Page 3 of An Amiable Foe
“You…you are Brindale’s new owner? How did this come about? We received no word of it.”
He could see that she was troubled by the news; she seemed smaller somehow. “My uncle did not find it convenient to have another estate to oversee and one which was far from his other holdings. Since I will be inheriting anyway, he wished for me to take over the estate at once.”To test me, Perry thought.And I must pass.
“I see.” Miss Edgewood blinked, her eyes staring straight through him. “Then as owner, you have no need of me. You will know how to direct your servants to accommodate all of your wishes. If you will excuse me.” She turned to leave.
“Miss Edgewood,” Perry called out from behind. If she left, he might be stuck here waiting idly until the sun set. “I will trouble you to tug the bell pull that I might meet with the housekeeper.”
She stopped short, and without turning to look at him gave two sharp tugs on the pull, then swept from the room in a manner worthy of a member of London’s ton.
Perry resumed his seat, waiting for the housekeeper to arrive, and went through the conversation that had gone less smoothly than he might have wished as he remembered Miss Edgewood’s mouth pulling down in a frown. There was the surprise of his inheritance, of course. But then, he supposed his disparaging remarks about the drawing room had not helped. He had not intended to insult, although she had possibly taken it that way. Perhaps her mother had designed the drawing room with particular care, unaware of the latest London fashions, and Miss Edgewood saw a barb in his words.
From what he had been able to assess from his glimpses of the castle’s exterior and the hall leading to the drawing room, Brindale would have to be turned inside out if he had any hopes of making the place comfortable. The bones of the castle might be solid, but the interior was positively Gothic and would not charm any but the most lugubrious. He would need to see what could be done about bringing more light inside. Or perhaps there was a room better situated on a different side of the castle that could serve as the drawing room, and he could assign this one to perdition.
Indeed, there was a great deal of work to be done, and his uncle had not increased his quarterly allowance to help him to do it. Oh, it was most definitely a test.
The door opened, and a servant that he now doubted from her lack of formal attire was the housekeeper curtsied as soon as she entered. She looked around the room, her gaze searching and her brows raised as though in surprise to find him sitting there alone. Perhaps she had expected to see Miss Edgewood. He remained seated and put on his warmest smile. He would need an ally in Brindale’s head servant.
“Mrs.…?”
“I’m Mrs. Malford, Brindale’s cook, sir. How might I assist ye?” Her appearance was crisp and neat, at least. Diligence in appearance meant diligence in household matters. With her hair neatly tucked into a cap and a face that held only the beginning signs of age, she stood, hands clasped and awaiting his orders.
Peregrine glanced at the table in front of him, suddenly struck by how hungry he was. “I would be glad of some tea to start with. I will also require a room to be made up for me, and”—he sent his most self-effacing smile—“if you can possibly have a hot supper on short notice, no matter how humble, I will partake of it in the dining room. Tomorrow, I suppose I must meet with the other servants and the steward and look over the castle. I assume Brindale has no housekeeper or butler?”
He paused, struck by doubt. Whom should he appeal to if there was no housekeeper? “Perhaps you might give me a tour of the interior?” he added. With the way Miss Edgewood had run off, he would not propose that she be the one to give it to him.
“As ye wish, sir,” Mrs. Malford replied after a slight hesitation, and he was left to wonder if she’d felt Miss Edgewood should perform the duty of giving Brindale’s tour. But Miss Edgewood was not mistress of the castle, nor was she its employee.
The door opened again, and another neat—but much younger—servant entered, cutting short his musings. Mrs. Malford presented her. “This be Sarah, the upper maid, and she’ll help ye on matters pertaining to Brindale.”
“Sir.” Sarah curtsied and listened while he explained his need to have a room readied for him. She had an air of competence and nodded when he finished speaking. “The master bedroom, and the best to be found in Brindale. ’Tis the room that belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Edgewood when they were still alive.”
“That will do very well for me.” Perry rose to his feet, prepared to end the discussion.
