An Inconvenient Wife (17 page)

Startled,
Anne whirled around. Westcott! How long had he been watching her? His
expression again noncommittal, he paced toward her. “Certainly I took to her,”
Anne said, schooling her face into what she prayed was a bland countenance. One
that did not display any of the disquiet she felt, or expose the rapid beat of
the pulse in her neck. “Your daughter is a charming girl, and I believe her to
be well-disposed toward me.” Anne took an involuntary step back as he neared.
“She is eager to meet Danielle and Guy.”

“Yes,
I expect she would be. Sarah has had little opportunity to be with other
children.” Westcott looked at her for a long moment before his hand cupped her
elbow. “It will take you some time to become familiar with the house. Allow me
show you to your rooms.”

Flustered,
Anne walked beside him, conscious of the warm fingers circling her arm,
surprised at this unexpected thoughtfulness, and undecided as to what there was
about this man to cause her normally ready tongue to fail.

“Thank
you. It is a rather confusing residence.” There, a calm, natural response, and
emboldened by the confidence in her voice, she voiced a question. “Has the family
been here forever?”

“Several
centuries. This is not the original house, of course, nor have the Blackwells
always held a viscountcy. That honour was awarded to one of my predecessors
late in Elizabeth’s reign. It was he who tore down the old castle and started
building the house. Naturally, it has been expanded upon over the years.”

“Naturally,”
Anne said, hiding her amazement at the lengthy answer. Another passageway, a
short flight of stairs and finally, a corridor she recognized by the floral
wall covering hung above the wainscoting.

Westcott
halted in front of her door and released her. “Have one of the maids escort you
until you become accustomed.”

Ah,
the real Westcott was back. Braced by the return of his brusque manner, Anne
threw out a question. “Where are the Fentons lodged?”

“For
now, they have a room close to my housekeeper’s apartment.” He hesitated, then,
“It won’t do for a permanent situation.”

Anne
gazed at him with some curiosity. Did he actually look apologetic, or was it
her imagination? Perhaps he believed her unaware of the difficulty of placing
Maggie and Bill in an acceptable slot? Neither fish nor fowl, the Fentons, and
heaven only knew what Maggie would have to say about their current
accommodations.

Somewhat
encouraged by this evidence of concern, Anne smiled at him. “No, Maggie would
never stand for it and Bill would be uncomfortable. Have you a suggestion? They
are very dear to me, as you must know by now.”

“Yes,
I gathered they have stood somewhat as parents to you. I thought a cottage on
the estate might be acceptable. Mr. Fenton has expressed interest in working
for me and said Mrs. Fenton has some plan in mind.”

Anne
huffed softly, relief flooding her. An excellent solution and one that would
suit them all. She wanted them to be happy, but could not bear the thought of
losing the two people who
knew
her.

“Maggie
would,” Anne said with a little laugh. “That is kind of you. Thank you. I
believe it will serve very well.”

Westcott
gazed at her, seeming about to say something else, but the sound of children’s
voices floated up the nearby stairwell and the moment was lost.

“Good.
I will make the arrangements. You will want to take Danielle and Guy to meet
Sarah directly after your meal. Don’t let them tire her.”

He
walked away and Anne glowered at his back. A most annoying man, Westcott. One
never knew which face he would wear but cold, stern, and militant were more the
usual than the brief glimpses she’d had of humour and friendliness.
And you
are married to the man
. Anne turned to greet the children with a heavy
heart, unsure if she had the strength to face a lifetime of living with someone
who did not even
pretend
to want her company.

~* * *~

“Lady
Westcott. If I may have a few minutes of your time?”

Anne
turned from her examination of the box of instruments she had discovered in the
so-called music room to study the neatly dressed gentleman poised in the
doorway. A youngish man, she thought, cloaked with an air of diffidence Anne
was later to revise to quiet competence, with an unremarkable but pleasant
aspect.

“I
am Thomas Atkinson, my lady. Lord Westcott asked me to confer with you about
the household.”

“I
see. Then by all means let us do so,” she said evenly, swallowing a sharp
reference to his lordship with what she felt to be admirable restraint. After
the second meeting with him on her first day here, when he had given her some,
although far from all, answers to her questions, Westcott had continued to play
least in sight, leaving her without the slightest guidance in how to go on. He
hadn’t even had the courtesy to show her the house, relying instead on Mrs.
Lawson—and Sarah, Anne had to admit, remembering the previous afternoon, when
she and Danielle had followed the girl on a delightful whirlwind tour. One that
did not include the grand rooms of state she had traversed with the
housekeeper. Instead, they had poked into odd little parlours crammed with the
flotsam of many years. It was then she had noted the dusty collection of music
and musical instruments in a box under the ancient harpsichord.

“You
are Westcott’s secretary, Mr. Atkinson?” Anne looked around, spied a pair of
chairs beside the window and moved toward them. The man had a batch of papers
in his hand and she pointed toward a small table. “If you will bring over that
table, please? We can hold this meeting here, I suppose?”
As if he had any
choice, poor man, and you should be ashamed of yourself. Just because you are
annoyed with Westcott is no reason to be cross with his employee, who is only
doing his job.

Chastened
by her lack of grace, Anne smiled and was rewarded with a tentative smile in
return. “Please, sit down.” She took a seat and waited while he arranged the
table between them and sat as well. “Have you been at Westhorp long, Mr.
Atkinson?”

“Four
years, Madam.

“So
long as that! You must have a great deal of patience to have stayed so long—in
the countryside,” Anne added quickly. Dealing with Westcott
did
require
patience, but perhaps he was less abrupt with his employees.

“I
prefer the country, so Westhorp suits me very well,” Atkinson said gravely.

