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He really had entered the kitchen. She felt like a ninny. He and Lanora were always considerate of the staff. Always doing for themselves. Lanora must have some specific craving her husband sought to satiate. William was a good man. A dedicated spouse. A loving father to their twin girls and their sons. Grace should help him in the kitchen.
She tugged off the veil she’d donned to conceal her fair skin.
Hopefully William wouldn’t remark on her wearing all black. She could always say she’d dressed in the dark, which she had, and if he made an issue of it, she’d tell him the truth. She’d suspected him of philandering. He would then offer her a sour look and, later, he and Lanora would have a good laugh.
Lately, William often cast sour looks her way, Grace reflected, as she strode through the sparsely lighted hallway to the kitchen door. Several years ago, when he and Lanora wed and he’d invited his female relations to live with them, William had welcomed Grace, too. He’d been more than pleased to have her there, his wife’s dearest friend. He’d complimented her on being the only woman in his household who had any sense of fashion. He’d told her that she was a good influence on his stepmother and half-sister. He’d seemed happy to have a home full of laughter and liveliness. He and Lanora had even adopted a street boy, Dodger, another addition to their home.
Then his stepmother, Cecilia, had married and left. Next, his half-sister, Madelina, wed and Grace hadn’t protested the unsuitability of the young man, because she could tell that they loved one another truly. A smug smile formed on her face as Grace pushed the kitchen door open. She could always tell when two people were destined for one another. She’d known before any of the couples. Grace could spot true love from across a ballroom, or a park, or a field. She had a gift.
Inside, the kitchen stood silent and empty. Only the banked fire of the bread oven offered any illumination. Grace halted, surprised. The door swung inward to bang against her heels.
She looked about, incredulous.
Dull light from the banked oven reflected off the rows of polished copper pots which hung from the ceiling. Daylight would reveal the dark shapes between them as drying herbs. Comforting aromas of rosemary and sage, clove, and fennel, washed over her. She did a slow circuit, needing no candle in the familiar realm of the kitchen, then looked out the door into the small walled garden. Illuminated only by the light from a streetlamp reflected off low hanging smog, the garden stood empty. Had he climbed the wall? She shook her head. No gentleman would bother to climb the wall of his own residence. Gentlemen did as they wished, after all.
She crossed to the larder. If William searched for something, she would help him locate it. Then, she would prepare whatever food Lanora desired, being a much better cook than William. Maybe she would even join him in bringing it up to his wife, and they could all have their laugh about her suspicions now. Get the teasing over with.
But the larder proved empty. Lighting a taper, Grace descended the steps into the cold room. Empty. She climbed back up, her gaze going to the only other exit from the kitchen… the servants’ stairs. With a grimace to rival the ones William now regularly levelled on her, Grace eyed the low doorway. William could have gone up the staircase with food, returning to Lanora the back way. But nothing in the kitchen showed evidence of a man rummaging for food. No disturbance in the cold room, the larder, among the shelves. If no food or drink had been taken, that left only one reason a man might sneak all the way to the kitchen and then up the servants’ stair… to the servants’ rooms.
Grace shook out the taper and tossed the remnant into the fireplace. William seemed so happy with Lanora. He adored their three children and their adopted son. Swathed in deep shadow now, Grace eyed the door to the servants’ stair, a lump rising in her throat.
Maybe he only dallied with servants when Lanora was heavy with child. The man had been a notorious rake before taking Lanora to wife, after all, known to be insatiable. He’d caroused at all hours and kept a string of mistresses. Still, could his need really be such that his wife’s lying in drove him into the arms of another?
And which poor girl was it? Assuming it was only one. Anger stirred in Grace.
Not only on behalf of Lanora, but also for the young women of the household. Hardly more than girls, most of them. In the darkness of the kitchen, Grace’s balled hands found her hips. William’s behaviour was sordid. Reprehensible. Why, when next she saw him, he would meet the sharp edge of her tongue. More than that, his overly handsome countenance would meet her palm. Or perhaps even her fist. Fuming, she stomped from the kitchen and back through the halls. Only when she reached the upper level did she mitigate her stride. It wouldn’t do to wake the children or Lanora.
Oh, Lanora, Grace bemoaned silently as she cast her gaze down the length of the hall. At the far end, the door leading to the suite of rooms the couple shared stood closed. Even though a distance had grown between them since Lanora wed, she and Grace had been raised together by Grace’s mother. They were like sisters. Closer than many sisters Grace knew. She would have to tell Lanora about William. A secret of such magnitude couldn’t be kept. But not now, in the middle of the night. Drawing her gaze from the end of the hall, Grace went to her own bedroom, the one nearest the top of the staircase, and slipped inside. She closed the door and leaned back against the cool wood, chewing her lower lip. Yes, she had to tell Lanora, but not yet. She needed proof. Absolute proof. She wouldn’t shatter Lanora’s illusions about William with conjecture. Even strong conjecture.
But how to get proof? Should she quiz the staff? Whomever he met, they must very much wish to keep their relationship secret, for Grace had heard nothing yet. With the amount of time she spent in the kitchen, and how much she chatted with every female member of the staff, she would have heard even the slightest rumour. It seemed unlikely, therefore, that questioning them would bear fruit. Worse, it might begin rumours that would make their way back to Lanora. Or to William. If Grace asked the woman he dallied with, she would likely lie to Grace and then run to William. The next thing Grace knew, she’d be turned out and Lanora would be left with an unworthy husband and no ally. That wouldn’t do.
Grace crossed the plush carpet to plop down on the edge of her bed. She would have to follow him more closely when next he snuck out, likely tomorrow night.
After the first time she’d heard him in the hall, a little over a week ago, she’d lain awake and listened to him walk softly by every night. She shook her head. The man was insatiable. Something must be wrong with him that he required so very much female companionship. Maybe a tonic would help. Perhaps that nice Doctor Carter could make one. It would be good to have an excuse to visit him. Reasons to do so were difficult to come by without making her seem like a valetudinarian. Not that she could really go to a doctor and ask for an anti-rake potion, then mix it into William’s food.
Grace toppled sideways on the bed, drawing a pillow down to her chest to hug close. She couldn’t do anything until she had proof, and that might be difficult to get. She could wait in the hall that held the doors to all of the female servants’ rooms, but where? Running down the length of one side of the attic, the hall boasted no alcoves. No embrasures. Simply doors. No amount of black garb could conceal her there.
Perhaps she could hide in the kitchen and follow him up. Try to see which door he darted into. What was the worst that could happen? If he caught her, she would simply confront him. He would tell her the truth. She would see to that, and that the girl left his employ. Not without severance, of course. It would hardly be her fault.
Casting the pillow aside, Grace sat up and nodded firmly. That would be her plan, and she half hoped that William would catch her. Then they could have it out, everything would be in the open, and Lanora would know that she, and Grace, had been duped. William wasn’t the man they thought he was.
Grace let out a long sigh and stood. She crossed to her wardrobe to undress. However revealing the truth to Lanora happened, it would be an awful, sad day. Lanora’s father and stepmother might even return from Egypt. The family would suffer from the uproar. Lanora would need Grace to be strong for her. And Grace would be. Whatever else happened, she and Lanora would always be friends.
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Books by Summer Hanford
Pride and Prejudice Retellings by Renata McMann and Summer Hanford
Love, Letters and Lies
The Long Road to Longbourn
