Abby Grahame - Wentworth Hall

“Yes, I should come,” Michael said. “The path is a bit difficult to follow up there and you might wander into Cotswall Manor by mistake.”

“I’m sure the Duke of Cotswall wouldn’t be too put out to see Maggie riding on his land,” Lila said with a shrewd grin.

After what Michael had heard in the kitchen he understood what she was getting at. If Lila was trying to show Teddy that Maggie had other suitors, her plan was bound to backfire. It would only serve to make Teddy jealous. Michael was sure of that. He himself felt the jealousy rising within him.

“The Duke of Cotswall is old enough to be my grandfather,” Maggie scoffed.

“Surely he’s not much older than Father,” Lila countered.

Maggie laughed. “Is that any better?”

“No better,” Teddy put in emphatically.

“Isn’t he terribly wealthy, though?” Jessica asked.

“Nora hears that he’s positively loaded,” Lila answered, using the exact slang Nora had.

“Lila!” Maggie scolded. “It doesn’t matter to me how rich he is. I would never consider marrying the duke.”

“Of course not!” Teddy agreed. “There are other men, younger men with just as much wealth who are sure to fall in love with you; a man you could have a real life with, not some antiquated codger.”

Michael schooled his features to reveal no emotion, but inwardly glowered at Teddy. He was so sure of himself, so confident that he was the one who would capture Maggie’s heart, so certain that his wealth and shallow charm would make him the winner in the end.

Maggie sat forward in her saddle, signaling that she was eager to get going. “All this talk of marriage is giving me a headache,” she announced. “I want to ride and forget about old dukes and wealthy young men. Let’s go.”

With a flick of her reins, and a sharp click to her horse, Maggie was off. Not wanting to be left behind, the others took off after her.

Michael shook his head woefully, watching them thunder across the lawn toward the wooded trail. Everyone was talking about how France had changed Maggie, but deep down she was the same, headstrong and determined to have her own way. She hadn’t wanted Michael to join them and she’d found a way to leave before he could saddle up.

For a moment, Michael considered going after them, certain he could easily overtake them, but decided against it. No good could come of him being in the presence of that strutting Teddy Fitzhugh. Michael would eventually do or say something to make his feelings known, and he couldn’t risk losing his job.

A knot constructed of anger, jealousy, and frustration twisted in his gut. By a mere accident of birth—his own low station in life—he was denied the person he loved most in the world. The woman he would always love and long for. The woman he believed loved him still, no matter how much she pretended not to.

“You have very delicate hands,” Nora observed, speaking to Therese that night as they cleared their own dishes from the servants’ table. As the last to finish eating, what was left of the cleanup had fallen to them. She’d noticed Therese’s hands for the first time as the young woman lifted a platter that had been heaped with mutton chops and potatoes.

Therese spread her hands wide and observed them as if assessing their delicacy for the first time ever. “Oui, perhaps they are. My hands are strong, though.”

Nora gazed at her own solid fingers and ragged nails and decided she should take better care of them. They certainly marked her as someone who worked hard for a living. “People judge you by your hands,” she remarked, piling dishes in the sink.

“I will give you some of my hand cream. I need to have soft hands to work with the baby.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Nora remarked in a tone that was a bit guarded. She hadn’t yet made up her mind about Therese. “Is it French hand cream?”

“It is,” Therese said, scraping the remaining food from a plate into the garbage. “My mother always used it.”

“Were you in service as a child?” Nora probed. “I’ve been in service since I was a child because my mother was employed here. When she died, the Darlingtons kept me on. I’d have been an orphan if they hadn’t been kind to me in that way.”

“It must have been lonely for you,” Therese sympathized.

Nora shrugged. “I missed my mother, of course, but the rest of the staff were a kind of family. Maggie and Lila are like family to me.”

Therese looked away and Nora couldn’t read the expression that washed over her face. “What is it?” Nora asked.

