Miranda gave a speaking glance to the cup of tea. “I’m certain you can find the time,” she said in a civil voice. “Now would be good for me. ”
“I can’t right now, I’ve got …”
“Now would be best,” she reiterated gently. Mrs. Humber glared at her, but made no more demurrals, and Miranda turned to her companion. “You must be Cook. When we come back I’ll be interested in looking at menus for the next few days. I may want to make a few changes. For instance, I have a particular dislike of beets, and small birds distress me. ”
“The master never questions my menus,” the woman said in a hostile voice.
“No, that’s your mistress’s business, isn’t it? And please change your apron before we return. That one has seen better days. If you need to order more, then see to it. ”
Author: Anne Stuart
Cook might have hated her even more than Mrs. Humber, Miranda thought cheerfully, but short of outright rebellion there was nothing she could do about it. She made one attempt. “I’ll talk to his lordship about this,” she said in a sullen voice.
“I have little doubt he’ll insist you change your apron, as well. If you wish to waste his time with domestic squabbles you may certainly attempt it. In my experience the earl is easily irritated, but if you think he will find this of interest be sure to go ahead, and let me know the results. ”
There was pure hatred in the woman’s beady eyes, reflected in Mrs. Humber’s eyes, as well. A good beginning, Miranda decided, unruffled.
“Come on, then,” the woman said. “I haven’t got all day. ”
Miranda had been prepared for the absolute worst, but in the end she was pleasantly surprised. The house was very old, built sometime in the latter half of the sixteenth century, but it appeared basically sound, the roof intact, though there was clearly a problem of rising damp in several areas. As far as she could see the most pressing problem was neglect. No one had cleaned or dusted the majority of the rooms in what appeared to be decades, and the smell of mouse and moth was an unappetizing undernote to the wood and wool of the old house and its hangings. It appeared that Mrs. Humber saw to it that only the rooms Lucien needed were kept clean. The rest were simply closed up and forgotten about.
She counted seventeen bedrooms, a number with modern powder closets. Hers was far from the largest, and at least one was cleaner, doubtless the bedroom used by whatever doxy Lucien had brought with him in the past. She wasn’t sure whether to be offended or relieved.
Mrs. Humber stopped at Lucien’s door. “It’s not my place to show you in there,” she said.
“Why? Is it full of skeletons and murdered brides?”
Mrs. Humber was not amused. “It’s the master’s suite. ”
“Is it as filthy as the rest of the house? I would think the earl would insist that at least this room be cleaned. ”
“We clean it. ”
“Then what are you afraid of? I gather his lordship has gone out for a ride, so we shan’t run into him. ”
“If you wish to go in then I won’t stop you, my lady,” Mrs. Humber said in a low voice. “But I only enter when the master requests it. ”
“I’m not so cow-hearted,” Miranda replied, and pushed open the door to Bluebeard’s chamber.
Indeed, the room was dark and dreary enough to have held the remains of a score of dead wives, if the old fairy tale were true. It only had a light layer of dust, but the walls had dark, worm-eaten paneling, the curtains the same heavy brown velvet. She looked around her, assiduously avoiding the bed for as long as she could. It was a massive thing, with dark hangings and heavy linen sheets. She could imagine him lying there. She could imagine him there, naked, with a woman, his pale eyes intent, his long, clever hands stroking, touching, arousing.
She shivered, turning away. He had a small dressing room with a cot for his valet, a powdering closet and even a small sitting room, all relatively clean, if dark and depressing. It was little wonder he had such a dark soul, living as he did in such gloomy places. The house in London wasn’t much cheerier, at least as far as she could see.
She was surprised to find Mrs. Humber still waiting for her when she emerged. “Well, my lady?” she said in a frosty tone.
“We’ll need, as a conservative guess, at least twelve women. Four to serve as chambermaids, four as parlor maids for the public rooms and the remaining four to do laundry and scullery service. Bridget says you have her doing both, which might work out very well with no one in the house, but with it being opened we’ll need a great deal more help. ”
“And what about Bridget?” Mrs. Humber demanded “She’s slovenly but I have need of her …”
“I’m training Bridget to be my personal maid. ”
Mrs. Humber snorted with laughter. “That girl is lazy and disrespectful. I was about to turn her off. ”
“Then you won’t be missing her. Twelve maids, Mrs. Humber. Plus I think at least four footmen for the heavy work. ”
“My Ferdy can handle that just fine. ”
Miranda controlled her instinctive shudder at the memory of the unprepossessing Ferdy. “That was when the house was deserted. ”