women hadn’t followed Humphries’s son out of the house. The eldest and the smallest, a spry, silver-haired woman with snapping brown eyes and the bloom of youth still on her cheeks, quickly brushed past him, muttering admonitions to pick his feet up and stop slouching.
“This be gentry proper, get along with you now and mind your manners,” Elizabeth heard her say in the peevish tone that only the old used in the presence of those they loved. Elizabeth was brought to mind of her own nurse, Hattie, and she knew instantly she would like this woman.
“Milady, we are that much honored.” The woman bobbed a curtsy then grabbed her hand and patted it with her other. “Reet welcome you are to be sure. Now come along, come along inside and rest yourself and have a sip of cider maybe? Oh, this be my daughter, Ellie, and that lump who should’a brought you in first off is my son-in-law, Nat. That’s my grandson, Gerry. Oh my, I almost forgot myself. I’m Mary, Mary Geddy, and I must say you sure are a pretty sight for these tired old eyes. But come along.” She turned suddenly to Nat and her grandson. "You two wash up and come visit awhile, too, and no argle bargle.”
“Oh, please,” Elizabeth finally managed to interject, “I don’t want to interrupt your routine.”
“Now don’t you go frett’n yourself, milady. A half hour or hour ain’t going to make a ha’porth of difference to the work around here, and we’ve got to see you property welcomed.” She ushered Elizabeth inside the farmhouse, made her sit in the rocker by the fire, and fussed over the placement of a cushion at her back before bustling over to the pantry for mugs and sending Gerry for the jugs of cider kept cool in the stream running behind the house.
Mrs. Humphries, a placid, plain-faced woman, came to stand before Elizabeth. “Don’t mind Mama, she was once a housekeeper in a great house and much given to ruling the roost.”
Elizabeth shot Mrs. Geddy an excited smile. “You were a housekeeper?”
“Aye, and afore that a cook.” She poured some of the cool cider into a mug and handed it to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth sent a silent thank you to the Reverend Thornbridge. “Then perhaps you are just the person to advise me."
"Me, milady? Gracious, what would a poor body like me be doing giving a great lady like yourself advice?”
Elizabeth smiled. “You do yourself a disservice. Larchside needs servants. So far, the only candidates I’ve seen have been woefully inexperienced or-or—”
“Not the type you’d like to see cross the threshold, I’d wager.”
“Mother,” growled Nat Humphries.
Mary Geddy waved her hand dismissingly at her son-in-law and pooh-poohed his unspoken admonition to hold her tongue.
“I was wondering if you would know of persons in the area who would like to enter into service. My case is desperate. Besides chambermaids and footmen, I require a cook and an abigail for myself, or at least some young woman with clever hands whom I could train for such a position.”
Mr. Humphries grunted. “And what would Mr. Tunning say to this?”
Elizabeth’s hackles rose. Everywhere she turned that man seemed to have a stranglehold, and it appeared everyone considered his control should extend to her person as well. She raised an eyebrow in faint hauteur. “My good man, Mr. Tunning is merely an employee. What right has he to say anything?”
“Pay no mind to Nat, here,” Mary assured her. “He and Mr. Tunning never have seen eye to eye and rightly never will. We’re not favorites with your estate agent, milady.”
“I know, and that puzzles me, for yours is the best run and most profitable farm.”
“That’s cuz our Nat here ain’t one to be gulled.”
“Mother, that is enough.”
"“No it ain’t and don’t you try to say how it is.” She turned to the Viscountess. “I say look to your estate books if you want answers. I’d lay odds not all them numbers match the quality of the work being done.”
“Hush your tongue, woman!” roared Mr. Humphries.
Mrs. Humphries looked pained and stood kneading her apron in her hands.
“Mr. Humphries, please. I know something is dreadfully wrong, but if everyone continues to sidestep the issue, I’ll never be able to cure whatever disease it is that plagues Larchside. I desire help not avoidance, and I’ll pay well for it. Mrs. Geddy, could you see your way clear to coming to Larchside as my cook, if not permanently, at least until I can make other arrangements? If