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“Excellent.” Mrs. Booth hesitated. “Miss Roberts has packed her things and carried them downstairs. She suggested that instead of waiting for a cottage, she just take a room in the village.”
Alec suppressed a sigh. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her feelings. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time—”
“She’s a very nice girl.”
“Agreed, and there was nothing personal in my comment to Mrs. Johnson. I would have said the same thing about anyone staying here. I was not expecting to be entertaining on my first night back.”
“Just remember that you were the one that invited her to dinner,” the housekeeper said quietly before exiting Alec’s office.
As she closed the door behind her, he rubbed his forehead. He hadn’t slept well. He never slept well the first few nights back at Langley. His apartment in London was comfortable, as well as sophisticated and modern, with the best of technology, the best heating, instant hot water, and little luxuries that he’d come to take for granted—until he returned here to the home of the Sherbournes.
As a boy, he’d thought everyone lived in a place like Langley Park and it wasn’t until he was older, and invited to spend summer holidays with friends, that he realized his family home was more uncomfortable than comfortable. And, yes, there had been a number of renovations over the years, but even with the addition of a dozen furnaces, and new plumbing, the vast size of rooms meant that one was almost always cold, and at night there were always strange noises. Of course, a housefour hundred years old would have strange noises. Foundations settling. Old timber creaking. Ancient windows that rattled. He had done his best to update and modernize wherever he could, but it was impossible to take a fifty-room manor with twenty-odd bedrooms, and redo it all. He wasn’t short of cash, but at the same time, he wasn’t going to bankrupt himself trying to keep up with the Joneses, or in this case, Chatsworth, which was really the grand dame of the county.
Sighing, Alec rose from his desk and went in search of Mrs. Booth, who was now downstairs in the small suite of rooms set aside for the housekeeper. There was another suite for the butler, if they had a butler. Mrs. Johnson had been offered those rooms, but instead she wanted to have the apartment over the old stables as she preferred being up high and liked the vaulted ceiling.
Mrs. Booth was on the phone, the old landline, when he knocked lightly on her open door. She quickly ended the call and stood. “You should have sent for me if you wanted me—”
“I know you’re displeased with me,” he said, gesturing for her to sit. She did, but not until he’d taking he armchair in the corner.
“You’ve had a rough start today, sir. I’m certain the day will improve.”
He glanced around, amazed at how timeless this part of the house was. The arched ceiling and stone walls dated back to the medieval period. None of the renovations ever included the lower kitchen or staff rooms downstairs. “You didn’t have to end your call so abruptly.”
“It was just my daughter, checking in on my arrival time.”
“I’m glad you’ll be with your family again this year. It’s been a couple of years.”
“Between pandemics and illnesses, it hasn’t been easy, has it?” she said.
Alec had known Mrs. Booth his entire life. Her parents had both lived and worked on the estate, and he’d always felt a special kinship with Mrs. Booth, as if she was a second mother. Or the mother he’d always wanted but didn’t have.
“I intend to apologize to Miss Roberts,” he said, meaning it. “I’m not happy that I hurt her feelings, because clearly I have.”
“You don’t need to explain to me. I work for you.”
“And you’ve known me forever. You are more family to me than my own family.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that,” Mrs. Booth retorted, smiling.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, and I also know how trying this time of year is for you. But Miss Roberts will soon be in her cottage and happy. Mrs. Johnson is making her a nice basket of biscuits and scones to send to her cottage with a jar of her berry jam so Miss Roberts will have a nice English tea this afternoon.”
“I know the cottages bring in revenue, but this year they’d been quite problematic.”
“The renovations have thrown the bookings off, which has created headaches for everyone. As you know, we’re often booked out a year in advance for Christmas and New Year’s, as well as the popular summer months, so when a cottage is no longer available due to repairs, it impacts everything.”
“Roberts said she’d got it through an auction?”
“A school auction, yes. Someone must have known someone, and Harry or Susan agreed. We do donate to schools here, too. Not too many donations a year, maybe four or five.”
“Why don’t I know anything about the donations?”
“Because you’d probably say it wasn’t necessary, as you only focus on income and expenses, but it’s good to give back to the community, and if we have a cottage available, why not let someone use it?”
“But not during Christmas when we make the most money.”
“We’d had one open up—or so Susan thought. But it’s been sorted out, so don’t let it trouble you. It’s not worth it.” Mrs. Booth smiled at him, and then her smile faded. For a moment there was silence. “How is your father?” she asked gently.
