Warwick walked away arguing.
I ignored the rest of their barbed banter to study Rebecca. She didn’t seem to be screaming for help. Was I interpreting her words wrongly? I appeared to be the only one concerned. The crowd quickly dispersed, but my unease lingered.
A short while after Mrs. Murphy, Bridget and I returned to the kitchens, I went in search of Mrs. Frye, looking longingly as I passed a storage room where a discarded hip-bath sat. Mrs. Frye spent the late afternoons in the housekeeper’s office just beyond the butler’s pantry. The door to her room stood ajar, so I didn’t have to knock. Inside I found Mrs. Frye with her nose barely an inch away from a ledger that she painstakingly wrote in. I quickly backed away from the door, knowing she’d not want me to know that she had difficulty seeing. I’d be scrubbing for a month of Sundays.
It would take her hours to log in the stack of bills sitting on her desk without spectacles. This time as I approached her door, I scraped my shoe against the floor. She looked up as I knocked.
“Mrs. Frye, I wondered if I might have a word with you.”
“Don’t ask me for any special favors, miss.”
Heat flooded my face, though I had nothing to feel guilty for. Had I the notion to ask for use of the hip-bath, she’d answered my question.
“It’s about the child, Rebecca. I have a concern. When her mother asked how she’d gotten to the tower stairs alone, the child said she didn’t. I thought she also said help. Could someone have left her there?”
“Nonsense. You haven’t been here long enough to know, so I’ll inform you. Rebecca is a difficult child who never does as she’s told. She wanders about, even at night, and has to be watched constantly. I wasn’t surprised she wandered to the tower, though she never has before.”
I still didn’t feel comfortable with her answer, but was in no position to press my concerns, so I bit my tongue, and nodded at the ledger she wrote in. “I know you are very busy and I won’t keep you, but should you ever need help with the ledgers, I am very familiar with keeping accounts.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “I’ll keep that in mind. We’ll see how trustworthy you are with your work first.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I backed from her office. I had three things on my mind as I returned to the kitchens. A bath. Mary. And my unease about Rebecca.
Any intruding thoughts about him , his bare chest, his warm skin and his intoxicating scent I ignored, hoping desperately that if I didn’t acknowledge them they’d go away.
Dinner that night proved to be a quiet affair, almost anti-climactic after the tensions that had brewed to the surface during the day. Jamie was present for the first time since he’d stormed out last week, but he didn’t speak and he didn’t look my way. Stuart Frye was more mischievous than ever. He’d reverted back to the role of outrageously flirtatious groomsman, leaving me to wonder if I’d imagined the cultured, gentlemanly demeanor earlier. Tonight, he flirted with everyone but Bridget and kept his gaze on the Oak sisters’ bosoms. Bridget appeared as if she wanted to skewer him for it.
My thoughts of Sean had grown insufferably persistent, and it wasn’t until I was pushing the vegetables around in my bowl that I honed in on what was bothering me. Was Prudence currently his mistress?
In my opinion, Sean had he made advances on me. His search of my person that first night had been personal as had his murmured notion to meet him in the library one evening. Today, he’d been even more familiar. So had I.
As soon as Bridget and I reached our room the question burst from me. “What is Lady Prudence’s relationship to the Killdaren? Is he going to marry her?”
“What’s that, you said? Lady Prudence? Ack, it’s Miss Prudence. Though now educated, she’s a cropper’s daughter, and he’s the legitimate albeit second son of the Earl of Dartraven. He could never marry her.
I ignored the rest of their barbed banter to study Rebecca. She didn’t seem to be screaming for help. Was I interpreting her words wrongly? I appeared to be the only one concerned. The crowd quickly dispersed, but my unease lingered.
A short while after Mrs. Murphy, Bridget and I returned to the kitchens, I went in search of Mrs. Frye, looking longingly as I passed a storage room where a discarded hip-bath sat. Mrs. Frye spent the late afternoons in the housekeeper’s office just beyond the butler’s pantry. The door to her room stood ajar, so I didn’t have to knock. Inside I found Mrs. Frye with her nose barely an inch away from a ledger that she painstakingly wrote in. I quickly backed away from the door, knowing she’d not want me to know that she had difficulty seeing. I’d be scrubbing for a month of Sundays.
It would take her hours to log in the stack of bills sitting on her desk without spectacles. This time as I approached her door, I scraped my shoe against the floor. She looked up as I knocked.
“Mrs. Frye, I wondered if I might have a word with you.”
“Don’t ask me for any special favors, miss.”
Heat flooded my face, though I had nothing to feel guilty for. Had I the notion to ask for use of the hip-bath, she’d answered my question.
“It’s about the child, Rebecca. I have a concern. When her mother asked how she’d gotten to the tower stairs alone, the child said she didn’t. I thought she also said help. Could someone have left her there?”
“Nonsense. You haven’t been here long enough to know, so I’ll inform you. Rebecca is a difficult child who never does as she’s told. She wanders about, even at night, and has to be watched constantly. I wasn’t surprised she wandered to the tower, though she never has before.”
I still didn’t feel comfortable with her answer, but was in no position to press my concerns, so I bit my tongue, and nodded at the ledger she wrote in. “I know you are very busy and I won’t keep you, but should you ever need help with the ledgers, I am very familiar with keeping accounts.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “I’ll keep that in mind. We’ll see how trustworthy you are with your work first.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I backed from her office. I had three things on my mind as I returned to the kitchens. A bath. Mary. And my unease about Rebecca.
Any intruding thoughts about him , his bare chest, his warm skin and his intoxicating scent I ignored, hoping desperately that if I didn’t acknowledge them they’d go away.
Dinner that night proved to be a quiet affair, almost anti-climactic after the tensions that had brewed to the surface during the day. Jamie was present for the first time since he’d stormed out last week, but he didn’t speak and he didn’t look my way. Stuart Frye was more mischievous than ever. He’d reverted back to the role of outrageously flirtatious groomsman, leaving me to wonder if I’d imagined the cultured, gentlemanly demeanor earlier. Tonight, he flirted with everyone but Bridget and kept his gaze on the Oak sisters’ bosoms. Bridget appeared as if she wanted to skewer him for it.
My thoughts of Sean had grown insufferably persistent, and it wasn’t until I was pushing the vegetables around in my bowl that I honed in on what was bothering me. Was Prudence currently his mistress?
In my opinion, Sean had he made advances on me. His search of my person that first night had been personal as had his murmured notion to meet him in the library one evening. Today, he’d been even more familiar. So had I.
As soon as Bridget and I reached our room the question burst from me. “What is Lady Prudence’s relationship to the Killdaren? Is he going to marry her?”
“What’s that, you said? Lady Prudence? Ack, it’s Miss Prudence. Though now educated, she’s a cropper’s daughter, and he’s the legitimate albeit second son of the Earl of Dartraven. He could never marry her.
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