Page 38 of A Housekeeper for the Earl of Drinkwater
“Sometimes, what you seek has been right in front of you all the time,” he said. “One thing I know for sure is that it is not behind you.”
Edward opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The bailiff was not expecting an answer, apparently. He silently tipped his hat and turned to go back to his farm. Edward stood dumbfounded until he could no longer see Stamp. Then, at last, he too turned and went back inside the manor.
The following morning, he dressed, but he did not head straight outside. He realised, after a night of dreams of his childhood, that he had not been in to see about his mother in days. Guilt flooded him as he hurried down the hall.
He braced himself for more of her catatonic staring, or sleeping, and nothing but silence as he stood awkwardly beside her bed. She had held his hand, but only twice, and her fingers were so thin and fragile that it made Edward uncomfortable. Part of him hoped she would be sleeping so he could just get to work for the day.
But just as his mother’s bedchamber door was within reach, he stopped in his tracks. The sound of laughter came from the room, and his heart began to race. He had not heard anyone laugh so gaily in far too long, and he wondered if he might be dreaming. When he entered the room, he was suddenly sure he must be.
His mother was sitting up in bed, wearing a fresh robe, her hair neatly brushed, holding a small plate of something in her lap. Moreover, there was a cup of what he assumed to be tea sitting on her table beside her, where her laudanum usually sat. But most surprising of all was that she was smiling.
When the shock of seeing his mother looking anything other than barely conscious wore off, he noticed the company. The new housekeeper was sitting beside the countess, a tray of what appeared to be miniature pastries and teas things balanced on her lap. She looked up when he entered; they stared at one another for a long moment, and his heart seemed to stop when she blushed.
“Good day, my lord,” she said, quickly setting aside the tray to rise and curtsey. “I hope you do not mind, but I have been visiting the countess each day when I come in to clean. And today, I made her some almond pastries to go with her tea. I hear they are her favourites.”
Edward pulled his gaze away from the young housekeeper to take in the room. He only then noticed the change that had occurred. Rather than dust and gloom, there were fresh, yellow drapes at the windows and a flowery bed canopy brightening the room, and the colours of the rugs glowed. Vases filled with lilies, which he knew were his mother’s favourite flowers, adorned the various surfaces. On the nightstand next to his mother’s cup of tea, he saw a pile of periodicals of different types. One lay open, as if she’d been reading it. To say he was filled with amazement was an understatement.
“This change is quite incredible, Miss White!” Edward said, looking at her in wonder, not sure if he meant the room, the condition of his mother, or both. “You have, as ever, done an outstanding job.”
Incrediblewas the weakest of understatements, he reflected. Magical, miraculous, perhaps—he simply could not find the words to tell the young housekeeper how touched he was by her enormous efforts, and her kindness, in bringing comfort to the ailing countess.
Only then did he realise the contrast between himself and the housekeeper; he’d already decided he’d never see his mother smiling or eating again, but she hadn’t given up so easily, and it was all he could do not to weep. He looked at his mother, and his heart stopped when she gave him the first strong, genuine smile he'd seen on her face since coming home from the war.
“Mother, you are looking so much better,” he cried. Part of him hoped she would answer him, but the bigger part of him was simply thrilled to see her eating.Eating,he thought, practically bursting with joy.
The countess lifted her chin a little, and then she reached for her cup of tea. Edward could see the housekeeper watching her closely, but not moving to help her. He frowned, taking a step to assist his mother, but he stopped instantly. With a hand that trembled only slightly, the countess put the cup to her lips and took a sip.
Edward gaped at his mother, long enough to elicit a laugh from Miss White.
“I do hope this is not too much of a shock for you, my lord,” she said. “This is the first time Her ladyship and I have had high tea together and partaken of pastries.”
Edward shook his head, his mind reeling. He hid his hands behind his back and pinched himself to check he was not dreaming. When he was satisfied he was not, he smiled.
“Would you mind if I joined you for tea, Mother?” he asked.
His mother’s face lit up, and seeing it, the housekeeper spoke for her.
“Her Ladyship insists, my lord, and I would be honoured,” she said. “There are plenty of pastries and half a pot of tea left.”
He looked at Miss White, his smile widening. Was she responsible for all of this? Was she the reason his mother was eating at last?
“Wonderful,” he said, stepping further into the room. He fetched a chair from a corner and headed back toward his mother’s bed. He was surprised to see the housekeeper get up and move her own chair aside, to allow him to sit by his mother. And more surprised still when his mother looked at her and shook her head.
“You do not want Lord Drinkwater to sit beside you?” Miss White asked the old lady.
The countess turned her head, looking at the spot directly beside Miss White’s chair.
“Oh,” the housekeeper said, blushing as she looked at Edward. “She wants you to sit beside me, so we can both sit close to her, I expect.”
The countess smiled and nodded, and Edward stared in awe. How did the housekeeper know what his mother wanted when she could not speak a word?
More delighted and impressed than ever, Edward complied with his mother’s wishes. It was the closest he’d come to communicating with her since returning home, and he would have flown to the moon if she’d ever communicated such a wish to him before. Anything that meant she continued to get better was well worth the effort to him.
“Would you like one, my lord?” Miss White asked, holding out the tray of pastries.
“I certainly would,” he said, taking one. “Did you say these are almond pastries?”
The housekeeper blushed again and nodded. Edward was once more taken with how beautiful she looked with the pink of her cheeks offsetting her peachy complexion.
