Read Amanda Scott Online

Authors: The Bawdy Bride

Amanda Scott (18 page)

“I won’t do that.”

“But you do; you have. At meals, they do not even look to me for orders. When I attempted to reduce the number of fires lighted each night, you refused to support me. When I suggested that Frannie look after Sylvia, the notion was rejected out of hand without a murmur from you. Indeed, whenever I try to effect the smallest change, if Bagshaw or Mrs. Burdekin object, you say they know best how things should be done and I should let them do their jobs. Not once have you supported my position against theirs. Not until just now with Bagshaw, at all events,” she added with a sigh.

“I am sorry you view my behavior that way,” he said. “I did not intend to make you unhappy, but since you are a newcomer and Bagshaw has been helping to manage things here for years, I suppose I just thought …” He spread his hands in a clear invitation for her to see the matter as reasonably as he did.

Relieved that he had not dismissed her or her argument out of hand, she said quietly, “I am tempted to point out that if this household were well managed, it would be a happier one, but I don’t want to befog the issue, for I must make plain to you how difficult your attitude makes things for me. Every servant in the house believes you will not support my authority. Thus, I have none.”

He frowned. “Has anyone dared to be rude to you? You need only speak his name, and I will dismiss him at once.”

“Even Bagshaw?”

“Good God, don’t tell me he was ever even disrespectful. I’d find that nearly impossible to believe. I’ve only seen him shaken from his dignity once, today, when his concern for the proprieties made it so hard for him to speak to me in your presence.”

“No, Bagshaw has never been rude,” Anne admitted with a sigh. “Rudeness would almost be easier for me to bear than the casual way he dismisses any suggestion of mine as not being the way things are done here.”

“But he does know how things should be done.” Michael moved toward her, adding with a smile, “I know it must be difficult to come into a new house and find things managed so differently from the ways to which you are accustomed, my dear, but no doubt, in time, you will see that our ways have merit, too.”

Anne began to stiffen the moment she realized he intended to dismiss her, that he had not accepted her argument. Still, had he not put a hand on her shoulder, she might have held her temper in check. But when he touched her, all the irritations, annoyances, and resentments that had clouded her days at Upminster came together with a nearly audible snap.

Stepping back, she said angrily, “Do not treat me like a child again! My first night here you sent me to bed as if I had been ten years old. When I went into the garden without Elbert, you took me to task before the family and the servants. And although when you married me, you said you wanted a mother for the children and a mistress for this house, whenever I attempt to speak to you about either subject, you act as if my words were of no consequence. I cannot perform either of those duties well if you won’t support my authority, my lord, and just because things have been done a certain way since the dawn of time does not mean they are being done correctly. Surely, if you must spend as much time as you do on your brother’s affairs, they cannot have been in good order, and if his business affairs were not in order, I cannot imagine why you should assume that his household was.”

“Anne, lower your voice,” he said, glancing toward the door. “Such conduct is unseemly and most unlike you.”

“How do you know what I am like? You have made no effort whatsoever to find out.”

“That’s not true,” Michael said, struggling to control his own temper. “If I haven’t given you the attention you expected, it is only because I have had so many other things on my mind.”

“Then let others help you,” she said, giving her frustration free rein. “Lord Ashby is willing to do so, and I could help you much more if I knew what was vexing you, and did not have to exert such elaborate tact with everyone. But you tell me nothing, and I must constantly cajole and persuade in circumstances where I should simply be able to say ‘you will.’”

When he did not reply at once, she said more calmly, “When you were in the army, sir, did you not frequently delegate authority to subordinate officers?”

“Yes, of course, but I cannot see what my junior officers have to do with the matter at hand.”

“If one of them gave an order to his men that they did not like, did you assume the officer was wrong and tell him to listen to his men and let them decide what to do?”

“No, of course not. I would never undermine an officer’s authority in such a fashion. But, Anne, really—”

“Even if the soldiers who objected had been in the army longer than your junior officer?”

An arrested look leapt to his eyes. He said slowly, “It actually is, by and large, much the same thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” she said, hardly daring to believe he really understood at last what she had been trying to tell him.

