The Earl's Forbidden Ward. Bronwyn Scott
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argued that Sergei would be a preferable escort, Tessa couldn’t fully deny that the idea of spending an evening or two on the Earl’s arm held some appeal. He’d been arrogant today, but beneath that arrogance she’d sensed compassion. He’d offered to keep the girls in London and to let her decide where they went after the Season. Tessa found such a mixture intriguing, and, in Eva’s words, slightly mysterious.
Petra’s idea of a laissez-faire guardian succumbed to reality at precisely eleven o’clock the next morning. The hypothesis that the Earl of Dursley would leave them be had hardly lasted fifteen hours, and they’d been asleep for eight of them.
Mrs Hollister arrived in the modest library Tessa used as her private office, nervous and out of sorts. ‘Miss, there’s visitors here to see you.’
Tessa looked up from her letters. The Earl wasn’t expected to call until the afternoon. ‘Did they say what they wanted?’ It wasn’t like the capable Mrs Hollister to be edgy.
‘They say they’re from the Earl of Dursley.’
Tessa frowned, trying to make sense of the arrivals. ‘His solicitor, perhaps?’ she mused out loud. It was the only explanation that made sense.
‘No, miss. A maid and a footman,’ Mrs Hollister breathed in alarm. ‘I have them in the kitchen. I didn’t know where to put them.’
‘I’ll see them at once. Send them up.’ Tessa set aside her letters. ‘I will see what they want.’
Tessa waited for them to appear, conscious of her choice to receive them in the library. Modest though it was, the room was done in dark woods and carried an aura of authority. Whatever their reason for being here, she wanted the message to be clear that she was mistress of this house. This was not their master’s house.
Mrs Hollister returned with the unexpected arrivals and Tessa was immediately glad of her choice to stay in the library. She’d seen servants like these before—well-trained members of an exceptional noble household. In her experience, these types of servants had their own brand of haughtiness. She should have expected no less from Dursley’s household.
‘What is your business here?’ Tessa asked, taking her seat behind the wide desk.
‘The Earl of Dursley sent us. He said you were newly come to town and had need of staff, miss.’ The maid was dressed as crisply as she spoke. She bobbed a curtsy at the end of her message.
‘I appreciate his thoughtfulness, but he is incorrect in his assumptions. I do not require further staff. We keep an informal house here and Mrs Hollister sees ably to our needs.’ Tessa took out a sheet of paper and dipped her quill in the inkwell. ‘If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I will pen a note to the Earl, explaining my position. I am sure Mrs Hollister will be happy to provide you with tea in the interim.’
The maid and footman exchanged anxious glances. The footman cleared his throat. Tessa stifled a sigh. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. She was starting to suspect that nothing regarding the Earl of Dursley would ever be easy.
‘Excuse me, miss, I don’t mean to be impertinent,’ the footman began, ‘but the Earl said you might not share his opinion on the issue and that we were to remain until his arrival this afternoon.’
Oh, that was very neatly done, Tessa fumed. She couldn’t argue with them because they had no power with which to negotiate. All she could do was let them follow orders until Dursley arrived.
‘I understand your predicament,’ Tessa said tersely. ‘You may make yourselves comfortable in the kitchen.’
They did more than make themselves comfortable. They made themselves useful.
When Tessa went down to check on the state of things shortly before Dursley’s arrival, she was astonished at the amount of industry taking place. The footman had set about the business of polishing the silver and was now arranging it in the glass-fronted storage cabinet. In another corner of the large room, the maid was assisting Mrs Hollister with the ironing. A pile of freshly laundered sheets already lay folded on a work table in testament to their efforts. What was more, Mrs Hollister had lost the cowed look she’d sported upon their arrival and was chatting amiably with the girl while they worked.
Mrs Hollister spotted her at the doorway and excitedly waved her over. ‘Miss Branscombe, Meg here knows a most effective recipe for getting food stains out of tablecloths.’ Such first-name familiarity was a bad sign.
Tessa forced a smile. ‘Lovely. Really, you didn’t have to go to all this effort, Meg.’
Meg beamed, taking Tessa’s comment as a compliment. Encouraged, Meg went on, ‘Of course we did. You’ve hardly unpacked. Arthur discovered the silver and the dishes still in their packing crates in the cellar. I have no idea what you’ve been eating off since your arrival. We decided at once we had to set the kitchen to rights. Mrs Hollister is just one woman. She can’t do everything.’ Meg smiled again, no doubt convinced she’d said just the right thing to prove her and Arthur’s efficiency.
Tessa reined in her temper. It wasn’t Meg and Arthur’s fault, after all. They were just doing what they’d been ordered to do. It was all Dursley’s fault they were here at all. Still, it didn’t help things that, while she’d been upstairs going over accounts, they’d been down here inventorying the household goods and deciding on their own she wasn’t living grandly enough to suit them.
In the month they’d been in London, she’d made no move to unpack the household goods they’d brought from Russia or the items that were stored in the home for the infrequent times her father had come to London. She’d decided to keep life simple and unpack only the basics.
After all, she and her sisters had spent the prior months in mourning, travelling and living plainly during the journey. They knew no one in London and had no intention at this time of formal entertaining, although the house was big enough to do so. Tessa supposed there would come a time when they might offer salons and dinners, but not yet, not now when they were still adjusting to their circumstances.
Tessa didn’t mind the practical nature of their lifestyle. Although, she had to privately admit that the sight of the well-polished silver service in the case looked magnificent and the elegant samovar she’d brought from Russia conjured up nostalgia for days past when they lived among the opulent surroundings of the St Petersburg court.
‘The pieces look lovely, Arthur.’
‘Thank you, miss. There’s plenty more in the cellar. I saw the labels on the crates. I can begin work on them tomorrow.’ Arthur rolled down his sleeves and put on his discarded coat bearing the Dursley livery in dark green and silver. ‘Since the Earl is due in a few minutes, I’ll post myself at the door for his arrival.’
It was said with perfunction and kindness. It was clear from his tone he didn’t mean to be high-handed. He only meant to please. Tessa hadn’t the heart to remind Arthur she was sending him and Meg home with Dursley.
Tessa offered a few instructions to Mrs Hollister about serving tea and turned to go. She wanted to be ready in the drawing room when Dursley arrived.
‘Miss Branscombe, don’t be too hard on the Earl. He did what he thought was best. Meg and Arthur are good folk,’ Mrs Hollister called after her. ‘It was good to have the extra hands today.’
In all fairness, Tessa supposed it was a boon to Mrs Hollister to have the help. Running the kitchen alone for four girls was work enough for one person, not counting the laundry and other sundry chores that cropped up on most days. Tessa did her part, too.
She wasn’t above shopping at the market or greengrocers or dusting furniture or changing sheets. After years of running her father’s household, she’d learned how to do for herself. She didn’t live an idle life while Mrs Hollister shouldered the lion’s share of the chores. She saw to her sisters’ lessons; when they weren’t studying, she saw to it that they helped out around the house as well. She wanted her sisters to be prepared for whatever circumstances life threw at them.
Diplomats’