Chapter Eight

 

 

Harriet’s heart felt as if it lurked somewhere close to her back teeth as she crept into Letitia’s room that evening.

Dinner was ongoing, the family were gathered in one place, and it was indeed the ideal moment for a maid to straighten her mistress’s boudoir for the night ahead. There weren’t many other maids, but one was doing the same thing for Lady Rosaline. They would all meet later downstairs in the servants’ hall for their supper.

So, ever conscientious, Harriet laid out Letitia’s nightgown and wrapper, made sure there was fresh water in the ewer, and that the items on her bureau were all in order.

Then she scurried to the chest at the foot of the bed, which was where Harriet knew she secreted her most precious possessions. Although she’d not spoken of this to Harriet, Letitia had unknowingly revealed the hideaway one day when retrieving one of her few pieces of precious jewellery…a small pearl pendant that had belonged to her grandmother, she’d said.

It was at that point that Harriet had seen the false bottom inside the trunk. And had glimpsed many sheets of paper. She was almost positive that on this evening, she would find the manuscripts of Letitia’s book within.

She was right. There were three boxes, which matched what she knew about the number of copies. Although when she’d met Letitia, only one larger packet had been visible. Removing one of them and gently untying the ribbon, she guessed that Letitia herself had sorted and boxed them. It was the sort of thing she’d do and the contents of the trunk validated that assumption, since they were in neat piles that were easily moved for access to the hidden layers beneath.

A brief glance at the cover page reassured her. It was indeed the book, and the word “COPY” was inscribed in red ink across the top. Perfect.

Carefully, Harriet removed the contents and replaced the empty box at the very bottom of the pile, hoping that if Letitia took out her book to work on it, she would remove the one on top and not notice that one box was empty.

Thus left with a sheaf of papers, she put them gently on the bed, and then restored the trunk to its customary position.

The next step would be to go to the library; this would be problematic, since it was on the ground floor, too near the dining room for her liking. But she had no other options. Thus she crept silently from Letitia’s rooms along the corridor and down the servant’s staircase, hearing conversation from their quarters, but silence from the rest of the house.

Which was just what she’d hoped.

Emerging into the hall, she heard laughter; this time from the dinner guests. All was as it should be and she hurried to the library, praying the door didn’t squeak too much.

Inside, she went straight to the shelf where older books were stored, along with some that were about to lose their contents due to neglect. There were several boards lying on that shelf; covers that no longer contained the pages they once so carefully protected. And two of these were ideal for Harriet’s needs.

She selected the nearest in size to the papers she carried, slipped them over the manuscript and tied a small piece of string around the whole. Once assembled, it looked like an ordinary—if battered—volume, and this was how she would treat it as she passed it to Sir James.

Or that was how it was supposed to happen.

She tried to banish the feeling that she was betraying Letitia’s trust. Logically, this was the wisest course, since in all probability he would understand what Letitia’s intentions were and, with luck, step in and offer himself as a volunteer.

Harriet prayed she had not misinterpreted her reading of his interest in Letitia. There were so many things that might go wrong, and if Letitia were hurt in any way—well, Harriet shuddered at the thought she might be responsible.

But the shudders were far worse when she imagined Letitia being seduced by a man she barely knew, just to experience the sensation for her book.

No, that was absolutely not going to happen.

Tucking the volume into the enormous pocket of her maid’s apron, she retraced her steps out into the hall and hurried to the alcove where Chidwell would have placed the guests’ outerwear.

Another unpleasant shock hit her as she realized she might not recognize Sir James’s coat, but her luck still held. There it was, the dark grey with a pale grey trim and silver buttons. The others were quite different, so she was sure it was his. And it also featured large pockets, so beloved of stylish country gentlemen.

So she carefully tucked the book away, knowing that he would sense its presence as soon as he picked up the garment.

It was the best she could do.

With a deep breath she walked away. The die was cast. Now it was up to Sir James. He would not fail to respond to this book, would he?

Dear Lord. Let him be the man I think he is…

 

*~~*~~*

 

Dinner was delightful, thought Letitia, as she found herself next to James at the table, with her brother on the other side.

Edmund took the head as always, with Rosaline to his right since this was an informal gathering of family and close friends. Next to Rosaline was Paul, a smile on his face that could probably have lit up the room every bit as well as the candles flickering from the chandelier.

Simon and Tabby would be dining at the Rectory as usual. Their visits were many, but their devotion was to each other. They were setting up their own family traditions, which was—of course—exactly as it should be.

Hecate’s place was vacant; she had taken yet another trip up to London to stay with Kitty

Letitia wondered about that as she finished her excellent leek soup. Hecate was old enough to be out, of course. In fact, she was old enough to be considered ‘on the shelf’ compared to the current crop of debutantes. But she was still childlike in many ways…how was she faring? And what was the attraction that kept her traveling the roads between Ridlington and the metropolis?

She had never said.

And that, realized Letitia, summarized many of the relationships in this family. Loving, always. But also secretive. Jack Ridlington’s legacy to his offspring. I don’t care about your secrets so why should anyone else?

An attitude that had lingered in all of them. Wasn’t she sitting here at the table this exact moment with her own gargantuan secret?

