The house was a hive of activity. The staff was preparing for the arrival of guests. There was to be an extended house party—the first in a very long while—the first since before the death of the mistress. Guest rooms were to be opened up and prepared. Food needed to be planned for, wine selected, and the grounds spruced up. Windows needed washing and horses were to be ready in case the guests wanted a riding party.

Susan was visiting Clarissa for tea while Elizabeth was taking her nap.

“Do you know these guests who are visiting Haverford?” Susan asked, as she took a cucumber sandwich and put it on her saucer next to her cup.

“I do not. All that John told me was that one was a friend of his from university days. And I believe he is coming with a party returning from France.”

“I had been thinking to invite my friend Katherine to come visit me this week, but would that be disruptive with houseguests?”

“Actually, that might be a good idea, as the servants are already preparing for guests. One more, certainly, won’t matter. How long might she be staying?” Clarissa asked.

“Oh, I thought just one night. We want to have a good gossip and a sleepover—like a couple of kids. We’ll probably natter until the wee hours and get crumbs all over the bed. It’ll be such fun.”

“Will you need any help with Elizabeth while she’s here?”

“I don’t think so. Katherine wants to meet Elizabeth and see what I’m doing, so I’ll introduce her as a friend and she can participate or watch depending on what we’re doing that day.”

“More tea?” Clarissa asked.

“Yes, please.”

Clarissa poured.

“I have to say these guests seem to be coming at a most awkward time. The Duke has already started the sheering which will continue for a week or two longer—with long, sweaty hours each day. How ever will he be able to entertain?” Susan asked.

“I think his workers will do most of the actual sheering. He’ll mostly be supervising. And he has a good crew who knows what they’re doing. If he needs to spend time with his guests, I’m sure he’ll be able to arrange that.”

“You see; I’m used to the way my Papa does things. He’s a much smaller sheep operation and he and my brother do almost everything by themselves.”

Susan noticed the time.

“I must wake Elizabeth or she’ll be too jumpy later and won’t want to go to bed at her usual time.” Susan stood to leave. She looked at Clarissa and a wave of affection surged through her. She went over and gave Clarissa a hug.

“You have been so wonderful I feel like you are family and I want you to know how grateful I am for all you’ve done for me.”

Clarissa patted Susan’s cheek.

“Thank you, my dear. I couldn’t ask for a better friend than you. Having you around brightens everything.”

* * *

The carriage pulled up in front of Haverford House mid-Saturday morning as expected. John was dressed rather more formally than his usual casual work clothes.

Standish and an array of footmen were standing by to attend to the guests and their luggage.

First out of the carriage was John’s friend, Bentley Comerford, O.B.E.—John’s old college friend. He was not portly but he was well rounded. He had shaggy, sandy hair and freckles. His large ears stood out from the side of his head, branding him with the title of windmill since he was a lad in public school.

“John!” he exclaimed, extending his hand.

“Bentley, welcome,” John replied. “Did you have a good crossing?”

“Excellent. Smooth as a lady’s bottom,” Bentley said, vigorously shaking John’s hand.

Next, helped out of the carriage, was Bentley’s wife, Patricia—a diminutive, mousy woman with tiny eyes who wheezed when she became excited, as she was now.

Bentley reached out his hand to his wife. “You remember my wife, Patricia, do you not?”

“Most certainly,” John replied. “What a pleasure to see you again. And how are your darling children?”

She giggled as she answered, “Like little squirrels, jumping from branch to branch. Never still. You know.”

“I see. Well, you are most welcome. I hope you have an enjoyable stay at Haverford House.”

“I’m sure we shall.”

Next out of the carriage was Sir Andrew Cull, who turned to help his companion, Fiona Fitzwilliam stepped down. They came forward to meet John.

“John Chamberlain,” he said, introducing himself.

Sir Andrew gave a deep bow. “Your Grace, I am Sir Andrew Cull, at your sincere service.”

This seemed overly formal to John, but he nodded in return. “Sir Andrew, a great pleasure.”

Sir Andrew was most unlike his mousy sister, Patricia. He was relatively tall and quite handsome. He had his long, black hair pulled back from his lean face. He had rather penetrating eyes, and John couldn’t help but think of the eyes of a fox, watching the hen house.

