Page 13 of The Jilted Duchess
"I see," Alexandra nodded thoughtfully. "It was as well she did so. I wouldn't have wanted to be abed any longer myself. I would like to be woken at seven in future, if you would, Margot."
"As you say, Your Grace," Margot said cheerfully, going to her bag and starting to unpack it with a care that warmed Alexandra's heart. She didn't have polish, but then neither did either of her employers, and propriety could be learned. It was enough that she clearly cared about doing a good job. "Here's a nice bit of muslin that you could wear today as your dress if you like it?"
"I do, bring it over here and help me dress please, I want to get started with the estate. I am sure there is a lot for me to get to grips with."
"I guess there would be," Margot said, bringing over the dress and starting to help her out of her nightgown. It was so much easier with another pair of hands. Alexandra glanced at herself in the mirror and lamented privately over her hair. After last night, it could have easily been a bird's nest. "His Grace does a lot of business around places so we do a lot ourselves you might say."
"That is what I am here for from now on," Alexandra said firmly. "Please fetch my hairbrush, Margot. I shall make myself presentable and then get started."
Margot looked a little doubtful, perhaps wondering what a young lady such as herself would be able to do with such a big estate on her own, but Alexandra had been working around menher whole life and knew how to make it work. She would manage this place just as efficiently as she had always managed back home. It would be an estate to be proud of. She would earn her place here.
"Oh there you are, Your Grace!" the exclamation came from a woman so small and so vibrant that Alexandra thought for a moment she might still be dreaming. Barely over five feet tall, the housekeeper had a bright pink cap on over her steel gray curls, and her eyes were a startling blue. She shooed, yes shooed, Alexandra towards a seat with a bustle that any matron would have envied, talking faster than Alexandra had ever heard anyone talk.
"Ah, I was worried you would starve yourself if you had waited any longer up in your room, Your Grace," she said, setting tea, toast, and buns in front of her so swiftly that Alexandra couldn't even see where they were coming from. "I am not one for missing meals, Your Grace. Breakfast is there to be eaten and it sets you up for the day it does! Do you want an egg, Your Grace? I make a good egg if the cook is out doing other things, and she makes one even better'n I do for sure. There's some fine hens we have and their eggs come out ever so nice on a bit of bread in a morning."
"Thank you," Alexandra said, feeling a little dazed. "This will be quite fine. Please, sit and tell me about the household while I eat. I want to start well."
"Well started means even better following on," Mrs. Hopsted stoutly said, pulling up a chair and sitting on it, not seeming to notice that her feet dangled at least an inch above the ground. "I'm happy enough to take you through anything you want to know about, Your Grace, but don't rush into it. We have time, I like to tell my husband. The sky hasn't fallen and no debts are due."
"Thank you," Alexandra said again, feeling breathless as though she was the one who was talking so swiftly. "His Grace said that you were married to the groundskeeper?"
"Oh yes, Mr. Hopsted is ever so handy with the estate. He's very good at keeping an eye out for poachers and making sure all the beasts and birds are doing well, and he keeps good security and all. He used to have a position as a woodsman not far from here, and His Grace came by just shortly after he lost his job and hired us both over here. It has been so much better for our little girls to be free of worry, and I do enjoy being able to help run the place, that I do."
"Oh, I see," Alexandra said, frowning a little. A woodsman's wife would not have been her first choice for the position of housekeeper to a duke's estate, but everything was clean, the food was good, and the servants seemed to do their jobs with enthusiasm and care, so perhaps it had not been a misstep. "Can you take me through the finances later? I would like to see where we are spending our funds. Also, do you need me to set the menu for today or has it been done already?"
"I've kept it back for you to do, Your Grace," Mrs. Hopsted said, beaming brightly. "I know it's your job and even though His Grace suggested that he could have his favorite tonight, I told him no, Your Grace. I said, it's your wife's job from now on and if you want a bit of lamb for dinner, you can ask her nicely like any other man."
Alexandra laughed out loud, surprising herself with the sound. "You did not!"
"Oh, of course I did! A lady has to have the support of her household, and we're all very glad to have you here. If you've finished eating, I'll take you into the kitchens and introduce you around."
Alexandra sipped the last of her tea and got to her feet, feeling excited for the first time since that horrible night in the garden. Maybe she would be happy here after all.
The grounds were beautiful in the daylight. Still wet from last night’s rain, the vast lawns almost shimmered under the pale spring sun, while neatly trimmed lime trees lined the path. “There’s a rose garden behind the house,” Mrs. Hopsted said, “And then beside that there’s a lovely big fountain that’s very cooling in the summer. I’m told the old Duke was planning a water garden around it but, well, ran out of time, so to speak. I’m not too sure what that is to tell you the truth, but maybe it’s something you’d like to finish now you’re here?”
The idea of having the sort of funds that would let her do extensive landscaping seemingly on a whim made Alexandra’s head spin. It also made her a little angry, but she supposed she’d have to get used to that sort of thing now she was the Duchess.Shewas a person with those sorts of funds now, technically, even if her husband did have the final say.
“I’ll have to see,” she managed. “And talk to His Grace about it, of course.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hopsted echoed, with the tone of a woman who believed asking one’s husband was merely a formality in this sort of situation. “Now, behind them there’s some more gardens, all flowers and statues and pretty things like that, leading up to the woodland that my husband manages for His Grace.”
“And the kitchen gardens?” Alexandra asked, and Mrs. Hopsted beamed at her.
“They’re round the side of the house next to the orchard, tucked away where they won’t spoil the views. Would you like to inspect them, Your Grace?”
“Let us start there, yes,” Alexandra said, “And you can fill me in on how much of our food is grown here and how much is brought in from elsewhere. That way I can plan our menus around it.”
The housekeeper radiated approval, and Alexandra was glad she’d appraised the woman correctly. Mrs. Hopsted was a practical woman and appreciated the same from her employers,preferring a practical Duchess who involved herself in the everyday work of the estate to one who left it all to her staff.
Mrs. Hopsted led her round the side of the house to a pretty wooden gate she unlocked with a key dangling from her waist. Inside the garden, much bigger than the one at home - but no, this was home now, Alexandra reminded herself, thiswasher garden - neat rows of beans sheltered onions that were just beginning to sprout above the rich, dark earth. Carrot tops and kale and - a small, scruffy little dog, suddenly aware of their presence, began bounding toward them delightedly.
“Ah, now, Flick, don’t you go jumping on Her Grace,” Mrs. Hopsted said sternly, and Flick sat himself down neatly in front of them, red brown tail wagging delightedly. Alexandra smiled at him. “What a good boy.”
“Don’t be fooled, Your Grace,” said a man, standing up from behind one of the rows of plants. “Flick’s a wicked little scrap. Got His Grace right charmed so he has.” The fond smile on the man’s face suggested it wasn’t just her husband who was thoroughly charmed by the pup, as did the fond tsk from Mrs. Hopsted beside her.
“Your Grace, this is Mr. Drake, the gardener, and don’t you listen to him. I’ve seen him giving that dog half of his own lunch when he thought none of us were looking.”
“Ah, the poor soul was hungry,” Mr. Drake said with a grin, and touched his forelock to Alexandra, bowing a little. “Your Grace.”Then, turning back to where he’d come from, he called out, “Come on out, Jimmy, and greet Her Grace, will you?”
