Once Again a Bride - By Jane Ashford Page 0,55

tone.

“It’d be good for Tess. Get her back on her feet, like. And she could use the training.” Gran gave her a look. “I’m just saying.” Aunt Liv grinned. “Nobody better to train up the young ’ens than you, Mum.”

“Oh, aye, butter me up before you send me off to work.” But you could tell Gran was flattered by the comment.

And so it was settled. His grandparents would make their way to the house later in the day, giving Ethan time to send word of their arrival. “Thanks,” said Ethan. He couldn’t help it that his voice shook. Nor that his family obviously noticed.

***

The following morning, Charlotte told herself she was fully recovered, even though she’d slept poorly. And when she followed the tantalizing scent of bacon down to the basement kitchen, she found that, amazingly, she had a staff, as well as breakfast. A sturdy, gray-haired woman stood over the iron stove, in the midst of explaining something to the young blond girl next to her. A giant of a man rose from a chair at the kitchen table as Charlotte entered, his white hair nearly brushing the ceiling beam. Lucy smiled from the corner as if she had performed a magic trick, which she had. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Trask,” she said. “And Tess Hopkins.”

The latter bobbed a nervous curtsy as the Trasks nodded to her. Clearly they were a very superior sort of servant—miraculously so. They had a weight and presence that declared they knew exactly what to do and how to do it. “You are all very welcome,” Charlotte said. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

The Trasks nodded again. “Where were you wanting breakfast served, ma’am?” said Mrs. Trask. “The dining room, seemingly…”

“Yes, it is a little odd,” Charlotte acknowledged. “The main floor of the house is all taken up with my… late husband’s antiquities collection. Those rooms…” It seemed too much to explain. The dining table was covered with statuary. “…can’t be disturbed. I don’t really live… There is a room on the second floor where I used to… where I dine, and another set up as a drawing room. My bedchamber is on the third floor.” What would the Trasks think of this eccentric household? They must have come from some much superior place. But neither showed any reaction.

“I showed Tess the room next to me,” Lucy put in, which meant she’d returned to her former chamber on the top floor. “Mr. Trask was thinking they’d stay down here.”

“Seems tight and dry,” said the giant, smiling down at her. There was something very comforting about him, even beyond his size.

The basement housed the servants’ parlor and another large room as well as the kitchen and storeroom. High windows provided light. They could take a bed and other furnishings from an unused bedchamber. “If you’re sure that is what you would like?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mrs. Trask confirmed.

“Very well. I can show you…”

“No need, ma’am. We’ll take care of it. I’ll send young Tess up with a breakfast tray, shall I?”

The older woman’s calm competence soothed her wounded spirit. “Thank you. That would be… lovely.” And it was. The food was delicious. The young housemaid was shyly pleasant. It seemed that Charlotte had nothing to worry about but the wreck of all her life’s prospects.

She had finished eating and begun to goad herself to do something useful when Tess returned with the news that she had visitors. “Two young ladies, ma’am. Said they don’t have no… any cards.” She paused, then carefully repeated, “Miss Anne and Miss Elizabeth Wylde.”

Charlotte’s pulse accelerated. “Bring them up to the drawing room, please, Tess.” She barely got there ahead of them.

“Charlotte, what has happened?” said Anne as she swept in.

Lizzy, behind her, set a wicker hamper by the door and rushed forward. “Why did you run away?” she said. “It took us forever to find your address. I had to rifle Alec’s papers, on his desk! Ethan heard you shout at him.” They both gazed at her, expectant.

Charlotte was happy to see them, but she didn’t know what to say. She shook her head.

“But you must tell us, so that we can make it all right, and you can come back,” Lizzy exclaimed. She plumped down on the aged sofa, bounced once, and looked at the cushions disapprovingly.

“I was always only visiting, Lizzy. And that is… over now. It’s time I got my own household in order.” It sounded stiff. Yet what else was there to say? “Do

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