“Ah,” Mrs. Broadbent said, “I should not have been so frank inthismatter, I see. It’s just that, you strike me as a lady who might appreciate directness.”
“You are right in thinking it,” Daisy said, collecting herself. “Now, I will be direct withyou. The duke and his son have loaned me some servants—Mr. Bellamy, he is the butler, and Gerald and Tom, the two footmen. I would like to hire a housekeeper who can keep them in order. I know, of course, that the butler is supposed to be the senior servant, but this is an unusual case as he is not my own and he has been used to working for a bachelor.”
Mrs. Broadbent set her cup down with a clatter. “I understand you perfectly. You wish to employ a lady who, through sheer force and energy, will cow those fellows into some semblance of a respectable staff.”
“Well…yes,” Daisy said. She had not put it into precisely those words, but thatwaswhat she wanted done.
“Look no further, Miss Danworth,” Mrs. Broadbent said, “though the earl’s butler was nominally in charge, it wasmeeverybody came to. And why? Well, I simply over-ran the man with questions and notations and comments until he made a hasty retreat.Thatis what manages men—requiring them to justify themselves day and night. In the end, they are rather weak creatures who cannot bear the onslaught.”
Daisy had not the first idea if that were true, but she was delighted that Mrs. Broadbent thought so.
“Also, I have a lady’s maid, Betsy,” Daisy said, “she has been with me through some difficult times, and I wish to know that she might be made comfortable in the house.”
Mrs. Broadbent nodded knowingly. “A favorite. I understand you. We may think servants and masters are standing on the opposite sides of a great divide, but there are times when the two come to depend upon one another. What Betsy will require is a calm atmosphere, a kind and steady hand to guide her, and a formidable housekeeper to stand in front of her, depend upon it.”
“I think you will do very well, Mrs. Broadbent,” she said.
“I will do better than very well, Miss Danworth,” Mrs. Broadbent said. “I always aspire to excellence, nothing else will suffice. Now, might I suggest that I interview the housemaids? We will want pliable girls who know their place and do not dare to attempt any lording it over Betsy—a lady’s maid must have her proper place in the rank.”
Daisy nodded, exceedingly relieved by the suggestion. “We also need to hire a cook and kitchen maids, may I suppose you might oversee that as well?”
“Naturally,” Mrs. Broadbent said. “I happen to know that the earl’s cook does not travel with him to India, he informed the earl that he could not cook with foreign ingredients if one were to point the barrel of a gun between his eyes. He’s an emotional creature, cooks always are you know, but I can vouch for his skills. He may cry in the kitchen and throw a pot if a sauce curdles, but the food hedoessend up is always first rate. As for the kitchen maids, there are no end of them wanting employment—we will simply hire those that do not mind ducking the occasional pot.”
Though Daisy had somewhat dreaded interviewing the servants, it had all come out highly satisfactory. She had full confidence in Mrs. Broadbent. Betsy was sure to get on with the lady and Bellamy…well, he could just fall in line or face her energetic questions, notations, and comments.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A week had passed uneventfully, other than Bellamy and Tate grumbling over various circumstances that Charles could not be much bothered to hear about. Bellamy was forever blathering about some contretemps or other with Mrs. Broadbent, Tate was mostly put out about the cat hair that now seemed to be everywhere.
Charles was doing his best to attend to the pile of correspondence that lay on the makeshift desk in the cottage while the cat ate a piece of chicken at his feet. He found he kept losing his train of thought as the sounds of the recently delivered pianoforte being played reached him through the open windows of the main house.
He’d not known that Miss Danworth was particularly skilled on the instrument, she had never been one of those young ladies who pushed forward to play whenever the opportunity presented itself. He’d given her some amount of credit for that—who forced to listen was not painfully bored as one miss after the next showed off her very middling skills? Some of them even sang, to add to the racket. If that were not tedious enough, at the end of it there were the expected compliments to be doled out while the girl blushed and pretended she’d never heard anything so shocking.
The only time he had heard Miss Danworth play had been toward the end of an evening and she’d been practically forced to it. She’d played a quiet Irish air that had in no way indicated the skill he heard just now. It was as if her fingers flew across the keys.
The door swung open and Bellamy came through. “My lord,” he said.
“I do not need anything just now,” Charles said.
Despite this dismissal, Bellamy stood staring at him. Charles sighed. “What is it?” he asked.
“My lord, you have no idea what goes on in that house!”
“Am I to understand that you wish to tell me, though I have no wish to hear it?”
Charles hardly needed to have asked, as Bellamy was already pacing the floor. “That Mrs. Broadbent! She is a terror! For one thing, she is everywhere. One cannot turn a corner in peace without running into her. For another, she questions everything—why do the boys not sit up straighter at breakfast? Why is there a smudge on one of their neckcloths? How late are the boys up at night and is that really for their good health?”
Charles had not the first idea why he was to know or care in what manner the new housekeeper was harassing his butler.
“Then,” Bellamy went on, “we are all to tiptoe round the cook so he doesn’t get upset. He’s an Irishman! Where did they find an Irishman and why am I to worry about Mr. Flanagan’s feelings!”
Charles had no idea where they’d found an Irishman, nor was he particularly outraged. He’d done some shooting there and had found them a remarkably pleasant people, despite what anybody else said about it.
“He is a Catholic! He does not say so, but I know it. He must be.”
“See he doesn’t make you a convert, then,” Charles said.
“Oh, and becauseshehired them all, they all look toher!” Bellamy said, ignoring the idea that he might soon be turned into a papist. “The cook, the maids, everybody! I say a thing, and they all look toher.”
