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“Their visit?” He found himself on the business end of one of Madam’s pointed looks. “I comprehend you have not read the letter from His Grace?” she asked.
“I have not.”
“I recommend you make yourself the master of its contents,” Madam said. “At your earliest convenience, of course.”
“Oh, of course,” he huffed.
Madam held her peace until the fullness of his churlishness reverberated around the room and returned to the perusal of her Schedule. “Lady Swinburn and I shall proceed with the finishing touches on the nursery. There is a small drawing room on the ground floor that has been refurbished. It is next to the master’s study.”
Morag exchanged an empty pot of tea for a full one. “That’s no drawing room, that’s what was the Beta’s study.”
“Morag,” Arthur said. “Do you never speak unless it is out of turn?”
She appeared to give that her full consideration. “No.”
Madam sailed on without acknowledging them. “Let us serve preprandial drinks in that room, Mr. Conlon, if you please. We shall see if formal gathering is its best use. Next, the kitchen garden is ready for sowing. Mr. Todd, were you to oversee this?”
“I was, ma’am,” he said. “Four of the Lowell footmen have undertaken its tending and await your verdict.”
“It is unfortunate we have missed Disting,” Arthur began and then gulped his tea.
“Disting?” Madam asked, her face the very picture of polite inquiry.
Charlotte’s eyebrows rose so high they were in danger of sliding round the back of her head. “It is a feast, Beezy,” she said, “observed by our kind at this time of year.”
“It means ‘the charming of the plough’ and is a high holiday, as we observe the Nordic pantheon,” Ben added. “The word is from an old northern tongue—”
“Do you wish to keep the use of your own old tongue?” Arthur threatened his brother.
“Whose tongue had it tripped off first, so trippingly?” Charlotte asked.
“Nordic?” Madam inquired. “Is that not where reindeer originate?”
Arthur turned to her. “I do hope I misunderstand your implication.”
“I would, of course, have no way of knowing whether you are of cervine persuasion,” Madam resumed, ignoring him as the children snickered. “Thank you, Mr. Todd. Now then, on to the morning room,” Madam began and parceled out the remaining tasks for the day.
***
The nursery was in order but for several small details and who was to be in charge of the children. They were quite taken with two of the footmen; would it be too odd to give them into their keeping? Beatrice had heard of no such thing in her life, men minding the young, but the lads were keen and patient and amusing as well as amused by the three, as evidenced by the clapping game they were conducting over in the corner. They would simply refer to Bernard and Christopher as the “children’s footmen.” Or perhaps the “footmaids.” “Nursemen”?
She huffed to herself, which Charlotte misinterpreted as they worked together, folding freshly laundered sheets.
“I do apologize, Beezy,” Charlotte said, for once looking truly regretful. “Ben and I tend to joke as children do.”
“I am unused to such behavior at table,” Beatrice replied. It was a wonder she could not see her breath before her, her tone was so cold. “My own behavior has always been above reproach, offering a reflection of good manners for my siblings that they may follow suit.”
“And look how happy it has made you.” Charlotte set aside the cloth they’d finished folding.
Beatrice sank onto the window seat. “I was expected to exhibit immaculate behavior and never betray the slightest emotion while my brothers sprawled about the place like a litter of mongrels.” She hid her face in her hands. “Oh, I am one grievance away from being no better than a tabbie or a dragon. I swore when I was naught but a green girl, I would never become like them.”
“There’s never been a society lass I’ve envied.” Charlotte sat beside her. “But for their embellishments, perhaps.” She reached out and touched one of the ribbons on Beatrice’s sleeve. “I grew up allowed to run wild in Court and often feel the coarser for it.”
“Is there no possibility of balance?” Beatrice tweaked Charlotte’s apron so it lay flat upon her lap. “I envy your laughter with Garben. Laughing with a husband! Whoever considered such a thing.”
“It is not all fun and games,” Charlotte promised.
“I envy your bond with him. That you made a love match.”
