Page 46 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
He nodded. “This waistcoat was done by Mr. Timms, of Bond Street. He’s doing another for me, of cream silk and embroidery of teal and the palest pink. I came up with the design myself.”
“I look forward to seeing it, then.”
“It will be a while yet, madam. But in a little over a month’s time, I’ll have a fine, new piece to include in my wardrobe. As I’m sure you know, quality work is worth waiting for.”
“Well, I’m glad enough to hear you think so, for quality work is exactly what I shall be looking for.”
He looked surprised but bowed. That one would bear watching. He tried to appear at ease, but there were tell-tale signs of tension in him. The only thing that did feel sincere about him, in fact, was the hint of malice in his eyes as he straightened. Nodding, she moved on to meet the cook, Mrs. Prigg. The woman wore a wary expression and an unsightly, soiled apron.
Charlotte’s fingers twitched. Oh, this was going to be a challenge. She wanted suddenly, to sketch each of them. To observe and study.
Margie was next. She was the maid who had been so inebriated and embarrassed last night. Old Alf was the footman who had been stretched out on the floor. He still looked cupshot, to be honest. After that, there were two more housemaids, two kitchen maids and the hall boy, who lurked in the back.
“Is there no housekeeper?” she asked in surprise as the introductions were finished.
“Can’t keep one,” Margie volunteered.
“We do well enough without one,” Hurley said, shooting the maid a silencing look.
Charlotte ran a dubious gaze around and then nodded and smiled. “Then it will fall to you to give me a tour, Hurley.” She held out a hand to Chapman, who handed her a notebook.
“Of course.” Hurley gave her a condescending smile and gestured toward the room behind her. “The main rooms begin here, at the front parlor.”
“Not just the main rooms. I want to see everything,” Charlotte clarified.
“Everything?”
“All of it. Every nook and cranny,” she confirmed. “I gather it will take some time. Let’s begin.” She looked to the maids. “Margie, I will put you in charge of starting on my rooms while I am busy with the tour. Take the other girls with you. I want the mattress taken out, as well as the bed hangings and the curtains. After they are gone, you can start cleaning and polishing everything, from ceiling to floor.”
Margie’s eyes widened. “Yes, my lady.”
Charlotte spent the rest of the morning and the early afternoon forcing Hurley to take her all over the house. He tried to skip several spots, but she insisted on seeing it all, from the attics, to the servants’ quarters, family and formal rooms, to the kitchens, pantries, wine cellar and storage cellars. She made intricate notes in each room and when they were done, she sat down in Gabriel’s sitting room to a late luncheon of lukewarm soup and coarse bread, going over everything and prioritizing tasks.
With a sigh, she pushed away the unappetizing food and drew out another notebook. She summoned Chapman, determined to begin on the second prong of her plan.
“I need a few more moments of your time,” she told the valet when he answered. “Come and sit. You’ve been with Lord Whiddon long enough to thoroughly know his tastes . . .”
