Magic Below Stairs by Caroline Stevermer Page A

colors in the flames. “Is that salt burning because you made it go whiter?”
    The empty tankard hit the floor with a clank. Frederick felt the weight of Lord Schofield’s hand heavy on his shoulder. “What do you see?”
    For a moment, Frederick could not utter a word. He was held fast in Lord Schofield’s piercing gaze. He was filled with fear that his employer saw right through him to the truth about Billy Bly.
    Lord Schofield gave Frederick’s shoulder a gentle shake. “Well? Speak up. What do you see in the flames?”
    Frederick looked back at the hearth. If he didn’t look at Lord Schofield, he could speak normally. If he didn’t let himself think about Billy Bly, he could tell the truth about everything else. “The ring of salt looked whiter when you were mumbling, that’s all. Is that why the fire turns green and blue now and then?”
    â€œNo.” Lord Schofield released him and took a step or two away. When at last he answered Frederick’s question, he seemed absentminded, as if he were thinking of something else entirely. “The cleansing spell absorbs all manner of impurities. It makes people sleepy too. I don’t know why.”
    â€œBut why does the fire burn green and blue?” Frederick persisted.
    â€œThe salt changes its nature when it takes the impurities in, just as the nature of the impurity is changed by the spell. That’s what burns green and blue, the residue.”
    Frederick dared to glance back at his employer. “There were impurities, then?”
    â€œA great many of them,” Lord Schofield agreed. “More than enough to account for the sinister signs you reported. Don’t speak of this to Lady Schofield. Given her condition, I won’t have her troubled.”
    â€œWhat condition?” Frederick picked up the discarded tankard. “She seemed perfectly well last night.”
    Lord Schofield handed him the broom. “Take this back to the kitchen and tell someone to thump you on the head with it until your eyes function properly. Lady Schofield, as everyone else has noticed, is expecting a child.”
    â€œOh, that.” Relieved, Frederick accepted the broom. “I thought you said she had a condition.”
    â€œThat is her condition,” Lord Schofield retorted, “and I won’t have her fretting herself over gossip and rumors. The physicians agreed. The quiet of the countryside, and more to the point, the complete absence of any members of her family, will do her good. Now that she’s safely here, I mean for her to have peace and quiet. She shall, if it means I have to strangle every person I see.”
    He knew it was never wise to presume on Lord Schofield’s good nature, but Frederick couldn’t keep silent any longer. “That’s your condition, sir.”
    â€œOut of my sight, saucebox, or I shall begin the strangling with you,” said Lord Schofield. “If you weren’t so clever about tying a cravat, I would turn you off without a reference.”
    â€œYou would, too.” Frederick put his whole heart into looking as sad as possible, no easy task, for he felt the smile he was trying to hide quirking at the corners of his mouth.
    â€œI would!” Lord Schofield assured him. “Now go!”

    That very day, at dinner in the servants’ hall, Mr. Kimball gave the staff the official announcement. “Having taken advice from the finest physicians and manmidwives in London, it was agreed the peace of the countryside would be best for Lady Schofield’s confinement. With God’s grace, she will give birth to his lordship’s first child here at Skeynes sometime in November.”
    The servants had known of the pregnancy from their first look at Lady Schofield. All the same, they rejoiced at the announcement, for it meant they could speak openly of the expected event. Grant raised his glass. “If it is a boy, his lordship