the other, stroking them like worry beads.
"Now, I was coming to tell you I wished you to accompany us on this picnic today. It shall be your responsibility to lay out the blankets, set out the food, and serve everyone. You may choose one assistant. It shall also be your responsibility to watch over my nephews and keep them from mischief."
"But who’ll be in charge here?" he blurted out.
Jane smiled thinly. "I think I shall appoint David. It will be good experience should he need to replace you in your duties."
Jeremy blanched. "Yes, Miss Jane."
"Go see that Cook has everything ready and arrange for its transport. Then I want you to check on the boys, see that they’re ready. Bertram will be riding a horse Lord Royce has provided. See that he is properly attired. You may go."
"Yes, ma’am," he said, bowing carefully. He turned to go, then stopped. "About Lady Tipton—" he began.
"Jeremy, I do not want to hear gossip! Particularly any garnered by an eavesdropping footman! Look at the trouble Henry Culpepper caused! Gossip only causes pain. You’d do well to remember that."
He compressed his lips and hung his head. "Yes, ma’am," he muttered and went off to finalize arrangements for the picnic.
Jane shook her head as she watched him walk toward the nether regions of the house. If she could only break him of the habit of eavesdropping, he’d make a fine butler. It would hurt her as much as him to see him demoted and demeaned. She sighed and walked toward the parlor.
When she opened the door, conversation abruptly stopped.
Seated close together were her aunt and the Willoughbys. Millicent, a bored expression on her face, was making a circuit of the room, touching this object, then that. She looked expectantly toward the door, rolled her eyes, then resumed her aimless walk. The Willoughbys leaned back in their seats. Lady Willoughby picked up her workbag and began rummaging through it. Lady Serena rose to her feet swiftly.
"Jane, dear! There you are. We were just having a comfortable coze while we waited for you and Elsbeth. Lord Willoughby was telling me how much you remind him of a young niece of his. He says she has the same eyes and manner. Isn’t that quaint?"
"Quaint?" Jane asked with a laugh. "If you insist, Aunt."
Lady Serena grimaced. "Please, Jane, do not call me Aunt. It makes me feel positively ancient! Just call me by my Christian name, as you do Elsbeth."
Jane inclined her head in silent acquiescence. She walked over to the settee near the Willoughbys and sat down. "Everyone should be gathering shortly." She turned toward Lady Willoughby. "I’m sorry ma’am, you must think me a terrible hostess, for we haven’t had much opportunity to talk. Lady Serena wrote you were from the north. What part?"
"Yorkshire."
"Northumbria. "
The Willoughbys responded in unison, her harsh rasp in odd harmony with his military crispness.
A hiss of sound came from Lady Serena. The Willoughbys looked at each other, disconcerted, then laughed thinly.
"Actually, Miss Grantley, we have two properties. One in Yorkshire near York proper, and the other in what you would term the wilds of Northumbria," explained Lord Willoughby with strained joviality. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow.
Lady Willoughby nodded. "The York house is my favorite. Probably because I come from York," she said, hesitating over each word.
"I see," Jane said, smiling at them. Lady Willoughby struck her as a frightened little mouse of a creature, her husband a domineering bluff fellow. A strange couple to be so devoted.
In the light of day it was easy to tell Lady Willoughby wore an inordinate amount of cosmetics. Her skin was caked with layers. Her hair was also powdered in the old style, but under the lace cap she wore it was evident she had applied the powder unevenly. Her hands particularly caught Jane’s attention. They were smooth and delicate, out of keeping with her age. Jane found herself staring at them where they lay, clutching the tapestry workbag.
"Tell me, Miss Grantley, have you ever been to the north country?" asked Lord Willoughby. He cleared his throat and mopped his upper lip, then rested the hand clenching the handkerchief on his ample stomach.
"No, Lord Willoughby. I haven’t had the pleasure. You shall have to tell me about it."
The sound of the doorknocker saved Lord Willoughby from answering.
"If you’ll excuse me, I sent Jeremy on some errands. Consequently, I’d best go see to the door myself," Jane said, rising to her