He was silent for a long moment, thinking. Then with a rueful look, he said, “You ought to have spoken up sooner.”

“What could I say? Everyone has been kind and polite—indeed, Bagshaw has been practically paternal—so whenever I try to press a point, it sounds like petty complaining. But this business with poor Jane is too important to let be, sir. I know what will become of her if she is discharged without a character. I cannot allow that to happen, not to someone who has served us well.”

“Well, as to that little matter, I’m afraid I still think Bagshaw is right.”

“I disagree, however, and in this instance, I believe you must support me if I am ever to be mistress here. You cannot just pick and choose those occasions when you will do so, you know.”

“But, damn it, Anne, Jane Hinkle deserves to be dismissed.”

“No, she does not. If she must be punished for lacking judgment, then let her forfeit her next day out.”

“A full month of days out.”

“Done,” Anne said, knowing that she had won. “Thank you, sir.” When he reached for her, she grasped his hand, gave it a warm squeeze, and said, “If you will excuse me, I want to tell Jane the good news myself.”

He caught her hand tightly, saying, “No, Anne, that you cannot do. Only recollect your own advice to me,” he added swiftly when she opened her mouth to protest. “In this instance, you are the superior officer and Bagshaw the subordinate. He must be the one to tell Jane. I’ll ring for him now, and we will inform him together of what we desire him to do. And, Anne, if I truly treated you like a child, I do apologize most sincerely. You are not a child, my dear, not by a long chalk.”

Dear James,

I lost my temper today in what Grandmama would condemn as a most unladylike way, but although I do agree that a lady ought never to give way to her emotions before others, I cannot say I am sorry I did. In point of fact, considering the excellent result, if shouting at people can help me define and secure my position as mistress of Upminster, I may quite soon become known throughout all Derbyshire as Lady Virago.

Perhaps a slight setback, he thought as he settled himself for the evening’s entertainment, but scarcely a rout, and really, quite unavoidable under the circumstances. Nonetheless a wife with a temperament would soon prove intolerable, and thus strategies that had, until now, played but a minor role would have to be accorded greater significance. Perhaps a bit more misdirection might be in order, if only to provide him time to teach her better manners.

As to other matters, the wager appeared to be creating more trouble than he had anticipated. Ridiculous not to come right out and tell the world how great a fool Edmund had been, but honor and an overnice sense of courtesy must ever lie as obstacles in the path of a man with a dilemma. Beggaring Upminster was no part of his plan, certainly, but silence at this juncture was no doubt the will of Providence.

The room was hot, but the pretty young woman approaching him much too slowly on her hands and knees no doubt appreciated its warmth, for she wore not a stitch of clothing. She did not know him, for as usual here, he was masked. He crooked a finger, urging her to greater speed, and opened his robe, baring himself, wishing all women were as submissive—and as eager to please—as this one promised to be.

Nine

T
HE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, LADY
Hermione, obeying a footman’s gesture and stepping through the open doorway into Anne’s dressing room, paused dramatically with a hand to her bosom, to exclaim, “My goodness me, what’s all this upset? This room looks as if you were moving out, my dear—furniture, baggage, and all!”

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Anne said, adding hastily, “Don’t run away, John. I want you to help Frannie take down those wall hangings, and the bed curtains in the other room as well. If you think you will need more help, send for Elbert or someone else to assist you. How kind you are, ma’am, not to mind being dragged all the way up here to find me,” she went on, turning back with a smile to her guest. “As you see, there is far too much to-do for me to leave, even to enjoy the pleasure of a comfortable coze with you in a nice, tidy parlor elsewhere.”

“So I should think,” Lady Hermione said, gazing about. “This room looks like someone turned it upside down and shook it.”

“I suppose it does,” Anne agreed, “but it is tidy compared to my bedchamber, I promise you.”

“But what on earth are you doing, my dear?”

“Precisely what it looks like I’m doing,” Anne replied placidly. “I am refurbishing these rooms a bit.”

“A bit?”

“Well, perhaps more than that,” she admitted. “Yes, Frannie, take those cushions out, and ask Jane Hinkle where she thinks they can be put. I should think she can distribute them amongst several rooms without disturbing the general appearance. I mean to embroider new pillow covers for these rooms,” she told Lady Hermione, “but until I do, I’ll keep only that small pile there in the corner.”

