Page 36 of A Housekeeper for the Earl of Drinkwater
So, she decided to put even more effort into working hard to help the earl with his endeavours in restoring the estate. She would also ensure thathealways had everything he needed in good order, and a decent dinner at night.If I can just learn to cook,she thought with a sigh.
She left her room and walked up the stairs, feeling the ridiculous urge to tiptoe or steal through the shadows to the first floor. She supposed it was because she was about to start in the countess’s room first rather than last.
Emily had been keeping the chamber tidy enough around the countess’s sickbed. But now, Serena was pleased to have the chance to give it a good, proper cleaning. And perhaps even speak to the countess.
She does not speak, silly,Serena scolded herself. According to everyone she had spoken to, Lady Drinkwater had not spoken a word in weeks. She also knew that everyone except Emily and the earl largely avoided the countess; how could one relate to a woman who could not, or would not, speak.
Suddenly, Serena had an idea. Perhaps it was also a foolish one. But maybe it wasn’t. No one else had tried, as far as she knew, so how could she know for sure? The only way to find out would be to take a chance. And if it went well, then perhaps, she would have done something good.
Despite herself, she tiptoed up to the door of the countess’s bedchambers. She peeked in through the slightly open door, relieved to see that no one, apart from Lady Drinkwater in her bed, was inside.
She quietly pushed the door open and slipped inside, pushing it to behind her. She held her breath, watching to see if she had disturbed the sleeping countess, but she did not stir. Then, Serena set about working.
As she moved some tattered books from the bookshelves to begin dusting, there was a rustling sound behind her. It startled her, and she dropped one of the books to the floor, where it made a soft thud against her foot.
She gasped, not out of pain, but out of surprise, and she looked toward the bed. She flushed when she saw the countess looking straight at her. And it looked as though she was trying to smile.
“Please, forgive me, Lady Drinkwater,” she said, her cheeks growing hotter by the minute. “I did not mean to disturb you.”
The countess’s mouth twitched again, and Serena thought she might speak. But a moment later, it stilled, though the countess’s eyes did not leave her. Had she been trying to smile at Serena? Had she been amused by Serena’s clumsiness?
Feeling nervous and excited, Serena put down the remaining books, picking up the one that had fallen, and slowly approached the bed. She smiled, hoping she looked surer of herself than she felt.
“My name is Serena White, my lady,” she said softly, bobbing a curtsey. “I am the new housekeeper.”
The countess’s brow furrowed slightly, but she did not speak. Serena thought she understood what the countess was thinking. She hoped she did, at least. She explained about Mrs. Chantry’s illness and her plan to retire soon, and how she herself had come to be employed at Chimneys. The countess stared at her intently as she spoke. When Serena had finished, the frail woman nodded her head.
Feeling encouraged, Serena smiled again.
“I do so love working here, my lady,” she said. “And I am thrilled to meet you at last. I wanted to come sooner, but I feared disturbing your rest.”
The countess shook her head, giving her another weak smile. Then, her face grew thoughtful, and she studied Serena carefully.
Serena blushed, once more taking a guess at what she was thinking.
“If my name sounds familiar to you, it is because my father was Baron Dennis White,” she said. “And my mother was Baroness Lyndsay White.”
The countess’s face lit up for just a moment with recognition. Then, Serena’s meaning must have struck her, and her smile and the light in her eyes faded into sadness.
“Yes, my mother died just a couple of months ago,” she said, biting her lip to hold back tears. “And my father died a few years ago. I cared for mother until she died. And then, I found myself seeking employment, and . . . here I am!”
Serena nearly gasped when the countess reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. Her heart beat wildly as she looked into the sickly woman’s face. Lady Drinkwater gave her a sympathetic smile, which Serena returned.
“Thank you, my lady,” she said, not needing to guess what the countess would have said had she been able. “I miss them dearly. But coming here to Chimneys has been good for me. And I believe that meeting you has been my favourite part so far.”
The countess beamed again, and Serena’s heart soared. Even though she could not say so, Lady Drinkwater seemed to be enjoying her company. Serena was certainly enjoying hers, and she vowed to herself to come and spend a little time with the poor lady every day, if only for a few minutes.
She made good on her silent vow in the coming days. First, she just spent time talking with the countess while she cleaned, sitting with her for a few minutes on the days when the countess was still awake, before she reluctantly moved on to tend to other rooms on the second floor.
Lady Drinkwater listened attentively as Serena told her stories of the little mishaps or problems of the day at the manor. She gazed fondly at Serena whenever she spoke of her growing love of the mansion, and how much she admired and respected the earl and all the effort he was putting into revitalising the house and estate.
Then, when there was no more cleaning to be done except a little dusting and sweeping, Serena continued visiting the countess simply to brighten up the room a little for her. She replaced the old, dull curtains with some bright drapes she’d found packed away, largely untouched by dust and decay, which she’d washed herself.
She replaced the moth eaten old canopy to the bed with a fresh flower-patterned one, and every few days, she brought up a vase or two of flowers, much to the countess’s obvious delight. The chamber no longer seemed like a sickroom.
One day, Serena brought in a grand bouquet of lilies. The countess gasped, opening her mouth, and working it as though she might speak. She did not, however, but the bright expression did not leave her face for hours.
“Do you like lilies?” Serena asked, carrying them to the vase she had placed by the bed. “I found lots of them in the garden. They'd rather run wild.”