“You’re unusually silent, Letitia.” James nudged her. “I believe we’re supposed to make polite conversation.” He grinned. “I’ll start. Delicious soup, isn’t it?”

She glanced up and shot him a quick smile. “How kind of you to remark upon the excellence of the soup, sir. Indeed, it is most palatable.”

He rolled his eyes. “Stop it.”

“You started it.”

“Children.” Rosaline eyed them across the table.

“Yes, ma’am.” James looked repentant. “I’m simply engaged in drawing our reticent Miss Letitia into some polite dinner conversation.”

“Well, I suppose that’s better than drawing her into impolite conversation,” quipped Paul.

“But a lot less interesting,” countered James.

“Speaking of polite,” Rosaline interrupted with firm tones, “how is your new maid coming along, Letitia? She seems quite competent.”

Letitia nodded and allowed a footman to replace her soup plate with a clean one. “She’s very good indeed, Rosaline. I was most fortunate to be in the right place at the right time as far as she was concerned, and I think our meeting was truly a beneficial act of Fate.”

“The fact she wants no wages is enough for me,” muttered Edmund. “I’m trying to persuade the rest of the staff to adopt the same beliefs, but they’re having none of it. Eh, Chidwell?”

Chidwell, who stood by the sideboard as dinner was served, cast his master a scornful look. “Your Lordship’s humour is always most amusing and appreciated by all of us, sir.”

“He has you there, Edmund.” Paul chuckled.

Edmund sighed. “Oh well. I do believe we can scrape up enough pennies to survive yet another month.”

He was indeed jesting, Letitia knew. Certainly the additional burden of wages for her maid would not have helped the planned recovery of Ridlington Chase, but overall their situation had improved drastically since Edmund had acceded to the Barony.

“Speaking of pennies,” Rosaline turned to her brother. “What is the news from London as to your situation, Paul?”

He shrugged. “It crawls, my dear. It just crawls along like a slug. I am learning that although they are no longer persona grata in society, the von Rillenbach family still commands enough power abroad that many would prefer not to offer insult. Especially at this point with the situation in France so tenuous.”

“Damned Napoleon,” offered James.

“Indeed,” nodded Paul. “However progress is being made, albeit at the speed of aforementioned slug.” He took a bite of his dinner.

“How fast do slugs move?” Letitia ponded aloud. “One has to assume that they do actually have a destination in mind when they start crawling. Do they feel it a slow journey? Or is their crawl like a trot on a good mare for us?”

Silence fell as everyone looked at her with varying expressions of confusion and curiosity.

“Well, I just wondered,” she said defensively.

“Back to the topic at hand,” said Edmund, shaking his head at the odd turn of conversation. “Will you stand to inherit a title, Paul?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.” Paul frowned. “The DeVoreaux line has substantial holdings, most of which are currently in some sort of frozen state, either rented or held by distant relatives. That’s a mess that will need to be sorted out by an army of lawyers, most probably.”

“Financially…how is it looking?” Rosaline asked her brother. “And I inquire as your beloved sister, not as the almost-destitute Baroness, of course.”

The laugh was general and followed by Paul putting down his knife and fork and throwing an arm around his sister’s shoulders. “I completely understand, my dear.”

“Seriously though, Paul.” Edmund leaned back in his chair. “You know there is a place for you here with us.”

“And at FitzArden Hall, as well,” added James. “He’s put his name on a suite there, by virtue of the many favours he’s done for me during the building of the darn thing. I couldn’t be where I am now without his help obtaining all kinds of things from all sorts of people in town.”

“So there you have it.” Paul spread his hands. “I am well taken care of, at the moment. And I have hopes that some of the DeVoreaux investments will begin to trickle my way by the new year. In that, at least, the transfers are being done quietly and privately. The Ton might get a tad gossipy about my taking up residence in the DeVoreaux town home in Mayfair, but won’t even notice if I acquire a goodly number of shares on ‘Change.”

“Good, then things are moving, slug-speed notwithstanding.” Rosaline smiled. “’Tis good to know, Paul. You are my brother, after all.”

“And knowing I have family now?” He glanced around the table. “That is enormous. Thank you all.”

“Well, I think it’s time to withdraw?” Rosaline touched her lips with her napkin and allowed the omniscient Chidwell to pull her chair back as she stood.

“I refuse to let the gentlemen desert us, Rosaline.” Letitia lifted her chin. “And I would like brandy, instead of tea. I’m not sure why they get to enjoy it by themselves…”

“Good point.” Rosaline linked arms with Edmund and smiled warmly at him. “We shall withdraw together, although I’d prefer tea. I do have an obligation to the tadpole…”

Paul choked. “For God’s sake, is that your nickname for your husband?”

Standing at the door of the parlour, awaiting the after-dinner arrival of her mistress, Harriet heard the burst of laughter and smiled. This was indeed a close-knit family who shared more than she’d imagined could be possible, including laughter.

It was a strange notion, but a pleasant one to a woman who’d had nothing in the way of family at all for too many years. And for a few moments she forgot that she was about to deliver a highly private document to a gentleman who shouldn’t have been reading it without the author’s permission.

And she was doing all that so that her mistress could learn about passion and desire from the only man Harriet considered worthy of instructing her. Again, a highly improper state of affairs.

The consequent question remained unanswered. After all, when had life ever been proper for any of them?