Lady Hermione chuckled. “I never did understand how Agnes could endure this oppressive grandeur. Only saw these rooms a couple of times before, mind you, for she very nearly always entertained me downstairs in the drawing room when I called.”

“You look very grand today,” Anne said. “I collect you did not ride over, for once, but actually let yourself be driven.”

Lady Hermione’s eyes twinkled. “To be sure,” she said, “and you ought to feel much honored by such an exertion on my part. In point of fact, however, I recalled your saying when I was here the other day that you meant to begin making calls in the neighborhood. Thought I’d offer to bear you company.”

“How kind of you,” Anne said, blushing when she added, “Everyone has been so warm and welcoming, and I have paid practically no calls in return. You will think it odd, I daresay, but I’ve found it a bit daunting to pay calls where I am so very little acquainted with anyone. Of course, the longer I put it off, the more difficult it will become.”

“No one expects a bride to begin paying calls before the first month of her marriage is out, my dear. It was only to be expected that you would spend at least that much time getting to know your new husband and family. But I did think that having formed the intention to begin, you might like some company.”

“I shall like it above all things, thank you. Hello, Sylvia,” she added, seeing the little girl peek through the doorway from the bedchamber, as if she were deciding whether to enter or flee. “Is this not an amazing mess we’ve created?”

The child stood silently, gazing at the upheaval, and then, to Anne’s dismay, tears began trickling down her pale cheeks.

“Oh, my dearest one,” Anne exclaimed, moving swiftly to kneel before her, a gentle hand on each thin shoulder, “please, don’t cry. I promise you, we are not turning your mama out. We are merely making these rooms more comfortable for me to live in. Look here, at what I’ve set aside just for you.”

She got up and went to a painting leaning with its face against the wall and turned it toward the child. “I have already spoken to Andrew,” Anne said, “to ask him if he had any objection to your keeping this lovely portrait of your mama in your own bedchamber. I think it is much nicer than the formal one hanging in the picture gallery, and both Andrew and I thought you might wish to keep it near you. Would you like that?”

For a moment there was no response while Sylvia stared at the painting of her mother. Then, slowly, she faced Anne, tears still sparkling on her cheeks and eyelashes, but her eyes were shining now. She nodded.

With a tremendous sense of relief, Anne said, “John will take it to your room straightaway. You must go with him to show him just where to hang it, and then you may come back to help supervise what we are doing here. Will you do that at once, please, John, and then collect some men to go with you to the salon near the first-floor landing, where you can hang those curtains in place of the blue ones we took down earlier? The wall hangings are to go in the north gallery, opposite the windows. They will get no direct sunlight there to damage them, but there will be light enough for visitors to see them clearly. Oh, and you had better ask Mrs. Burdekin to look at them when you hang them, to see if any need to be sent out for cleaning. I know my mother has ours done by the Axminster people about once every five years, so I suspect that someone should at least be sent for to look at them, but Mrs. Burdekin will know.”

“Will she indeed?” Lady Hermione said
sotto voce
when the footman had left the room with Sylvia. “You are very decisive today, my dear. I confess, I almost expect Bagshaw to appear at my shoulder, suggesting that all this ought to be left for another day, or done differently, or not done at all.”

Anne grimaced, glancing hastily about to see who might have overheard her outspoken friend. No one else was in the room just then, however, except for Maisie, who was stripping the cushions from the window seat, much to Juliette’s apparent outrage. When the little cat humped its back and spat at her, Anne chuckled. Then, turning back to Lady Hermione, she said quietly, “I do not think Bagshaw will express disapproval of my actions today. At least, I hope he will not, for I feel quite militant and capable of routing all challengers.”

Other books

Not Exactly a Love Story by Audrey Couloumbis
A Slippery Slope by Emily Harvale
Plague by Ann Turnbull
The Wild Ones by M. Leighton
Whiter Shades of Pale by Christian Lander
Dinosaur's Packed Lunch by Wilson, Jacqueline


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024