Page 6 of A Lady's Curves
“That is one of many good questions.” I’m always filled with warmth when Lady Honoria is present. She’s what the Evertons call a dowager. She never takes on assignments for herself, but she chaperons and is a great source of wisdom.
“Lady Jane told me that his lordship has left the residence.” She sits on the chair near the hearth. “This is a cozy room.”
I suppose it is. “His lordship is a moody sort. He’s gone to stay at his club. At least, that’s what the note he sent this morning said. I have written to the pensioned butler and housekeeper who preceded those who abandoned the house. It seems they are a married couple who the earl pensioned ten months ago. The recently hired steward replaced them for his scheme. The three thieves left together about a month ago with one ofthe maids. The earl wishes our discretion concerning the funds removed from the estate’s accounts.”
Shaking her head, Honoria sighs. “Proud man.”
“Indeed.” It’s been a full day since I’ve seen Oscar Stafford, but my attraction for him hasn’t waned any more than my rage toward him. It’s a mystery to me how those two things can exist within me regarding the same person. “With Lady Jane’s help, I have lined up a few interviews this afternoon. We must find two footmen, a downstairs maid, and a lady’s maid for Miss Bartholomew.”
“That is quite a lot to accomplish, but we can manage.” Honoria is always optimistic. It’s one of the things I love about her.
Carriage wheels sound out front.
I rise to answer the door, but as I arrive in the foyer, the door swings open. A gray-haired man dressed impeccably as a butler with a black coat and perfectly tied cravat steps in and narrows his gaze at the house. When he looks at me, he asks, “Are you Miss Wittman?”
Closing the distance, I curtsy. “Miss Ann Wittman.”
He bows. “Theodore Jenkin. You may call me Jenkin.” He turns and takes the hand of a woman in a dark-blue day dress. “This is my wife, Pamela Jenkin. We are the former butler and housekeeper of this house. Your note was unexpected, Miss Wittman.”
“That is an understatement.” Mrs. Jenkin steps forward. “Has his lordship reconsidered pensioning us?”
I’m unable to discern if Mrs. Jenkin is joking. “His lordship is in need of your help as the staff who replaced you were inadequate and hence are no longer here.” It’s not exactly the entire truth, but not false either.
A wide grin pulls at Mrs. Jenkin’s lips forcing her full cheeks to plump.
Mr. Jenkin frowns. “And are we to be compensated or is our pension meant to be our salary? For how long does his lordship intend to keep us on?” His heavy gray-and-black eyebrows pull together. “Who says that we want to go back to work? We don’t owe the Earl of Kendall anything.”
“No indeed.” His wife fists her hands, then crosses them over her chest. “Tossed us out with only a day’s notice. We’ve had to go and live with my sister. Imagine that after all our years of service.”
It is an appalling way to have treated people in his employ. “If you will come into the study and sit down. I’ll have tea brought up, and we can discuss the entire situation and your compensation going forward.”
Mrs. Jenkin grins. “I like the sound of that. A far cry more polite than that Belliston chap who sent us packing.”
Lady Chervil says, “You will find that when an Everton Lady is in the house, things become much more civilized. I am Lady Honoria Chervil and will be assisting Miss Wittman and Miss Bartholomew for the season.”
We make our way as a group into the study. I pull the bell for tea, then sit in one of the chairs around the low table. “Please have a seat.”
“Miss Bartholomew? Isn’t that his lordship’s niece?” Jenkin waits for all three ladies to sit before he does so with his back perfectly straight and his eyes narrowed on me.
“I haven’t seen her since she was a child. What is she doing here?” Mrs. Jenkin’s expression has softened since entering the house.
Unsure how much to explain, I say, “His lordship is sponsoring Louisa for her first season. I will assist in finding her a suitable match. I will also be helping with his three estates. The former steward left them in a bit of a mess and took with himthe butler and housekeeper he’d hired, along with the downstairs maid.”
“Erma? I never trusted that girl.” Mrs. Jenkin huffs and grips the arm of the settee until her knuckles are white.
I feel the tide is turning in my favor. “As you can imagine, the remaining staff were without guidance and when I arrived, the dust was thick, making the home unlivable. I’ve given what instruction I can and the cleaning has been done, but we are woefully understaffed and I am neither a housekeeper nor a butler.”
They both nod with serious expressions tugging their mouths into straight lines. Jenkin’s chest puffs out and his shoulders go back farther.
“I was hoping you both might come back to work. I’ve been authorized to offer you a twenty percent increase in your salaries and when you are ready to retire, the pensions will be far more fitting to your station.” I lower my eyes to the rust and beige rug and wait.
Jenkin huffs a big growly sound.
Mrs. Jenkin says, “For what we have been put through, Oscar Stafford can make it twenty-five percent and no tossing us out without proper notice.” She points her finger at me.
Smiling on the inside, I give them each a serious look. “I can agree to twenty-five percent and no one will be tossing you anywhere. I have his lordship’s word that you will be able to work here until you are ready to leave, and at that time, the estate will take far better care of you.”
They look at each other and some silent agreement is made before Mr. Jenkin stands and offers his hand. “We accept. We can come back tomorrow with our things and be ready to get to work.”
