The Youngest Dowager: A Regency romance(11)
‘Er… Yes, well, what I wanted to speak to you about was the Dower House.’
‘I wanted to discuss that too. Poole tells me it is in good condition and well furnished, if not in the latest style. That will be rectified, but of course you must stay here for as long as you wish. I will be gone for many months, perhaps a year, in Jamaica, and when my sister and I return there will still be no need to drive you from your home. You have only to say which suite of apartments you wish to retain and they are yours.’
‘No.’ The word burst from her before she could contain it, and he looked at her in surprise. ‘I mean, no, thank you, Cousin Marcus. The Dower House will do me very well, and I intend to move there as soon as my companion, Miss Venables, arrives from Cumbria and the funeral party disperses.’
Marcus steepled his fingers and regarded her gravely over the top of them. ‘I do beg your pardon, Cousin. I should have realised that this house must hold unbearably painful memories for you now.’
Marissa dropped her gaze to her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. ‘Indeed, yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I will be glad to be gone from it.’ After a moment she rallied slightly and added, ‘But of course I will regard it as my duty to oversee the housekeeping here in your absence.’
Marcus noted her use of the word duty, yet again. She was young to be so serious about that. He could imagine her over the coming year, clad in her unrelieved mourning black, forcing herself day after day to revisit Southwood Hall in pursuit of her duty.
‘This is a charming room,’ he remarked, in an attempt to ease the tension. The colours were soft: rose-pinks, delphinium-blue, touches of coral. There was an Aubusson rug on the polished boards, the furniture was in the country style and the upholstery bore the marks of Gyp’s scrabbling claws. It was warm, cosy, slightly untidy, with books overflowing the table, the dog’s drinking bowl in the hearth, a sewing basket with the lid askew and skeins of thread spilling out.
‘It is a very untidy room.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘But then, my lord never came in here…’ She stopped, as if aware she was in danger of saying too much, revealing too much about herself.
Rather hastily she went on, ‘But the reason I wished to speak to you alone is the question of the servants. Mrs Whiting has told me that she and her husband are finding this big house too much for them now. They would like to come with me to the Dower House, but we are all conscious that you must have reliable people in place. Perhaps you will be bringing staff from Jamaica?’
‘I have my own butler, Edward Jackson: I could not leave him behind if I tried. If the Whitings wish to go with you, then they do so with my blessing. Is there a reliable couple you could recommend to take their place here temporarily? It will, after all, be very quiet for at least a year while I am away and you are in mourning.’
‘The butler at Grosvenor Square, Matthews, is a good man and Whiting considers him ready for greater responsibility. Besides, I imagine you will close the London house while you are away. However, he is unmarried, so you will need to engage a housekeeper. Mind you,’ Marissa added thoughtfully, ‘Mrs Wood, our cook here, is quite capable of managing the housekeeping while there is no one in residence. And with the Whitings close at hand, if she and Matthews have any difficulties they will have ready advice.’
Clearly satisfied with such a neat solution, Marissa sat back against the cushions with a sudden happy smile which illuminated her face and made her look absurdly young.
Gyp started out of his doze, as though the foot he was resting against had moved, and Marcus said abruptly, ‘An admirable solution. Shall we visit the Dower House after luncheon?’
Marissa asked Mrs Whiting to accompany them on their expedition to the Dower House. It was. of course, entirely proper to take a chaperone but that aside, Marissa recognised in herself a growing susceptibility to Marcus’s charm that made her wary of spending too much time alone with him. It would never do to become accustomed to his company, she chided herself.
The housekeeper was delighted at the opportunity to survey her future domain. ‘The Dower House was the home of Miss Anne Southwood for many years, my lord,’ she explained as the carriage made its cautious way along the frozen drive. The coachman was concerned about the horses’ legs on the iron-hard ground and the slow progress made the three occupants of the carriage glad of the foot-warmers and thick fur rugs they were wrapped up in.
‘She died just before you came here, my lady, if you recall. But the house has been well looked after, so we should not find much to concern us.’ She chatted on comfortably about how she had instructed the elderly married couple who had stayed on after their mistress had died to light fires and to clean and air all the rooms. ‘For once you let damp in, with us so close to the sea, my lord, you never get rid of it.’
‘It seems strange that we are so near to the sea yet cannot see it,’ Marcus remarked. ‘I can smell it when the wind is onshore, but I can neither hear nor see it, and I am used to doing both at home in Jamaica.’
‘Yes, the land rises so gently to the house, and there is over a mile of saltings and marsh before the beach, so that you must ride almost to the dunes before you see it,’ Marissa explained. ‘If it were not so cold I would suggest going down there, but the wind will cut like a knife beyond the protection of the trees.’