My dear Constance,
I received your missive yesterday and immediately sent a rider north with instructions and the additional staff you sent. All shall be ready.
Your dear friend,
L.
Dowager Viscountess Featherton
Four days after bidding a tearful adieu to her grandmother and sneaking out of the inn they’d stayed in the previous night, Mary sat next to Aunt Eunice in her well-sprung yet nondescript traveling coach as they entered the bustling market town of Rosebury, Northumberland.
“See how lovely it is,” Eunice enthused as they passed well kept buildings adorned with window boxes of summer flowers.
“Charming.” Two days ago, Mary had given up arguing. The only thing she wanted now was to get out of this coach and go for a walk. She had never traveled so quickly in all her life.
Eunice, having learned the art of rapid travel from her mother, had stopped only to change horses, for which they never seemed to have to wait. Every day they had been in the coach until almost dark and rose with the dawn. Only the mail journeyed faster. “How much farther is Rose Hill?”
“Only a mile or so beyond the town to the east. Oh, look”—Eunice pointed as they traveled over a stone bridge—“there is the River Coquet.”
Perhaps Mary could still get out of this ridiculous charade. Pretend they were stranded due to a lame horse. Beg shelter for the night and leave early in the morning. Even if she could persuade Aunt Eunice to agree, where would she go?
“Now remember, my dear, walk in with your head held high as if you belong there.”
“I don’t suppose Grandmamma could have merely leased a house for a year.”
Eunice turned from the view out the window and peered closely at Mary. “Leasing might have left a trail. The fewer people who knowabout this the better. Trust Mama and me. This will all work out for the best.”
Much too soon the coach turned off the lane leading from Rosebury onto a rutted gravel drive. They bounced and jolted so hard that it was amazing their teeth didn’t chip. After being almost tossed off the seat, Mary grabbed hold of the carriage strap and held fast for at least ten minutes before they came to a stop before a lovely early Georgian manor. The house was built of sandstone. Columns and a portico graced the entrance. Roses scurried up the walls, almost obscuring some of the windows. The house was definitely in need of a mistress. A stately older man in a black suit stepped out, followed by two footmen who looked suspiciously familiar.
“Was this place fully staffed before?” Mary asked.
For the first time her aunt fidgeted, twisting the fringe on her shawl around her fingers. “Er, I’m notquitesure what arrangements were in place.”
Mary pressed her lips together. “I could swear I’ve seen those footmen before.”
“Well you see,” Eunice made a fluttering motion with her hand as if to send the question away, “Mama handled the specifics.”
Naturally. “I hope she remembered to hire some of the locals, or they will not be happy.”
“There, you see, Mary?” Her aunt gave a sunny smile. “That is just what Mama meant when she said you would know how to go on.Iwould never have thought of hiring the local people.” She patted Mary’s hand. “You will do very well here.”
Mary heaved a resigned sigh.
The coach door opened. One of the footmen lowered the steps then assisted her and her aunt to the ground.
The older man stepped forward and bowed. “My lady. Welcome home. Your lady’s maid has already arrived, and Rose Hill awaits your inspection. I am your butler, Simons.”
The rest of the staff lined up by rank. She scrutinized them, but they gave no indication they knew her. How in the world had Grandmamma arranged all of this in such a short time? Simons escorted her down the row of servants, making the introductions as Mary memorized each name and asked a question or two about their lives.
Finally the housekeeper, Mrs. Enderson, a short plump womanwith a ready smile whom Mary guessed to be in her early fifties, showed Mary to her rooms. “You’ll find a small parlor through the door to the left. The dressing room is on the right. Attached to that is a bathing chamber. I’ll send tea up while your bath is being made ready.” The woman’s smile grew larger. “My lady, may I say how happy we are to have you here? It is a shame Mr. Featherton has been held up in Town.”
Featherton?The only Feathertons she knew were . . . No, surely not. Grandmamma had said the person was of no consequence. England must be littered with Feathertons who were no relation tothoseFeathertons. And who had written the senior staff? It might behoove her to discover exactly what had been said. The difficulty was that in asking she might give herself away.
Mary gave herself an inner shake, smiled politely and pitched her voice in a manner that would suppress any more questions about Mr. Featherton, whoever he was. “Yes, a pity.”
Mrs. Enderson bobbed a curtsey and left.
Mary removed her bonnet and placed it on the dressing table. She’d hated using that tone with the housekeeper, who only meant well. Yet it would not do to have any of them questioning her so-called marriage. She would make it up to the woman later.
