“Or Violet,” I said. “Or Cecily. Or Olivia Barnsley.”
“Lady Violet is in the garden with Lord Geoffrey,” Nellie said, “and Miss Fletcher is in her room with Mr. Rivers.”
Was she really? The two of them hadn’t looked like they were flirting earlier, but perhaps I had misunderstood something. Or perhaps Cecily was the reason Dom Rivers was here. If so, her appearance earlier—pale and tired, with dark circles under her eyes—was certainly no advertisement for his services.
It was none of my concern, however, so I merely said, “Crispin is with Laetitia, I suppose?”
“No, Miss Darling,” Nellie said. “Lord St George excused himself to his room.”
Oh, had he? I exchanged a glance with Constance, who rolled her eyes. “That can’t have made Laetitia happy.”
“No, Miss Constance,” Nellie agreed. “Miss Laetitia tried to talk Lord St George into coming in with her, but he pleaded a headache.”
Of course he did, the coward. Trying to put off the inevitable, no doubt. I snorted.
“Don’t be unkind, Pippa,” Constance admonished. “I’m sure this is an adjustment for both of them.”
“I’m sure it is. I just find it funny that after proposing and being accepted, now he’s doing everything in his power to stay clear of her.” As if that was going to be an option after December.
Constance gave me a jaundiced look before turning back to Nellie. “How long have you been here at the manor, Nellie?”
She herself had lived across the valley at the Dower House until early May, so Nellie must have arrived since that time, I assumed, or Constance would already know the answer.
And indeed, Nellie explained that she was new to the manor; she had only been in the Marsdens’ employ for a month.
“Has anyone bothered to warn you about Geoffrey?” I wanted to know, since Constance had told me all about the speed with which Lord Geoffrey moves through the female staff. Nellie would be particularly exposed, I figured, being both quite young and quite pretty.
“Yes, Miss Darling.” She looked a bit uncomfortable to be asked, although she answered the question readily enough. “Mrs. Frobisher?—”
“The housekeeper,” Constance interjected.
Nellie nodded. “—told me that Jane?—”
“The previous chambermaid.”
“—was let go because of Lord Geoffrey, so if I value my job, I should keep my distance.”
I snorted. Well, that was typical, wasn’t it? “It’s easier said than done to keep your distance, when someone isn’t inclined to give you space to keep yourself to yourself.”
Nellie didn’t answer, and I added, persuasively, “You can tell us, you know. Miss Constance can talk to Mrs. Frobisher and make sure that she knows it isn’t your fault and that Geoffrey’s being a bother.”
I had no idea whether the housekeeper would believe that—likely not—or what she could do about it if she did, but at the moment I was really just saying whatever I thought I had to, to put Nellie at ease so she would feel comfortable enough to be honest with us.
She looked a bit discomfited, but she shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, Miss Darling. No one is bothering me. Although Miss Laetitia warned me to stay away from her new fiancé last week, too.”
“It’s the curse of being young and pretty,” I told her. “Although you don’t have to worry about Lord St George. He has his faults, but seducing the staff isn’t one of them.”
“No, Miss Darling.”
“Although Laetitia isn’t likely to be understanding, so it’s probably best if you keep a wide berth there, too. Just to avoid upsetting her.” She was liable to be more of a problem than Crispin, as far as Nellie was concerned.
The maid nodded. “Yes, Miss Darling.” She flicked a glance at the door, outside which there was the sound of footsteps and a soft laugh. Over our heads, the ceiling squeaked as someone crossed their bedroom floor.
“You may go, Nellie,” Constance said. “Miss Darling and I can manage on our own tonight.”
“Yes, Miss Constance.” Nellie withdrew. The door shut behind her with nary a snick of the lock.
We sat in silence for a moment before Constance sighed. “I never know whether to warn them or not. It always makes me feel guilty, whether I do it or I don’t.”
