Miss In A Man's World. ANNE ASHLEY
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and the knees. A stifled exclamation of alarm quickly followed, the pile of recently laundered shirts was tossed in the air and then fell to the floor as though so many worthless rags, a moment before Master Green fled the room as though the devil himself were nipping at her heels.
Highly amused by the outcome of his little experiment, his lordship gave vent to a roar of appreciative laughter, uncaring whether it could be heard or not by his unconventional and highly discomposed young page.
‘That,’ he murmured, as he wrapped himself in a huge towel and wandered through to his bedchamber again, ‘was most illuminating. Though not particularly flattering, now I come to consider the matter. I’ve never had any unfavourable comments about my manly attributes before!’
‘Beg pardon, my lord.’ Like a cat on the prowl, Napes had slipped silently into the room. There was in his eye a watchful look, as he made his way towards the dressing table where his master sat, running a comb through his damp hair. There was a suggestion, too, of peevishness about the valet’s mouth.
His lordship could hazard a fairly shrewd guess as to why his valet felt aggrieved, but chose not to pander to the excellent dresser’s feelings of wounded pride at having had an underling usurp his exalted place in the dressing room and raised one hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Merely thinking aloud, Napes,’ he assured him, and then watched as the servant disappeared into the adjoining room.
The strangled cry that quickly followed came as no great surprise to his lordship either. Nor, it had to be said, did the subsequently voiced strictures on allowing unskilled menials to handle clothing of such fine quality.
‘For heaven’s sake, calm yourself, man!’ his lordship ordered. ‘The confounded garments aren’t ruined.’
‘None the less, my lord, the boy must learn to take more care of your belongings if … if you wish him to share my duties. He should be punished for such tardiness.’
When this advice was followed by a decided sniff, his lordship raised his eyes ceilingwards. ‘Be assured, Napes, the child was not hired to replace you, or to relieve you of any of your duties. I merely wished to satisfy myself over—’ His lordship checked abruptly. ‘I merely wished to satisfy myself that he had slept well. All the same, your remarks are timely,’ he added, staring thoughtfully into the glass before him, as he confined his long hair at the nape of his neck with a length of ribbon. ‘Ring for Brindle!’
Whilst awaiting the arrival of his major-domo, the Viscount proceeded to dress himself. Although he allowed his valet to remove the smallest of specks from his clothes and polish his boots and shoes to a looking-glass shine, he preferred, with the exception of his coats, to don his own garments, and always tied his neckcloths himself.
‘You sent for me, my lord,’ the butler said, entering the room in time to witness the valet assisting his lordship into a coat of dark green velvet.
‘I did, Brindle.’ He turned, favouring the high-ranking servant with his full attention. ‘Mark me well … No one, and I mean no one, is to lay violent hands on my new page. If the child commits any slight misdemeanour …’ he couldn’t resist smiling to himself ‘… and I suspect he will commit many, you, and you alone, are to guide him in a gentle, understanding way. If he should seriously transgress, you are to inform me and I shall deal with the matter personally.’
He paused for a moment before adding, ‘I shall be most displeased if I discover my orders have been disobeyed over this matter. Is that understood?’
‘Perfectly, my lord.’
‘And you, Napes …?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Good. Now you may be about your duties. And you, Brindle, locate Master Green’s whereabouts and request him to await me in the library.’
Although the butler automatically bowed and withdrew, his face wore a decidedly thoughtful expression as he made his way down the back stairs to the kitchen, where he found the page happily assisting the cook to shell peas at the large table.
The youth had been there for most of the morning, chattering away quite knowledgeably about various domestic practices to Mrs Willard and helping her out where he could. Clearly the cook had already taken a keen liking to the boy. Perhaps the lad had aroused her motherly instincts, for generally she ruled the kitchen with an iron hand and would brook no interference from anyone. The scullery maid and the boots knew well not to get under her feet and she wasn’t above giving the youngest footman a sound box round the ear, if he happened to catch her in a bad mood. Yet Master Green, seemingly, could do no wrong in her eyes.
And it had to be said the child was no harum-scarum guttersnipe, Brindle considered fair-mindedly, as he made his way towards the large wooden structure taking pride of place in the centre of the room. Not only was the lad well mannered, he spoke, amazingly enough, in a very genteel fashion. Yes, Master Green was something of a mystery.
‘You are to attend his lordship, child.’
There was a suspicion of alarm in the eyes that were raised to the butler’s impassive countenance. ‘Not in his bedchamber, I trust?’
‘It isn’t for you to question where his lordship wishes to see you!’ Napes admonished, entering the kitchen in time to hear the decidedly nervous response.
A considering look took possession of those striking eyes as they followed the valet’s progress across the large room, before it was vanquished by a knowing twinkle.
‘Ah, but you see, Mr Napes, I have no desire to trespass on your domain. I think any skills I might have lie elsewhere, perhaps even here with Mrs Willard.’
‘Oh!’ The valet looked taken aback for a moment, not to say slightly relieved. ‘There’s no need for you to worry yourself on that score, my boy,’ he assured, noticeably less sharply. ‘His lordship demands you await him in the library.’
‘Not quite, Mr Napes,’ the butler corrected when the page had left them. ‘He requested the child await him in the library. Requested, mark you.’
‘Well, that do seem strange, Mr Brindle,’ the cook declared, as the butler, continuing to look perplexed himself, joined her at the table. ‘Mind, the child do have winning ways, I’ll say that for him. Perhaps his lordship has a fondness for the lad.’ She gave a sudden start. ‘Oh, my gawd! You don’t suppose.?’
‘That possibility assuredly crossed my mind,’ the butler admitted, following Cook’s train of thought with little difficulty. ‘But, apart from the hair, the child bears no resemblance to his lordship from what I can see. Nor the master’s late brother, come to that. Besides which, I would have thought he was rather too old to be an offspring of his lordship’s.’
‘Not only that, Mr Brindle, the master were so good natured in his youth,’ Cook reminded him. ‘Never a breath of scandal attached to his name in those days. It was only after he came back from France and discovered what Miss Charlotte had gone and done that changed him.
‘A bit before your time, Mr Napes,’ she explained, when she chanced to catch him frowning down at her, looking bewildered. ‘Miss Charlotte were a close neighbour’s daughter. She and Master Benedict were childhood sweethearts, inseparable they were back in them days. His brother only wanted Master Benedict to finish his studies up at Oxford, then he were happy to give the union his blessing and set Master Benedict up in a nice little property a few miles north of Fincham Park, with a nice bit of land attached to it, too. Well, no sooner does Master Benedict finish his studies than he goes jaunting over to France to help his friend Mr Gingham rescue a cousin, or some such. Wicked goings on over there at the time, Mr Napes, murdering all their betters. Wicked it were!
‘Master Ben were away quite some few weeks, I seem to remember,’ she went on, quickly returning to the point of the story, ‘and when he came back he discovered Miss Charlotte had spent some time in London with an aunt or some such, and had upped and wedded Lord Wenbury.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘He were never the same after that, were he, Mr Brindle? Cold, he became, cold and distant.’