A Proper Companion. Louise Gouge M.
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“And your father chose to bury himself in a remote village? Could he not obtain a better living through influential friends?”
“I do not know, my lady. But his people loved him.”
Mrs. Brown mumbled her agreement, but Mother appeared not to hear her and continued to stare at Miss Newfield.
“Well.” She shot a glance at Edmond. “We shall see if she suits.” She turned toward him. “I will forgive you for bringing servants into my drawing room because of these unusual circumstances. This one may help you.” She waved a hand at Matthews. “But only as long as you require his assistance. That one—” a sniff toward Mrs. Brown “—renowned seamstress or not, will remain in the servants’ quarters.” She strode to the bell pull beside the marble hearth and gave it a yank. “You will be in your old chambers. Mrs. Dobbins will assign a room to Miss Newman…Newmarket—”
“Newfield.” Edmond recognized his mother’s method of putting people in their places. That was her way, as if she alone guarded the social order of England. Clearly, she thought the great-granddaughter of a knight, whose descendants received no title or lands, did not warrant any amount of attention or respect.
“Yes,” she drawled. “I shall grant Newfield a time of trial. Should she prove inadequate, she will be sent away. Should she attempt to raise herself above her station, she will be turned out.”
Edmond saw alarm flicker in the young woman’s eyes, followed by a glint of courage as she recovered by force of will. The sight heartened him. She would need that strength in this house. “And her pay?”
Mother sniffed. “Pay? Humph. Her needs will be met. That is sufficient.”
Edmond ground his teeth at her stinginess. Nothing ever changed here. One would think he had gone out the front door just this morning and been in America for only a day.
Miss Newfield, however, curtseyed to his mother again. “Thank you, my lady. I am grateful.”
Mother reached out and lifted Miss Newfield’s chin. “Hmm. Your eyes are clear, your posture acceptable. Perhaps your youthful energies will be a welcome diversion. Peel never had energy. Do you ride, gel?”
“No, my lady.” Her tone held even.
Once again, Edmond’s approval soared. This gentlewoman was not easily intimidated.
“You will learn. Greystone’s groom will teach you,” Mother pronounced, then peered over her shoulder at Edmond.
He gave her his best smile. Unfortunately, it felt more like a grimace.
“Oh, do retire, Edmond, before you drop on my drawing room floor. I shall have supper sent up.”
“If you do not mind, madam, I should like to see Greystone.” Somehow he would manage to hold on if his eldest brother was about the manor house.
“He is out seeing to his tenants. I do not expect him back soon.”
“Permit me, sir.” Matthews nudged Edmond toward the door.
“Very well. In the morning, then.” With more than a little reluctance, Edmond gave his apologies and left Miss Newfield to the care of his mother, Lady Greystone, whom he and his brothers had sometimes referred to as Lady Gorgon when they were boys.
* * *
Anna watched Major Grenville and his batman move toward the drawing room door, her heart sinking lower with his every step. Upon their exit, the room seemed to grow colder. As if she shared the same sensation, Mrs. Brown moved closer, her plump arm cushioning Anna’s trembling one. Anna prayed her friend would not speak up to Lady Greystone, or speak at all, lest she cause an offense.
The people of Blandon had little to do with the aristocracy. Even Squire Beamish, a mere gentleman, rarely visited the village, although he was responsible for its care. Such neglect gave the denizens of the area a sense of independence, which Anna could now see had resulted in a certain ignorance about how to behave around the wellborn.
In truth, she herself knew very little about such manners except what her mother had taught her. But instinct kept her from addressing her new employer, who stood with arms crossed, tapping her foot on the colorful woven carpet that lay in front of the gleaming white marble hearth. Within minutes, a woman of perhaps fifty years entered the room, her footfalls making no sound on the wooden floor.
“Yes, Lady Greystone?” The woman wore a simple black woolen dress, and her greying brown hair was pulled severely into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her posture was rigid, her face an expressionless mask.
“This is Mrs. Dobbins, my housekeeper.” Lady Greystone glanced at Anna. “Mrs. Dobbins, this is Newfield, my new companion. You will give her Peel’s room.”
“Yes, my lady.” Mrs. Dobbins beckoned to Anna. “If you please, miss.” Her slight nod to Mrs. Brown was an order to follow her, as well.
Following the housekeeper, Anna wondered if she should offer some parting words of gratitude to Lady Greystone, but a glance over her shoulder revealed the viscountess making her own exit through a different door, which had been opened by a blue uniformed footman Anna had mistaken for a statue.
In the manor house’s front entryway, Mrs. Dobbins’s rigid posture relaxed considerably even as she retained a dignified carriage. So even the most powerful servant in the house feared Lady Greystone. Anna would not try to guess what challenges lay ahead. She prayed only that she would not disappoint Major Grenville and that his kindness to her would not cause a problem between him and his mother.
“Oh, Anna dear.” Mrs. Brown gazed around the large, dimly lit chamber. “Such a grand house, but there don’t seem to be much happiness here.”
“If you please.” Mrs. Dobbins gave Mrs. Brown a scorching look. “Servants do not speak unless addressed.”
“I ain’t no servant—”
Anna set a hand on her friend’s arm. “Thank you, Mrs. Dobbins. I am certain we have much to learn.”
“Just so, miss.” The woman began her ascent up the gracefully curved marble staircase. Her gnarled hands gripped the dark oak banister, and she pulled herself up each step.
Anna’s heart went out to the woman. It appeared her knees gave her much pain, as Father’s had toward the end of his life. Had Major Grenville experienced as much difficulty climbing this staircase with his wounded leg? Perhaps both would benefit from willow bark.
At the top of the stairs, Mrs. Dobbins indicated a long hallway on the right. “Do not enter that wing. Lord Greystone’s chambers are there, as are his brothers’. Follow me.” She marched stiffly down another hall, stopping at a wide white door. “This is Lady Greystone’s suite. You must not enter unless summoned.” Continuing on, she came to a smaller door across the hall. “Here is your room, miss.”
She led them inside where Anna gazed around in wonder. The chamber was half again larger than her old room at the vicarage. The furnishings were elegant but not lavish, with everything she would require to be comfortable: a four-poster bed covered with a green counterpane, a mahogany wardrobe and a wingchair. In addition, a tall window—or perhaps it was a door—promised sunny mornings, for she guessed it to be on the east side of the house. What more could she ask for?
“I will have your baggage brought up,” Mrs. Dobbins said. “If Lady Greystone wishes you to dine with the family tonight, she will send word. I shall send up supper if she does not ask for you.” She listed more rules of the house and imparted other essential information, while Anna wondered how she would remember it all.
After a tearful embrace, Anna said goodbye to Mrs. Brown. The dear lady would depart by early post the next morning, leaving Anna bereft of all she had ever known.
No, not bereft. In the scriptures, the Lord said He would never leave her nor forsake her. She would rest in that promise. And perhaps if she