Elizabeth Mansfield (10 page)

“And why haven’t you a letter of commendation?”

“Because the fellow died before I could get one.”

Hicks groaned and stamped his foot in annoyance. “Because the ‘gentleman’
passed on
without warning and didn’t make arrangements for your future, you idiot!”

“Sorry,” Tom said with an abashed grin. “I didn’t think I had to use those exact words.”

“Well, you
do
, so let’s hear ’em. Why haven’t you a letter?”

Tom straightened, took on a stiff, footmanlike impassivity and repeated obediently, “Because the gentleman passed on without warning, your ladyship, and didn’t make any arrangements for my future.”

“Very well. And now you, fellow. Your name, please?”

“Daniel Hicks, ma’am.”

“And your last employer?”

“I was gardener to the same gentleman as Thomas, here.”

“Right. And therefore you couldn’t get a letter either. As for you, Betsy Hicks, do
you
have a letter from your last employer?”

“Yes, ma’am, here it is.”

“Good.” He dropped the aloof manner and shook a warning finger at Betsy. “Now, girl, remember that since the letter says nothing about your last establishment being an inn, you needn’t
volunteer
the information that you were a barmaid. But if Miss Camilla should ask, tell the truth. There’s no use in lying more than absolutely necessary.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes,
Mr. Hicks!
How many times must I remind you? I’m not your master. And the same goes for Miss Townley. But be sure you always call Miss Camilla ‘your ladyship or’ ‘my lady’ or ‘ma’am.’”

“Then how is it, Uncle, that ye call ’er Miss Camilla?” Daniel asked.

“Because I’ve known her since she was a babe. And, to speak the truth, I shouldn’t call her that either. I only kept it up to spite Lady Ethelyn. It’s a terrible habit with me now. But Daniel, how many times must I remind you not to call me Uncle? It must be
Mr. Hicks
at all times, so you fall into the habit of it.”

“Aye, aye, Uncle,” Daniel agreed readily.

Tom chortled, but Hicks groaned in irritation. “
Yes, Mr. Hicks!
” he corrected angrily, glaring at Tom for laughing. “Those aye-ayes’ll give you both away one of these days. Silly tomdoodles, both of you!”

“Don’t be nervous, Uncle,” Betsy murmured comfortingly, coming up to him and planting a kiss on his cheek. “We won’t joke in front of her ladyship, I promise.” She gave Tom a reproving, meaningful look. “Isn’t that right, Tom?”

“Aye, that’s right, my dear. I’ll be so inaudible and invisible that her ladyship’ll think I’m only a piece of furniture.”

“Me, too, Uncle,” Daniel promised.

Hicks sighed deeply. Somehow he knew that the afternoon was going to be a terrible ordeal. He felt it in his bones.

***

Camilla had taken rooms in the Fenton on St. James Street so that she could oversee the final steps required to ready the house for their occupancy. The suite had two bedrooms (one for Pippa and Miss Townley and the other for herself) and a large sitting room. It was there that Hicks (who himself was already esconced in the new house) was bringing the various candidates whom he’d chosen to make up the household staff. Camilla had permitted Pippa to run off to explore the neighborhood in the company of Miss Townley, while she herself was occupied with this household business.

It was a great bore to have to stay inside and interview servants when she could be strolling along the busy thoroughfares of London’s most fashionable neighborhood, but Hicks seemed to feel that her approval of his choices was absolutely necessary. As a result, she’d moved a table from behind the sofa to a sunny spot before a pair of windows and taken a seat behind it. In the business-like manner recommended by Miss Townley, she’d spoken briefly to each candidate Hicks had brought in, nodded her approval and then carefully entered into a large household-ledger book that person’s name, the salary Hicks had promised, the name of the former employer and the title of the exact position for which the person had been engaged. It was all a rather mindless ritual, but it seemed to please Hicks greatly.

Camilla knew quite well that this was a futile exercise. Hicks had made his own records of the information she was recording, and Camilla was certain that all his decisions would be beyond reproach. The only thing that had been left to her discretion was the assigning of the rooms where the servants were to sleep, and even that could easily have been done by Hicks without her help. But both Hicks and Miss Townley had felt that the ritual was required in order to impress the staff. Since Camilla had made up her mind to be a firm and respected mistress of her new establishment, she’d agreed to do what was expected of her.

