A Regency Officer's Wedding. Carla Kelly
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madam.’
‘But you would follow the admiral anywhere, I take it.’
He looked faintly surprised. ‘I already have, Mrs Bright,’ he replied, which told her volumes about a world of war she would never know. It touched her more than anything else he could have said.
‘Starkey answers the front door, polishes my best hook—and any other silver we might have lying around—decants wine with the best of them and never considers any command too strange,’ the admiral said. ‘Starkey, the naked woman in the front yard will have to go. Lively now.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’ He knuckled his forehead. ‘I ran out of time.’ He bowed to them both and left the terrace. In a few minutes, Sally heard the sound of chopping.
‘I’m low on servants,’ he told her as he got off the railing and started for the French doors. She followed. ‘That will be your task. Go back to Plymouth and hire whomever you think we need.’
She walked with him slowly back down the hall, neither of them looking up. He paused before a closed door. ‘This is my—our—library.’
‘Wonderful! I was hoping the house had one.’ Sally started forwards, but the admiral neatly hooked the sash on the back of her dress and reeled her in.
‘Over my prone and desiccated corpse, Sophia,’ he said. ‘If you think these cherubs are…ah…interesting, you’ll be fair shocked by the walls in here. And the books. And the busts.’ He winced. ‘I’ve never seen such a collection of ribaldry under one roof. The earl seemed to prefer illustrations to words.’
‘My blushes,’ Sally said.
‘Mine, too, and I consider myself a pretty normal navy man.’ He laughed softly. ‘The old earl has me beat! I looked through one book and found myself darting glances over my shoulder, hoping my mother—she’s been dead nearly forty years—wasn’t standing close enough to box my ears and send me to bed without any supper.’ He removed his hook from the back of her dress. ‘I’m not a man who believes in book burning, but I’m going to make an exception, in this case. We’ll make an evening of it.’
He continued down the hall, and she followed, shaking her head. He stopped before another door. ‘Speaking of meat…this is the way belowdeck to the galley.’ He straightened his shabby coat. ‘In case you are wondering, I am girding my loins. My cook is down there—don’t forget he is on strike.’
Sally stared at the door, and back at her husband. ‘Is he that terrifying?’
‘Let us just say he is French.’ He peered closer. ‘Right now, you are probably asking yourself how on earth you let yourself be talked into marriage to a certified lunatic and life in a house of, well, if not ill repute, then very bad art.’
He started to say something else, but he was interrupted by a crack from the front entrance and the sound of bushes shaking. ‘I think Penelope has more on her tiny mind now than Odysseus’s continued absence,’ Bright murmured. ‘I will choose discretion over valour, and not even ask what you think of all this.’
You would be surprised, Admiral, she thought. I have never been so diverted. Sally took his arm and opened the door. ‘I think it is time I met your cook.’
‘His name is Etienne Dupuis, and I won him with a high card after the Battle of Trafalgar,’ the admiral whispered as they went quietly down the stairs. ‘He was the best cook in the fleet, but he can be moody at times.’
‘This is one of those times, I take it,’ Sally whispered back. ‘Why are we whispering?’
‘He told me if I ever allowed my sisters here again, he would leave me to Starkey’s cooking and return to La Belle France.’
‘And would he?’
‘I don’t intend to find out.’ His lips were close to her ear, and she felt a little shiver down her spine. ‘Let us see how charming you can be, Mrs Bright.’
They came into a pleasant-sized servants’ hall. Thankfully, there were no cupids painted on these walls, but all was dark. The Rumford didn’t look as though there had been a fire lit for several days.
‘I think we’re too late,’ she whispered, not minding a bit that the admiral had pulled her close. ‘See here, sir, are you more afraid than I am?’
‘Absolutely,’ he told her. ‘You didn’t know you had married the coward of the Blue Fleet, did you? Good thing there was no Yellow Fleet. Stay close, Sophia. He threw a cleaver at me once.’
‘Goodness! In that case, I think I should stay far away!’
He took her hand and towed her further into the kitchen. ‘Etienne? I want you to meet my wife. She is the kindest creature in the galaxy.’
Sally smiled. ‘You don’t even know me,’ she whispered into his shoulder.
‘I think I do,’ he told her, raising her hand in his and kissing it. ‘You’ve been here twenty minutes at least, and you haven’t run screaming away from this den of iniquity I purchased. I call that a kindness. Etienne? She’s nothing like my sisters. Can we declare a truce?’
The admiral nodded towards the fireplace and a high-backed chair, where a little puff of smoke plumed. The man in the chair—she could see only his feet—didn’t move or say anything. He cleared his throat and continued to puff.
‘He’s more than usually stubborn,’ Bright whispered.
‘He sounds very much like the old ladies I tended,’ Sally whispered back. She released her grip on the admiral. ‘Let me see what I can do.’ She couldn’t help herself. ‘What is it worth to you, sir?’ she teased.
Before he spoke, the admiral gave her such a look that she felt her stomach grow warm. ‘How about a wedding ring that fits?’ he asked at last, with the humorous look she was used to already, the one that challenged her to match his wit.
‘Solid gold and crusted with diamonds,’ she teased. ‘And an emerald or two.’
Sally picked up a chair at the servants’ table and put it down next to the high-backed chair. She seated herself, not looking at the little man. ‘I’m Sophia Bright,’ she said.
There was a grunt from the chair, but nothing more.
‘Honestly, how can my husband even imagine you can work in this place, with no pots-and-pans girl, and no assistant? What was he thinking? And his sisters? That’s more than even a saint could endure. I shouldn’t be surprised if you have already packed your valise.’
Another puff. Then, ‘I have been thinking long and hard about packing.’
‘I could never blame you,’ she said, shivering a little. ‘Do you have enough bed covering down here? I believe it would be no trouble to find a proper footstool for your chair. I will go look right now.’
That was all it took. The little man got up from his chair and bowed. ‘Etienne Dupuis at your service, Lady Bright. Bah! What would I do with a footstool?’
‘Make yourself more comfortable?’ she asked, keeping her voice innocent. ‘And I will worry about you, shivering down here in the dark.’
In a moment, the chef had pulled down the lamp over the table, lit it and sent it back up. He shook coal into the grate and lit it, then turned to the Rumford. ‘Would madam care for tea?’
‘I’d love some, Etienne, but I know you are a busy man and it isn’t time for tea yet. Besides…weren’t you about to pack?’
‘I will make time,’ he said, bowing graciously again and ignoring her question. ‘I shall have Starkey serve tea on the terrace.’