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“Are you determined to hate everyone in your life?” Reginald asked.
“No,” she replied. “My dearest Adeline may be spared my wrath, for she is a far better friend than I deserve.”
Reginald sighed and curled his hands around the bannister. “Well, Marcella—”
She felt the most delightful shiver when he said her name, as if Reginald had cast a spell with those three simple syllables and ensnared her with it.
“—shall we continue our tour? Let me show you the library. I know that’s where your passion truly lies, and I did mean what I said. You may fill it with whatever books you like.”
Marcella felt just a small spark of interest. Her whole expression brightened at the promise of books and the aforementioned library. “Lead the way, My Lord.”
“Reginald.”
“Sorry. Yes, Reginald,” she corrected.
Seeming satisfied, her husband quickened his pace and led her down the corridor. The paintings in the wall changed, landscapes became portraits and entire scenes. She recognized several figures from Greek myth. Which of Reginald’s ancestors was responsible for the artwork, she wondered?
Finally, they reached the end of the corridor. Reginald opened a door, made of solid wood and carved with unicorns and roses. He pushed it open, amidst a squeaking of hinges. Marcella’s breath caught in her throat. The rest of the manor was nice, but expected. This, however, was something else entirely.
She stepped forward until she reached the stair railing. The library spread out both above and below her. There were floors of books, all arranged in shelves which stretched upwards; they had to be at least six feet tall. On the lowest floor of the library, Marcella saw a fireplace and a scattering of comfortable-looking chairs. She could already imagine herself curled up in one of them, warm by the fire as she penned the next scene.
“I’ll confess that I never spent much time in this room,” Reginald said, his voice solemn. “I didn’t realize when I was young how rare of a commodity knowledge and an education were. If I had, I’d have been more eager to read these volumes.”
“It’s not your fault,” Marcella said. “You’re a man. The whole world is arranged to suit your needs. You could have the finest education in England with your name and your father’s money. Your money, now. It’s not the same for women.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“I rather think it ought to be,” Marcella replied. “How do we go down?”
“This way.”
Reginald led her around the floor until they reached a small staircase. Marcella followed him down and gazed in awe at the texts around her. There must have been thousands of books in his library. It was a pity that Reginald cared nothing for them. Otherwise, they might’ve had that in common.
They passed a maid, who was busily dusting the massive amount of tomes. She was young and red-haired. As Marcella passed, she dropped into a quick curtsey. “Welcome home, My Lord. My Lady.”
“Thank you,” Reginald said.
When Marcella glanced at him, he looked awkward, like he wasn’t entirely sure how to speak to his own staff. She could understand how he’d forgotten that while living in Southwark, but surely, he’d learned how already, hadn’t he? Maybe it was that this young woman washishired help and not someone else’s.
“And your name?” he asked.
“Anne Cartwright,” she replied. “I’ve been working for—or rather, I was working for—your cousin for six months.”
Reginald raised an eyebrow. “You’re quite new to the position, then.”
Anne blinked at him, looking baffled. “Most of us are, My Lord,” she replied.
“Are you?” Reginald asked.
Anne nodded, and she glanced fleetingly at Marcella, as if to ensure that she’d not somehow offended her. “My understanding is that no one stayed to work very long for your cousin. People found other positions elsewhere as quickly as they could, and your cousin—ah, I shouldn’t speak ill of him.”
“If he has wronged you, you very much should,” Reginald said. “I consider myself a fair man, and if my cousin has upset you, I’ll do everything I can to ensure that I do not likewise upset you.”
“He tended to dismiss staff often,” the maid replied awkwardly. “He and his mother.”
Itcouldbe difficult to find an efficient staff. Marcella knew that quite well from Claudia’s constant complaints about the subject. Perhaps that was why Lord Simon and Lady Greenburrow had been so quick to replace their servants. Maybe they had encounters and an unfortunate amount of people who were unsuitable for their positions.
“That’s interesting,” Reginald replied. “Do you have any idea why?”