Under
the measured tone and serious demeanor lurked an understanding of her real
intent and Anne warmed to the young man. “Yes, it is nice here. I am looking
forward to seeing more of the area.” She smiled. “Now, please, let’s get on
with this, shall we?”

“Of
course.” He aligned the papers with careful precision and laid a hand on the
topmost. “It is fairly straightforward. Your household account has been
arranged, as well as your personal quarterly allowance. Should either amount
prove insufficient, we can make any adjustment necessary. Also, what falls
under your authority is noted.” He looked up at her, a question in his eyes. “I
believe you did raise several questions with Lord Westcott?”

“Yes,”
Anne murmured, keeping her expression one of mild interest to mask her surprise.
Westcott apparently
had
taken note of her concerns. She held out her
hand. “May I?”

Anne
skimmed through the neatly written items, swallowing a gasp at the amount
Westcott seemed to feel a necessary allowance—how she would ever spend so much
she had no idea. The household was another story, and that amount she felt
unremarkable, although she would review the expenditures. There may be
economies, but running an establishment of this size required a shocking number
of servants and the wherewithal to support both them and the family.

“Do
we really have a staff of twenty inside the house?” Anne asked, glancing at
him, and then answered her own question before he could reply. “Of course we
do. You would certainly know, since I suppose you are responsible for paying
their wages.”

“Lord
Westcott gives out the wages personally, my lady, but yes, I do keep the
accounts.”

Anne
raised her brows. The viscount was not a man to shirk his responsibilities, but
he could delegate the chore, and she felt encouraged by this indication of
regard for his employees. Or was it only she who was held at arm’s length?
Putting aside the idea for further thought at another time, Anne folded the
papers and dropped them onto her lap.

“It
all appears quite straightforward. I don’t believe I have any questions right
now, but there is one thing you may be able to help with. I want to start the
search for a governess, as soon as possible,” she said, “and frankly, I have no
idea how to go about it.”

“The
usual method is to ask an employment agency to recommend several applicants.”
Atkinson hesitated, his manner growing less assured. “Since this is such an
important post to fill, a personal recommendation is often advisable. You will
not have met her yet, but it may be worthwhile consulting Lady Lynton. The St.
Clair estate borders Westhorp, and they are close friends with the family.

Anne
thought for a moment. “Miss Blackwell stayed with them recently, if I remember
correctly.” She laughed softly, thinking of Sarah’s excited recount of her
stay. “Yes, that does sound wise. Why not wait a few days before contacting the
agency? In the meantime, I will write to Lady Lynton.” Feeling the discussion
at an end, she stood and held out her hand. “I am pleased to meet you, Mr.
Atkinson. If there isn’t anything else….” She made it not quite a question,
eager to return to her musical treasures, and in any case, she had enough to
think about already.

He
rose and bowed over her hand. “My pleasure, my lady. Thank you for your time.
Please ask if you have any questions or I can be of help in any way.”

“Thank
you, Mr. Atkinson,” Anne said with equal solemnity. “I will be sure to do so.
Good day, sir.”

He
bowed again and walked away. A very earnest young man, she thought smiling.
Although
he is most probably older than you, Anne
. “You just feel old at times,” she
muttered crossly, and returned to the more pleasant task of rummaging through
the trunk. Sheet music lay on top, from the previous century by the condition
of it, and she gently picked up the musty folios and set them on the floor
beside her. The edges crumbling at her touch, they were beyond saving. She gave
a fleeting thought to her abandoned music library. It would not be surprising
if the new residents had tossed it aside. A shame, if so, since any of her
fellow musicians would have welcomed the collection, painstakingly gathered
from around the world.

Oblivious
to the dust accumulating on her hands and clothes, or the hard floor under her knees,
Anne picked up an oddly shaped horn. An early bassoon? Uncertain, she laid it
aside, eager to see what else might be hidden below. She drew out several
flutes of various styles, none as nice as hers, a recorder, and finally,
wrapped in a piece of leather, a stringed instrument—although the strings were
broken and tangled.

“Oh
my, a lute,” Anne breathed. She rocked back on her heels, closed the trunk, and
rested the lute against the lid. “How long have you been hidden away in there?”

“Years
and years from the looks of the thing.”

Startled,
Anne twisted around to face the fashionably dressed young woman who stood
nearby, a friendly smile on her piquant face.

“Most
certainly, and in much better condition than the former owner deserves,” Anne
managed with an aplomb that surprised her. Perhaps she was more acclimated to
this new life than she’d imagined. She struggled to her feet, brushed
ineffectually at the dust streaking her skirt, and smiled ruefully at her
unexpected guest.

“I
am sorry to greet you in such disarray. I cannot fathom why Martin did not
announce you properly.”

“Oh,
you mustn’t be annoyed with Martin. He is most distressed by my disregard for
the formalities. I have been positively in a
fever
to meet you.” She
stepped forward and held out her hand. “I am Juliette St. Clair, and you are
Anne. Westcott told us that, at least. Welcome to Hampshire.”

Anne
smiled and shook her hand. “I suspected as much, Lady Lynton. Sarah has been
talking about her stay at Lynton Hall with great enthusiasm. She had a
wonderful time.”

“Juliette,
please. I much prefer it. Having two Lady Lyntons can be dreadfully confusing.”
Not relinquishing her hold on Anne, she urged her to a chair and sat in the
other. “Sarah is such a darling. We so enjoyed having her. But I want to hear
about you. Westcott told us
nothing
,” she said with a charming little
pout, laughter dancing in her eyes.

Disarmed
by this guileless manner, Anne laughed. “He is rather taciturn at times.”

Juliette
blinked and crowed with laughter. “Yes, one might describe him so!”

Enchanted
by this merry girl, Anne’s smile widened into what she feared was a foolish
grin, but by heaven, it felt good, this antidote to the tension and worry of
the past few weeks.