Once Upon a Tower

Page 61

By the time Bardolph summoned her to the midday meal, she was reasonably certain that the household understood the way things were going to go from now on.
Meanwhile, Gowan deserted all the men in his study and engaged in a brief conversation with Védrines. It took only a couple of minutes to establish that Gowan would slaughter him if his eyes fell below the duchess’s neck.
“I would not,” the Frenchman stated. And then he added, rather defensively, “When one plays, one thinks only of the music, Your Grace. Though, of course, one’s concentration depends upon the musical abilities of one’s partner.”
A faint undertone implied that he was as uncertain of Edie’s musical prowess as she was of his. They both held their own playing in damned high esteem. Gowan took a good look at the Frenchman’s indignant eyes and realized that Védrines was no threat to his marriage. He didn’t think of Edie as a woman at all. There was some other currency in play here.
“Right,” he said, holding out his hand. “I offer you my sincerest apology for the insult.”
The man looked at his hand for a moment, but he took it. For some reason, Gowan liked that the most of all. Védrines was on the verge of walking out of the castle, even though he desperately needed the income. “What are we paying you?” he asked.
Védrines flushed, and named a sum. It must rub at the man to have to accept employment.
Gowan nodded. “From now on, we’ll pay you twice that.”
Védrines’s brows drew together. “Why, Your Grace?”
“Every castle should have a musician,” he said.
The young Frenchman pulled himself upright, although that put his eyes only at Gowan’s shoulder. “I should be remiss in my duty as a gentleman not to point out that you do your duchess a dishonor.”
“How so?”
“You imply base things. Her Grace is all that is gracious and virtuous.”
Gowan felt even more cheerful now. He had acquired an employee with just the right kind of reverence for his wife. “Just wait until you marry.”
“I shall both maintain and display faith in my bride,” the Frenchman said coldly.
“As do I,” Gowan assured him.
He wasn’t sure what to expect when he left his study for luncheon sometime later. Apparently, there had been quite a fracas. Bardolph had actually interrupted him to deliver a complaint, but Gowan had cut him off: the household was now the duchess’s domain.
The first person he encountered was Layla. “Did you really sleep in the nursery?” he asked.
“I did, and your servants sleep on deucedly hard mattresses, Gowan. I had to tell Barlumps to bring me a new mattress or I won’t be able to straighten my back tomorrow.”
“Bardolph,” Gowan corrected.
Edie entered the morning room, greeting him with a face that betrayed no irritation stemming from their earlier conversation. In fact, it betrayed nothing at all, which he found annoying. He had the trick of concealing his own feelings, but he didn’t appreciate it in his wife.
“How was your meeting with Mrs. Grisle?” he asked, as they sat down.
Edie smiled at the footman offering her a helping of cheese pudding. “I dismissed her.”
“What?” Whatever he expected, it wasn’t that his wife would toss out a housekeeper who had held the post for a decade. Not that Mrs. Grisle was particularly pleasant, or particularly efficient, but she didn’t steal the silver.
To his left, Layla drew Védrines into a conversation.
“Why did you dismiss her?” Gowan asked, reminding himself that marriage entailed sharing power, at least in the household.
“She was unable to trust herself to make decisions,” Edie replied, looking quite unperturbed. “She felt she had to constantly check with me and actually requested that I spend two hours with her every morning. I told her that I would be happy to give her a few minutes in the evening, but I did not wish to be interrupted during the day, and she was quite discomfited by that. Were you really giving her an hour or more daily?”
Gowan nodded.
“The housekeeper should report to the factor, if she must recapitulate her daily accomplishments,” Edie said, cutting up her roast beef. “Your time is far too valuable to waste learning whether the laundry is drying properly. And, frankly, so is mine.”
Something like a smile twitched at the corners of Gowan’s lips. He would have loved to witness that conversation.
“In the end, we agreed that it would be more comfortable if I found someone able to work in the manner to which I am accustomed. Mrs. Grisle was agitated by our conversation, which merely confirmed my decision. I cannot abide people who raise their voices when angry.”
That was reasonable. “Have you dismissed anyone else?” he inquired.
“Two upper housemaids, a kitchen maid, and a footman.”
“Have you tasked Bardolph with finding replacements?”
“No,” Edie said. “I am quite certain he can take that initiative without my having to prompt him. I did instruct him to give each a substantial severance payment. The morning was disruptive, but from now on, I expect the servants will be far more self-directed.”
Gowan wondered what the footman had done to offend, but decided there was nothing to be gained by asking.
“Hopefully, there will be no further need for encouragement on my part.” She smiled at him without a bit of irritation in her eyes. It was as if their battle of the morning had never happened. “You are probably thinking I am headstrong, but my excuse is that I took housekeeping lessons at Layla’s knee.”
She touched the back of Gowan’s hand and an embarrassing streak of heat shot from her touch. “The household will settle down once they know my ways.”
Gowan thought they might well be dealing with an entirely new group of servants by then, but, as Edie said, that was Bardolph’s problem.
Edie went upstairs to practice after the meal, and Gowan invited Layla to come to his study. She was wandering about looking rather critically at the towering stacks of ledgers on Bardolph’s desk, when he simply said what he’d been thinking.
“It seems to me that you and Susannah are enjoying each other’s company.”
Layla whipped around, her face more serious than he had ever seen it. “I love Susannah.” She came over to him, her face alight with determination. “I—”
He held up his hand. “I agree that you would be an entirely appropriate person to care for Susannah.”
“I don’t want to merely be her nanny,” Layla said firmly. “I am her mother.”
“Do you mean that you wish to adopt her?”
“Of course.”
He thought about it for a moment. His mother had never bothered to tell him of the child, but even so . . . “I would be quite uncomfortable if I were not responsible for her education, wardrobe, and other expenses.” He hesitated. “And I don’t want to lose her entirely.”
Layla smiled, a wide, generous smile without a trace of the coquette in it. “How could that be? Edie is one of my favorite people in the world, and the person my husband loves best. You will see far too much of us, I’m sure.”
“Very well. We can work out the formal side of it when Lord Gilchrist arrives.”