Sir Andrew turned to his companion. “And this is my dear friend, Miss Fiona Fitzwilliam.”

“At your service,” John said, nodding.”

“Your Grace,” she said in a whisky voice, with a sly smile, curtsying slightly, but keeping her eyes glued to John’s face. “But please, everyone dear to me calls me Fitz.”

Fiona was a stunningly handsome woman. She had quite lovely red hair, exquisitely done up. She was slender and wore a form fitting dress that showed off her ample cleavage to its best advantage. She knew what she had and how to show it off.

“Welcome, John said to them all. “Won’t you please come inside? Let us celebrate your arrival with a glass of wine, and then Standish will show you to your rooms.”

As they were entering the house, Fitz maneuvered close to John, and placing her hand on his arm, quietly said, “Sir Andrew and I require separate rooms in case you’ve arranged otherwise.”

John turned to her. “Of course, Miss Fitz. I assumed as much.”

She nodded, and smiled sweetly, lowering her eyes but keeping him clearly in her sight as she followed the others inside.

The company went into the sitting room where Standish was serving glasses of a cold white wine. John went over to where Bentley and Patricia were standing.

“How was Paris?” he asked. “It’s been a number of years since I was last there. Bonaparte had been banished to Elba by then. Have things changed much since he’s gone?”

“Don’t know much about that, old man,” Bentley said. “Politics has never been my strong point. We were there for pure recreation. Let the Frenchies have their revolutions and wars. We were only interested in wine, song, and gaiety.”

John was beginning to wonder if it was Bentley who had changed so much, or was it him? Had they really been close friends? Bentley seemed supremely superficial and now John was beginning to dread their visit. But he was determined to be the perfect host as long as necessary.

He turned to Patricia. “I’ve not met your brother before. Do you have other family?”

“He’s my only sibling. Mother passed away several years ago and my father lives with us in London.”

“My sympathies.”

“Thank you.”

John turned to Bentley, “You must forgive me, I am in the middle of the sheering season and that will require me to be absent for part of each day. However, Standish will be at your service should you require anything or if you would like to go riding or walking. And feel free to explore the house. It has some fine treasures you might enjoy.”

“How about some shooting? Rather fancy taking down a covey or two.”

“We can arrange for that. I’ll make time in my schedule to do that.”

Sir Andrew and Fitz came over to where Standish was standing by to refill their glasses. After topping up, Fitz came over to John.

“Are we to have any dancing?” She asked, placing her hand on John’s arm again. “I always enjoy a turn around the floor.”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Fitz. We in the country are more prone to quiet evenings of reading, conversation, and then early to bed.”

“Early to bed sounds nice,” she said, letting the implication linger in the air.

John couldn’t help but notice what a handsome woman she was. That reminded him of the fair Miss Susan. But she had her Captain, as he had learned recently, and was unavailable. And that led him to think about how difficult it was to meet fine women, stuck out here on his vast estate far from the social whirl of London.

John turned to address the group. “You must excuse me. I must do a bit of work before play. Standish will show you to your rooms and we shall meet up again at teatime. Please enjoy yourselves and I shall see you all later.” Then he turned and left.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon, just before Elizabeth’s nap when the schoolroom door opened and an unknown man and woman appeared.

“Hello,” the woman said leaning into the room. “May we?”

Susan had no idea who she was but guessed she was one of John’s guests.

“Please do. We are doing sums.”

“I am Miss Fitzwilliam and this is Sir Andrew,” she said as she ushered herself into the room, followed by Andrew.

Elizabeth was not quite sure about this and she withdrew into herself and turned away. Susan, of course, saw that and she placed her hand on Elizabeth’s back.

“Oh look,” Fitz exclaimed as she rushed over to the window overlooking the park. “They have a lake. We must take a paddle, what do you say?” she addressed Andrew.

He went over, totally disregarding Susan and Elizabeth and gazed out the window.

“My dear, you have the most arcane notions. Why ever would I want to paddle? I’m no longer six-years-old.”

“It would be fun. We are in the country. We should do country type things, don’t you think?”

“Excuse me,” Susan said. “I’m giving a lesson right now. If you’d like to sit and observe, that would be fine.”