“How can you have family who live such a completely different life from you? Didn’t you resent that you were their servant? It’s as though you were Cinderella and they were your wicked stepsisters.”

Nora considered this for a moment before speaking. Did she resent Lila and Maggie? She didn’t think it was fair, being born into privilege or poverty. But she didn’t blame the girls for that. “It’s just how it’s always been,” Nora explained.

“And that’s all right with you?” Therese challenged.

“I have my plans for bettering myself,” Nora insisted. “But it’s not the Darlingtons’ fault that my mother was a maid and my father was also a servant who died young. What were they supposed to do, share their wealth with us? That was not about to happen. And besides, if they hadn’t given my parents jobs we’d have been poorer still.”

Therese fell silent, pensive. Nora thought the line of conversation was odd, but perhaps this was also down to Therese’s “Frenchness.” The French were a philosophical bunch, after all.

When the kitchen was cleared and the table cleaned, Nora took out some of Lady Darlington’s dresses that she’d laid aside to mend. Taking her sewing kit from a cabinet, she sat down at the table to attend to it before retiring for the night.

“I can help you with that,” Therese offered. “Give me that one with the ripped lace collar. I’m good with lace. My mother taught me to tat.”

Nora shifted the lace-collared dress over to Therese. “Tatting is lace making?”

Therese nodded. “My mother was also a maid but she saved enough to open a flower shop eventually.”

“That’s very inspiring,” Nora said sincerely. She loved stories of servants who had gotten out of the service and done well. It was what she wanted for herself.

“She was a maid for Lord Darlington’s sister in France.”

“The aunt they stayed with in Paris,” Nora recalled.

“Yes. After my mother died and the shop closed I went back there to see if I could find some work to support myself. That’s when I met Lady Maggie and her mother and they hired me to take care of the baby.”

“That worked out well, then,” Nora remarked as she began to stitch a dropped hem on a green taffeta gown.

“I’m not so sure,” Therese commented.

“What do you mean? Don’t you like it here?”

Therese shirked her slim shoulders in a gesture of ambivalence. “I mean no offense, but I find the English to be cold.”

The right side of Nora’s lip kicked up in a bemused grin. “You have to get to know us.”

“Most of the staff has been kind but I find the Darlingtons to be snobbish, especially Lord Darlington, and his daughter Lady Maggie is also.”

“Maggie didn’t used to be,” Nora said. “Something changed her while she was away. She used to be a wild spitfire, always full of fun. I remember once when her family hosted a fox hunt. She felt so sorry for the fox that she led Michael, me, and Lila out to catch the fox before it had gone very far. We hid it and ourselves in the old abandoned caretaker’s cottage. We were turning red from trying not to laugh when all the hounds were outside barking and no one could figure out why.” Nora put down her work and laughed at the childhood memory. “Even though we helped, it was all Maggie’s idea.”

Therese smiled, amused by the story. “Good for you. I think fox hunting is barbaric.”

Nora shook her head, still laughing. “What fun we had! Maggie was always the one coming up with the mischief and we were all for it.”

Therese lifted her chin and listened attentively to some sound that had caught her attention. One of the many call bells that lined the wall near the doorway was jingling. “It’s coming from the nursery,” Therese realized, rising from her chair. “Little James must have awakened. I have to go.”

“Good luck.”

Therese crossed to the icebox and extracted one of the frozen bagels Rose had prepared for the teething baby. “I’ll return if he falls back to sleep quickly,” she promised.

“Thanks,” Nora said as Therese left.

Resuming her sewing, Nora assessed her new opinion of Therese. She’d changed since she first arrived, had become more friendly, more like one of the staff. Maybe she was simply starting to relax. Or had something happened to sour her on the Darlingtons? “Hmm,” Nora hummed pensively. If Therese was having trouble with her position in the Darlington household, Nora would just have to get to the bottom of it.

The Sussex Courier
MISFORTUNE MANOR!

The most coveted houseguests have arrived at Faded Glory Manor, and not a moment too soon!