“Except the master bedroom is near to Miss Edgewood’s room,” Mrs. Malford added. She had remained at Sarah’s side, and Perry was brought up short by the firm expression on Mrs. Malford’s face. He had no serious designs on the young lady but even if he had, he was not such a simpleton as to miss the protective mien the cook had adopted. Miss Edgewood appeared to have the loyalty of her servants, which spoke highly of her.
“Well then, take me to the best room that is not in the same wing as Miss Edgewood’s.” Fatigue overset Perry, and he allowed his gaze to drift aimlessly over to the tiny glass panes that distorted the scenery beyond it. They were in need of cleaning.
Neither Mrs. Malford nor Sarah moved to get the tea, and it was the maid who spoke. “’Tis the eastern wing near to Miss Edgewood’s, and it’s not got the same comfort, I’m afraid, sir. There’m some chinks in the wall as needs be looked to, and ’tis said the bed hasn’t been slept in for a century. But it ’ull be a sight better nor the other wings that have leaks in the roof.”
He snapped his gaze back to the maid. Panic at the monumental task ahead of him set in, lending a sharp tone to his voice. “It is a pity the Edgewoods did not invest more in the upkeep of the castle. Maintaining the roof leak-free is the most fundamental of necessities.” He shook his head as a desultory laugh escaped him. “And a centuries-old bed? Did the castle never receive guests?”
His question was rhetorical, but Mrs. Malford answered it. “When Miss Edgewood’s fader was alive, he did all he could to improve Brindale, but there ’us not time enow before he died. His broder Mr. Joseph Edgewood was busy with the East India Company overseas to worrit ’bout his English estate. I fear the bed ye ’ull sleep in tonight ‘ull not be what yer used to.”
“Bring the bed from the Edgewoods’ room to mine and that will do,” Perry said, ready for the conversation to be over and for the tea to be brought. He would think about the remaining problems once he had something in his stomach.
Sarah nodded her acquiescence but did not turn to get the tea, merely exchanging a glance with the cook. Despite her meek comportment, she was showing herself to have strong opinions. This might work in his favor if she was diligent, and he could rely on her to see that things were properly done. But a maid who did not easily give way in most matters would be more of a headache than a help.
“I’m afeared ’tis not so easy a task, sir. The bed in the old master bedroom is a mizmaze—made up of thick beams of oak that’m nailed to the floor. Charlie can have the bed unmounted, but not against nightfall. Mrs. Malford ’ull have a hot meal for you, and I’ll see to the fire in yer room and that a set of Brindale’s finest sheets is on your bed, such as it is.”
Perry let out a quiet exhale. There was little point in complaining about what could not be changed. “That will suit me very well.”
When the servants left the room, its silence fell upon Peregrine in a way that felt almost accusatory. With the drooping curtains and low gilded frames, the room seemed to frown at him, as though he were trying to take away someone else’s home, although the thought was ludicrous. Everyone knew that rooms could not frown, and inheritances were not personal. They were the natural order of things.
And this castle did belong to him now. Even if Miss Edgewood, who had shown herself a chameleon, appearing one minute in servant’s clothing and the next in the outmoded raiment of a young lady, had looked every inch Brindale’s natural owner. He would not think of that just now. Although the question of what steps she had taken to acquire a new lodging would need to be explored, Perry was not here to displace her. He was here to prove to Lord Steere that he was worthy to inherit the barony.
His gloomy musings improved after the tea tray was brought with such sustenance as warm bread and slabs of ham, along with the lightest Bath cakes he had ever eaten. After three cups of fragrant tea mixed with cream and sugar, Perry felt ready to continue his quest to tame his new surroundings. He decided to escape the oppressive nature of the castle and go check on his stallion before night fell. This was a Percheron from France with the unoriginal, though apt, name of Beau that he had bought from an ex-soldier, and he was partial to him.
He opened the front door and nearly ran into a gentleman who had been on the point of knocking. The man’s features were unremarkable, his stature short, and his countenance friendly—a country gentleman from the look of it. His amicable expression fell into one of surprise, then distrust, when he saw Perry.
