Page 34 of His Darling Duchess
“Shall we start in the kitchens?” Aurelia smoothed her skirts and rose to her feet. “I am not one of those ladies who will never set foot below stairs,” she advised when Mrs. Henley looked surprised. “I won’t undermine your authority by over-riding your decisions unless I absolutely must, but I wish to be aware of what goes on in my home.”
“Very good, my lady.”
There wasn’t really any other response the housekeeper could have made, Aurelia mused as they made their way to the massive kitchen at the rear of the house, but Mrs. Henley didn’t seem disapproving. On the contrary, she seemed predisposed to share all the considerable knowledge at her disposal, pausing at each door they passed to show Aurelia the room inside and name its purpose.
I will need a journal to make notes on everything I’m learning, Aurelia thought, and silently resolved to ask Stowe if he had an unused blank journal somewhere she could use, or if she might find somewhere to purchase one in the village.
The servants scurrying past in the course of their morning work cast her startled looks and made hasty bows and curtsies. For the most part, Mrs. Henley waved them on about their duties, remarking to Aurelia that she would soon learn all their names, but two senior parlour-maids and the under-butler were introduced, which Aurelia supposed made sense as those three were servants she was likely to have frequent contact with.
The kitchen was vast, with two massive fireplaces banishing any hint of the wintry cold outside. The head cook, a Mr. Roderick, stood at a table in the centre rolling out pastry and calling out orders to the under-cooks and maids who rushed about at his direction.
Aurelia would rather not be a distraction, but she supposed it was inevitable that everything would come to an abrupt halt at her appearance. Mr. Roderick was keen to show off the kitchen operations, guiding her around the well-stocked larders, a massive scullery with every kind of pot and pan imaginable stored on large racks, a stillroom with an impressive array of herbs and spices, and even outside to the dairy.
“I think you would be the envy of every cook in the realm, Mr. Roderick, with such a domain,” Aurelia told the cook when theyhad finished. “Nevertheless, I will still ask if there is anything else you feel could be done to improve the kitchens?”
“A Rumford stove,” the cook replied immediately. He pointed to the two fireplaces and the ovens built into the walls surrounding them. “The fireplaces were adapted according to the Rumford design and have made a vast improvement, but we could replace one of them with a Rumford stove. They cook much more efficiently, with a consistent temperature, and are excellent for baking the most delicate pastries and cakes.”
“I will mention it to his Grace,” Aurelia promised, obviously pleasing Mr. Roderick who beamed at her and insist she try some jam tarts which had just been baked and were cooling on a large rack before she and the housekeeper moved on to the next part of the house.
Shrugging off his greatcoat, Rhys passed it to the waiting footman with a word of thanks before taking a seat and letting the man help him remove his soaking boots. It had begun to sleet as he returned from visiting the tenant farmer whose message had been awaiting his return, and he was quite soaked through.
“I’ll go upstairs and get some fresh stockings from Harris first,” he said, waving away the offered shoes. Padding through the house in damp stockinged feet, he thought with some mild amusement that civilian life was making him spoiled.
“Good afternoon, m’lord.” Harris was ready with dry stockings in hand, clean trousers, shirt and jacket waiting on the bed, when Rhys entered his bedroom. “A pleasant ride, m’lord?”
“Until the skies opened up on me, indeed,” Rhys agreed, but he eyed the valet curiously. “I know that tone, Harris; why have I earned your disapproval today?”
“It’s hardly my place to approve or disapprove of anything you might choose to do, your grace. Some might say it’s the height of bad manners to leave a new bride alone on her first day in her new home. I’d never dare, of course.”
Rhys felt suddenly cold. “Aurelia? Is she all right?”
“Oh, the duchess had a lovely morning. She has Mrs. Henley eating out of the palm of her hand, the cook came to ask me for the direction to her family home so he may write to their cook and inquire about her favourite dishes, and the scullery-maid was in tears.”
“Why was the scullery-maid in tears?”
“Apparently, the duchess asked to inspect the scullery-maid’s quarters, saying she is quite aware which servant in a household has the lowest status and she will not have the scullery-maid or any other servant living in miserable conditions when she has the power to do something about it.”
“Isn’t the scullery-maid your niece, Harris?” Rhys asked thoughtfully.
“Indeed she is, and grateful for the position. Jane’s a hard-working girl and Mr. Roderick plans to promote her to assistant under-cook soon enough. Not given to fits of much emotion, our Jane, and yet when the duchess inspected her room and said she rather thought Jane could do with a new blanket and should definitely have a pillow on her bed, Jane was reduced to tears of gratitude.”
Yet more examples of Aurelia’s kindness, Rhys thought. He’d abandoned her without even waiting to greet her that morning, never thinking how nervous she must be to begin taking up her duties as mistress of Stowe Park, and the very first thing she did was investigate how the lowest of those now under her care weretreated. No wonder Harris looked ready to go to battle on her behalf.
“I do not deserve her,” Rhys said aloud, and Harris sniffed, rolling up the wet stockings.
“You most certainly do not.”
“I really did need to visit the Bellamy farm. Their barn is dangerously close to collapse.” Even as Rhys said it, he knew it was no excuse. He could have sent his land steward, with authorisation to do whatever the man deemed fit.
Harris’ expression said exactly what he thought of Rhys’s rationalisation. “Undoubtedly a task only you could perform, your grace,” he said sardonically.
“Thank you, I take your point.” Feeling suitably chastised, Rhys pulled on his clean clothes, slipped on a pair of shoes and rose to his feet. “Since you are apparently aware of everything my wife has been doing, might you point me in her current direction?”
“I believe she planned to assist the butler and Mrs. Henley in taking inventory of a large delivery of wine which arrived yesterday, my lord.”
The wine-cellar was the first place to look, then, and Rhys made his way there at once. Halfway down the stone steps, he heard his wife’s voice floating up towards him, and paused briefly to listen to her words.
“You have very little stock of brandy, does his Grace not care for it?”