She had already interviewed and approved Hicks’s choice of a cook, two parlormaids, a groom, two scullery maids, a gardner and a coachman, all of whom seemed perfectly suitable, and she would have become quite bored with the proceedings except that Hicks seemed increasingly nervous as the afternoon wore on. She wondered what was troubling him, and her curiosity sharpened her perceptions. When he brought in all three final candidates together, rather than one at a time, the change of routine made her suddenly alert. “Yes, Hicks, whom have we here?” she asked with more interest than she’d felt all afternoon.

“The two footmen and the upstairs maid, my lady. This one here and the woman are a couple, and the other fellow is their friend. That’s why I’ve brought them in together. Here’s a letter from the lady’s former employer.”

Camilla scanned the letter quickly. “
Betsy Hicks?
” she asked with a smile. “Are these people related to you, Hicks?”

He reddened. “Daniel, here, is my nephew, your ladyship.”

“Is
that
why you’ve seemed so uncomfortable?” Camilla smiled in relief. “Did you think I would disapprove of your hiring your relations? You needn’t worry on that score, Hicks. I don’t mind at all. In fact, if your nephew is half as valuable to me as you’ve been, I shall be more than satisfied.”

“Thank you, Miss Camilla,” Hicks said, feeling more guilty than ever.

“Is your name Daniel? Why is there no letter here about you, Daniel?”

Daniel colored. “Well … y’ see I was … er … gardener for … er … Dr. Newton Plumb of Derbyshire … an’ he passed away sudden-like, y’see …”

Hicks felt like giving the slow-top a kick in his rear. “Dr. Plumb passed on before giving a thought to the future of any of his domestics,” he offered in quick collaboration, throwing his nephew a look of annoyance.

“Oh, I see. But if Daniel is a gardener, Hicks, is there any special reason why you’ve made him a footman?”

“A couple of reasons, ma’am. One is that if he works in-doors, he’ll be close enough to his missus to be able to give her a hand with the heavy work when her time comes near. She’s having a baby, you may have noticed. And second, he’s worked close with this other fellow, back there, so I’ve kept them together.”

“Very well, Hicks, you know best in these matters. I shall give your Daniel and his Betsy the corner room on the third floor. It’s the most adequate room for a couple, I think, and shall afford them some privacy. And, Betsy, I believe it is large enough to be able to accommodate a cradle when you need it.”

“Oh,
thank
you, my lady,” Betsy murmured, bobbing gratefully.

“In the meantime, Hicks, you must be sure Betsy isn’t given work which is too heavy for her, even if her husband is near by.”

“Yes, my lady. I had that in mind when I made her upstairs maid. So long as he does the fireplaces for her, she’ll easily manage the rest.”

“Good.” Camilla made the appropriate entries in her ledger and then looked up at the third member of the group who was hanging back in the shadows. “And what is the name of the other footman, Hicks?”

“Collinson, ma’am. Thomas Collinson,” the butler answered.

“And he has no letter either?”

Hicks motioned with his head for Tom to step forward and speak his piece, but Tom hung back. Hicks clenched his fists in fury. “Since he was employed by the same Dr. Plumb, he’s faced with the same problem,” he responded, almost twitching with irritation at having to lie again, and without the assistance of the fellow who, more than the others, stood to gain from the subterfuge.

“Were you footman for this Dr. Plumb, Thomas?” Camilla asked squinting into the shadows.

“Yes, my lady,” he answered in almost a whisper.

“You needn’t be afraid to speak up, fellow. Step forward, please. You seem to be unduly shy for a footman.”

Tom took a step forward. “Not shy, ma’am. I’m just—” A glare from Hicks reminded him of his instructions to keep his answers as brief as possible, so he clamped his mouth shut. A
footman should attempt to be invisible and inaudible
, he reminded himself. “You’re just what, Thomas?” Camilla encouraged, looking at him curiously.

“Just self-effacing, as a footman should be,” he responded, unable to treat the situation with proper seriousness. He couldn’t seem to take any of what had happened to him in the past week seriously. He seemed to be living in some limbo-like state between the reality of his shipboard life and a nebulous future which he couldn’t fathom. This footman business was somehow unreal—an enormous joke that life was playing on him, a temporary aberration that would right itself somehow … and some day soon. He couldn’t
really
spend his life doing household service. Carrying wood for the fireplace, polishing silver, dressing up in livery to answer a door—those things were not serious work. They were parts of a
children’s game, like playing house. A man had to do the
real
work of the world—soldiering, or building roads, or sailing a vessel across an ocean.

