful, perhaps, but surely a manservant or two would lend you more consequence, ma’am.”
Mrs. Thatcher laughed. “I do not require more consequence, and I can assure you that in a house the size of this one, menservants would bring me more scandal than distinction. Where on earth would I put them? There are but four small bedchambers in the attic, and but two rooms each on the other floors.”
Lady Marsali said, “I did think your house would be larger, Bella.”
“Then you know little about London houses,” Mrs. Thatcher said calmly. “With the exception of the palaces of the great aristocrats and the rookeries of the very poor, nearly everyone in London, from earls to artisans, lives in this sort of a house. The object, as I see it, has been to stuff as many houses as possible onto as little land as possible, so the houses all grow upward instead of sprawling out and about like they do in the country.”
“But we passed bigger ones,” Bridget protested. “Even in this street, several houses are wider than this one if not taller.”
“Oh, yes, but that only means the front and back rooms on each floor are wider, my dear, not that there are more rooms in those houses. Most London houses have but two rooms to a floor—except for the great old ones near the river, of course, and some of the grand ones in Mayfair.”
“But how can we possibly hold a ball here, or even a small party?”
“Bless my soul, child, why should we do any such thing?”
In visible dismay, Bridget looked from her brother to her aunt before she said, “Why, for me, of course. Is that not what most people do when they present someone to society?”
Mrs. Thatcher raised her eyebrows. “I suppose some people do hold balls in their own houses, but that would not suit me at all. Only think of the enormous expense—and the work! It mustn’t be thought of.”
“Well, we must think of some thing. Tell her, Michael!”
Quietly, Michael said, “Nay then, lass, hold your whisst, lest Mrs. Thatcher find you wanting in manners. I should not think of telling her anything of the sort, in any event. This is her house, after all, and she is generous to share it with us.”
“But—”
Lady Marsali cut in swiftly, “Hush, Bridget. Kintyre is right, you know. Moreover, I explained our needs to Cousin Bella when first I wrote to her, and when she replied, she assured me that nothing could be easier than introducing you to numerous persons in the first circles. Suppose you sit down and let her explain.”
Regarding Mrs. Thatcher doubtfully, Bridget obeyed without bothering to draw the chair she had selected away from the
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