Fitz turned and looked at Susan and Elizabeth like they were an exhibit in a zoo. “What are you teaching?”

“Sums. It’s almost nap time, and we need to finish up,” Susan said firmly.

Fitz turned to Andrew. “Nap time, good heavens. Nanny is going to scold us and not give us our hot milk and biscuits if we are not good little girls.”

“Speak for yourself,” Andrew squeaked as he flipped his hand at Fitz’s shoulder.

“I think we’d better go,” she said in a mock whisper. “I can see the help is uppity.”

Susan was shocked at their rudeness as they flounced out of the room.

She turned to Elizabeth who was now crying. She would need to have a word with John about his guests and their manners.

* * *

Susan was so relieved to await Katherine’s arrival the next morning. Even though she had been expected to attend dinner the evening before with the guests, Susan excused herself. She was still burning with anger at that Fitzwilliam woman and Sir Andrew. She knew she could not be polite and told Clarissa she was not feeling well and asked to be excused. Susan had thought it best not to give Clarissa an accurate account of her encounter with John’s guests. As she reminded herself, she was, after all… just the help.

Susan had her coat wrapped tightly around her as she waited outside Haverford House, and was overjoyed when she finally spotted Katherine riding up the driveway in her trap.

Susan had alerted a groom to take the horse and trap when Katherine arrived and he stood by.

“Oh, Susan, it’s so good to see you again,” Katherine said as she jumped down and went over to give Susan a hug.

“You look marvelous,” Susan said. “Have you lost some weight?”

“I’m trying to. I tried on Grand mamma’s wedding gown and if I want to wear it I must do something.”

They ran up the steps and into the house. Katherine stopped dead in her tracks and looked around the impressive entryway with its marble staircase and painted cupola with its Greek gods, goddesses, and painted cherubs.

“Oh, my, Susan. You live here?”

“I do. Impressive isn’t it?”

“It certainly is.”

Just then Bentley and Patricia descend the staircase on their way to a late breakfast.

“Hello,” Patricia said. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Susan Wilton. I’m the nanny tutor for John’s little girl.”

“Oh, charming to meet you,” Patricia said, but obviously shocked to be speaking with a nanny.

“Good day,” Bentley said, nodding and leading his wife away.

Katherine looked at Susan and mugged. “La dee da. But aren’t we the hoi palloi?”

“Now, Katherine, these are John’s guests. They can’t help themselves,” she said mischievously.

They giggled and ran up the stairs to Susan’s room.

“Oh, my case, I left in the trap,” Katherine said as they entered Susan’s room.

“Not to worry, someone will bring it up.”

Katherine wagged her head. “I keep forgetting I don’t need to do everything myself here.”

She went over to the window and looked out at the park.

“How beautiful. Can we go for a walk later?”

“Certainly. You are my guest, and your wish is my command.

Katherine threw herself into one of Susan’s chairs. “What time do you need to teach?”

“Not until ten. Have you had breakfast?”

“I have. My single egg and a piece of toast. No butter, no jam. Ugh.”

“I’m sorry, but you do look wonderful.”

“Thank you.”

Katherine suddenly became animated. “Oh, oh, I have something for you.” But she stopped herself. “I forgot. It’s in my case. I’ll give it to you later.”

“What is it?”

“A little present from Daniel. He drove us all crazy before he left trying to find just the right memento to give you.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. He had it wrapped.”

“And how are your wedding plans going?”

“Slow. But I don’t mind. We still have months yet,” Katherine said.

Susan asked shyly. “Have you heard anything from Daniel? I assume he’s sailed by now.”

“Oh, yes. I’m sure he’s sailed, but we’ve not heard a word since. Have you?”

“I had a letter from him as he was leaving. But nothing since.”

“It’s so difficult. They are a long time at sea with no way to post a letter. Then they hit a port and post it and it takes another long voyage, from who knows where, until it arrives in Britain.”

“Maybe someday someone will invent a way to send messages in an instant,” Susan daydreamed.

“Yeah, when pigs fly.”

Susan looked at the clock on her mantel. “Oh, Katherine, I must collect Elizabeth. It’s time to start class. Want to come along?”

“Most certainly.”