Something of his inner feelings must have shown in the tone of his voice, because he became aware of Daniel’s worried glance and a flashing glare from the eyes of the elderly butler whose neck was growing red. Embarrassed, he tried to back surreptitiously into the shadows again.

But Lady Wyckfield (who was looking even more lovely than he remembered, sitting there in front of the windows with the sunlight etching magical highlights in her hair) was staring at him with an arrested look. Something in the ironic tone of his answer had triggered her memory. For a moment everything seemed to hang suspended—each person in the room watching unmoving, her ladyship’s hand hanging in the air over her ledger halted on its way to her cheek. Then she blinked and gasped. “Good
God!
It’s the
libertine
who accosted me in the
kitchen!
”

Betsy clapped her hands to her mouth in dismay. Daniel gulped. But Hicks could only gape at his mistress in utter confusion. “What’s that you’re saying, Miss Camilla?”

“
Of course!
” Camilla exclaimed, rising to her feet. “These are the three who came seeking you in Dorset. They invaded the kitchen at Wyckfield Park, and
that one
had the temerity to assault me on the stairs!”

Poor Hicks could scarcely believe his ears. It was bad enough that they were hiding from the authorities for having escaped from impressment, but this latest crime was too much! “Is this true?” he croaked, staring at the trio as if he’d just discovered they were lepers. “How could you have
done
such a thing?”

“It was all a … a misunderstandin’, ye might say,” Daniel mumbled miserably. “I’m truly sorry, Uncle. We thought she was a housemaid.”

“Her ladyship a
housemaid?
Are you all
loony?
”

“Well, in fairness, Hicks,” Camilla put in, already filled with sympathy for the pregnant girl who was looking quite stricken, “I
was
wearing an apron—”

But Hicks was beside himself. Already having been functioning on the far edge of nervous balance, he was completely unsettled by this last blow. Hardly aware that he was interrupting his mistress in the middle of a sentence, he shouted, “That’s not the least excuse! Any
fool
should be able to see that Miss Camilla is a lady no matter what she wears!” He waved his arms in the air, trying with gestures of frustration to express to each of the three his unmitigated revulsion. “And to think you let me recommend you to her ladyship, knowing all the while that this had taken place and not even telling me a
word
—”

“But, y’ see, Uncle,” Betsy said, the tears forming in the corners of her eyes, “the c-cook said that her l-ladyship’d never remember—”

“Never
remember?
Never remember being accosted on her own
stairs?
” Hicks, almost apoplectic, turned away in speechless chagrin.

Betsy came up behind him, the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Please, Uncle,” she whispered tremulously, “don’t take on so. We’re terrible sorry …”

“Aye,” Daniel sighed hopelessly, “we never meant to—”

“Whay good are your sorrys?” the old man burst out. “I can never face Miss Camilla again with my head up.”

“Can’t you now!” Tom snorted in sudden and violent disgust. “We’ve made you lose face, have we? What a terrible pass we’ve pushed you to. Perhaps we should all fall on our swords, like the Romans, or disembowel ourselves in shame, like the Orientals.” He strode across the room and placed himself squarely in front of Camilla. “Put an end to this muddle, ma’am. Tell the old fellow you’re not
put out with him, and let him proceed with hiring his relations.
I
was the only one to blame in all this. I’ll go at once and permit the rest of you to get on with your business.”

He turned and started for the door, but Daniel blocked the way. “Shut up, can’t ye?” he muttered in an angry whisper. “Y’ ain’t the mate here, y’ know.”

“I’m sorry, Daniel, but I’ve no patience with all this. I don’t think I’m cut out for household service. You and Betsy’ll do better without me.”

“Well, we ain’t goin’ to do without ye. We’ve stood up together, an’ we’ll fall together. Come on, Betsy, we’d best take ourselves off.”

“I tell you, there’s no need to give up a good place,” Tom insisted. “I’ll find something—”

“I said no,” Daniel retorted. “We been through this afore, an’ ye know my feelin’s. Come on, Betsy.”