master is, with old Gibbs, the groundskeeper. They’re wallin’ up that priest hole, they are.”
“Where is Nero now?” Sara murmured.
“I dunno, miss,” said the abigail. “Nobody’s seen him since. The master said he showed him where ta look, and took off like a shot. He’s like that Nero is, skulkin’ about, sneakin’ up on folk, and disappearin’ just as quick. I don’t like him much, I’ll own. He scares me, if ya want the truth o’ it. Oh, he’s never bit nobody—nothin’ like that. It’s just them eyes he stares at ya with. It’s like they was human eyes.” Sheshuddered. “Gives me the creeps, he does. He gives
everybody
the creeps the way he comes and goes . . . like a
ghost
.” She whispered the last, and Sara suppressed a smile.
“He’s no ghost, Nell, I can vouch for that,” she responded. “Ghosts don’t eat larded pheasant.”
“I know it,” Nell replied. “They don’t shed, and leave hairs on counterpanes, neither. It’s just how he seems is all. I’d like to give him a good bath, I would, but nobody can catch him. The master was goin’ ta get rid o’ him. I don’t mind tellin’ ya, we’d all rest a mite easier if he’d do that, but I don’t know if he will now bein’ that the dog’s a hero and all. They ain’t too happy about that below stairs.”
“Oh, I hope not, Nell,” Sara said. “I’ve grown quite fond of Nero, and I want you to leave my foyer door open a crack each night, just in case he should visit.”
“If you say so, my lady, but—”
“I say so,” Sara enforced. Maybe she wasn’t a real wife to Nicholas Walraven,
yet
, but she knew how to run a house and keep the servants in their place.
“Yes, my lady.”
“I think I’ve bathed long enough,” said Sara. “I should like to get out now, if you would fetch my clothes.”
“Oh, ya can’t have your clothes, my lady. Only your nightgown.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The master’s orders, my lady,” said Nell. “You’re ta stay in bed till he says otherwise.”
“That’s absurd,” said Sara. “It’s scarcely past the breakfast hour. I can’t stay abed all day. I’m perfectly fine, Nell, just a few cuts and bruises; nothing serious.”
“The master says that’s for the doctor ta decide, the doctor that’s comin’ from London tomorrow.”
“But I can’t stay abed with a guest due to arrive. There are preparations to be made—my menus, the arrangements. I must see to them!”
“I’ll see ta them,” said Mrs. Bromley, entering with salves, a basin with a compress steeping in it, and bandage linen laid out neatly on a tray.
“But—”
“Now, now,” said the housekeeper. “The master’ll sack the lot o’ us if you don’t behave. He’s left me in charge, and you’re goin’ ta mind, else he’ll have me on the carpet. Nell will help ya outta the tub. We’ll towel ya down, get ya inta your nightdress, and fluff your hair dry by the fire, while I bandage them cuts on your poor hands. Then it’s inta that bed with this poultice on your brow ta take that lump ta task. I brewed the bath for it myself, from red dock and castor oil. It’ll help heal the bruise, and bring down the swellin’. Then we’ll bring ya a nice bowl o’ oxtail soup, and toasted bread with gooseberry jam—they’re full o’ iron, ta put your blood back in order. We’ll have ya right as rain in no time.”
Nicholas made an appearance after dinner. Though Sara was expecting him, when he entered her bedchamber, her heart began to race so severely she was certain he could see it in the rapid rise and fall of her breast beneath her nightgown and wrapper. How handsome he was in skintight black pantaloons that outlined his corded legs and thighs. How broad his shoulders were in the black tailcoat of superfine, and white embroidered waistcoat that emphasized his narrow waist and broad, well-muscled chest. Her mind’s eye saw what lay beneath. Hadn’t she seen him nearly
“Where is Nero now?” Sara murmured.
“I dunno, miss,” said the abigail. “Nobody’s seen him since. The master said he showed him where ta look, and took off like a shot. He’s like that Nero is, skulkin’ about, sneakin’ up on folk, and disappearin’ just as quick. I don’t like him much, I’ll own. He scares me, if ya want the truth o’ it. Oh, he’s never bit nobody—nothin’ like that. It’s just them eyes he stares at ya with. It’s like they was human eyes.” Sheshuddered. “Gives me the creeps, he does. He gives
everybody
the creeps the way he comes and goes . . . like a
ghost
.” She whispered the last, and Sara suppressed a smile.
“He’s no ghost, Nell, I can vouch for that,” she responded. “Ghosts don’t eat larded pheasant.”
“I know it,” Nell replied. “They don’t shed, and leave hairs on counterpanes, neither. It’s just how he seems is all. I’d like to give him a good bath, I would, but nobody can catch him. The master was goin’ ta get rid o’ him. I don’t mind tellin’ ya, we’d all rest a mite easier if he’d do that, but I don’t know if he will now bein’ that the dog’s a hero and all. They ain’t too happy about that below stairs.”
“Oh, I hope not, Nell,” Sara said. “I’ve grown quite fond of Nero, and I want you to leave my foyer door open a crack each night, just in case he should visit.”
“If you say so, my lady, but—”
“I say so,” Sara enforced. Maybe she wasn’t a real wife to Nicholas Walraven,
yet
, but she knew how to run a house and keep the servants in their place.
“Yes, my lady.”
“I think I’ve bathed long enough,” said Sara. “I should like to get out now, if you would fetch my clothes.”
“Oh, ya can’t have your clothes, my lady. Only your nightgown.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The master’s orders, my lady,” said Nell. “You’re ta stay in bed till he says otherwise.”
“That’s absurd,” said Sara. “It’s scarcely past the breakfast hour. I can’t stay abed all day. I’m perfectly fine, Nell, just a few cuts and bruises; nothing serious.”
“The master says that’s for the doctor ta decide, the doctor that’s comin’ from London tomorrow.”
“But I can’t stay abed with a guest due to arrive. There are preparations to be made—my menus, the arrangements. I must see to them!”
“I’ll see ta them,” said Mrs. Bromley, entering with salves, a basin with a compress steeping in it, and bandage linen laid out neatly on a tray.
“But—”
“Now, now,” said the housekeeper. “The master’ll sack the lot o’ us if you don’t behave. He’s left me in charge, and you’re goin’ ta mind, else he’ll have me on the carpet. Nell will help ya outta the tub. We’ll towel ya down, get ya inta your nightdress, and fluff your hair dry by the fire, while I bandage them cuts on your poor hands. Then it’s inta that bed with this poultice on your brow ta take that lump ta task. I brewed the bath for it myself, from red dock and castor oil. It’ll help heal the bruise, and bring down the swellin’. Then we’ll bring ya a nice bowl o’ oxtail soup, and toasted bread with gooseberry jam—they’re full o’ iron, ta put your blood back in order. We’ll have ya right as rain in no time.”
Nicholas made an appearance after dinner. Though Sara was expecting him, when he entered her bedchamber, her heart began to race so severely she was certain he could see it in the rapid rise and fall of her breast beneath her nightgown and wrapper. How handsome he was in skintight black pantaloons that outlined his corded legs and thighs. How broad his shoulders were in the black tailcoat of superfine, and white embroidered waistcoat that emphasized his narrow waist and broad, well-muscled chest. Her mind’s eye saw what lay beneath. Hadn’t she seen him nearly
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