Corey McFadden (14 page)

A card game with the boys. Now that might be fun. She knew cards backward and forward from long afternoons with Uncle James, and she had no doubt she could give these city boys a run for their money. She’d have to figure out how to slip away and not get found out. She did not relish facing Mrs. Formby if caught in some indiscretion.

She picked up her pace and hurried on to Lady Acton’s. There was something to be said for being a serving boy in a decent household in London. And if she was no longer Miss Maude Romney of Romney Manor, nor was she Mrs. John Romney, abused, penniless, and frightened. And there was a great deal to be said for that.

Chapter Eight

“Do you mean to tell me that Mrs. Formby is bedridden? The woman hasn’t been sick in my lifetime, not a day!” The Earl of Radford was clearly dumbstruck. “And how many of the other servants are down?”

The head butler, Farnsworth, the earl noted, was looking none too good himself, flushed and unsteady on his feet.

“My lord, we are most dreadfully embarrassed at the situation. I do not recall such a virulent influenza in all my days either. There are only a handful of us left who have not succumbed.” He spoke with a rasp.

“Yes, and you’d better take yourself off to bed as well, Farnsworth, before you fall over.”

“Certainly not, my lord. There is nothing at all wrong with me.”

“I assume you’ve had the doctor in?”

“Yes, my lord. Mr. Mathes says that some of the staff are very ill indeed. He insists on full bed rest for all of the ailing because of the danger to the heart from the high fevers. I’ve a parlormaid, one of the scullery maids, young Mike, and Frederick who remain unscathed at this time. Frederick is looking after the stables singlehanded since I’ve had to pull Mike in to help with the sick.”

“Mike? Is that the lad we ran over a few weeks ago? He hasn’t stolen the place out from under us yet?”

“Not at all, my lord. Mrs. Formby and I have been most pleased with the boy’s progress. He is a willing worker and shows great skill in the stables. Even Frederick allows as how he’s passable. A most acceptable addition to the household, my lord—thus far, that is.” Mr. Farnsworth was ever one to hedge his bets.

“Well, I’m pleased to hear that. Perhaps the best way to get good servants these days is to run them down in the road and bring them home unconscious. I shall remember that. Now, what shall we do about all this illness? I am inclined to send to the country for more staff to nurse our invalids.”

“The doctor and I discussed that, my lord. He is of the firm opinion that it would be wiser to contain our illness to this household. It is fortunate you have been in the country, else you might be down with it, too.”

“Oh, I’m sure my time is coming, Farnsworth. This thing is all over London, is it not? But I never get very ill so I’m not going to worry about it. I’ll not be able to avoid it, anyway. The devil of it is, I’ve let Brooks go north to visit his ailing mother. We understood her time to be short, and he seemed anxious to see her. I suppose I shall have to valet myself. Probably look like the very devil for a few weeks, eh, Farnsworth?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lord. I shall valet you myself. I was valet to your grandfather in his later years, before you were born. I believe we can keep you looking presentable, my lord, even if we are a bit shorthanded in the laundry.”

“We’ll manage, I daresay, although I’m not too keen on cooking. I suppose Cook is down as well?”

“I’m afraid so, my lord. She is quite ill. The kitchen staff is prostrate except for the one scullery lass and she’s none too competent with the actual cooking.”

“I believe it will simplify matters if I dine at my club for the next week or so. Then you can concentrate on getting hot soup to our fallen soldiers and dispense with elaborate food preparation. I certainly shall plan no entertaining in the near future. I would return to the country, but I’ve several important engagements in town over the next few weeks, and I’m not at all sure I wouldn’t be carrying the contagion back to them now. Let’s just try to carry on, Farnsworth. It should not be more than a fortnight or so, I imagine, for things to get back to normal.”

“You are most understanding, my lord. We shall try to keep the inconvenience to your lordship at a minimum.”

Farnsworth no longer looked flushed. He was as pale as a ghost and Radford noticed that he was holding on to the back of a chair as he stood, a most uncharacteristic gesture for his rigid butler.

“Perhaps you might go and have a few minutes rest, man. I need nothing at the moment. I’m going to rest myself, before I dress to go out this evening.”

“Thank you, my lord, you are most kind, but I feel I must make the rounds of the sick rooms. If you will excuse me, my lord.”

Farnsworth turned with great dignity, took three steps forward, and dropped in a dead faint.

The earl stared down at him a moment, sighed, and pulled the rope that signaled the kitchen, wondering who, if anyone, would respond. He did not feel up to carrying the man up three flights of stairs, but it had to be done. It was certainly going to be an interesting week. He pulled a cushion from one of the chairs and placed it under Farnsworth’s head. The butler groaned, but did not appear to be awake. His head was burning hot to the touch.

A moment later a face peered around the large paneled door. Radford caught the movement out of the corner of his eye as he bent over the butler.

“Come in, whoever you are. I need some help.” Radford glanced up briefly and saw a boy staring in shock at Farnsworth. “Ah, Mike, I believe,” the earl began. “Do you remember our last meeting? As I recall you were in no better shape then than poor Farnsworth is now. I trust you took no permanent injury from our unfortunate encounter?”

“N—no, my lord. My headache went right away, thank you, my lord,” the boy stammered.  He looked downright terrified to be in the exalted presence of the earl, but Radford was used to that—with the newer, younger servants anyway. The old ones weren’t frightened of the Almighty Himself.

“Do you think you can help me carry Farnsworth upstairs? I am afraid the poor man is far more ill than he would admit.”

“Yes, my lord,” the boy said. His voice had not yet changed. It was as high and clear as a choir boy’s. “I’ve been afraid this would happen. He’s been working awfully hard and getting almost no rest what with the nursing and the cooking and all.”

“Yes, well, I daresay those few of you still on your feet have done more than your share of the work around here in the last few days. Do you think you could hold his legs while I hoist the rest of him? We’ve a long way to go to get up to his quarters, so this will not be easy.”

“I can manage, my lord.” And he squared his thin shoulders and bent down. Not a shirker, indeed.

 * * * *

Well, she had known this day would come, hoping the floor would open up beneath her and swallow her whole when it did. This meeting was inevitable. Nothing to do but bluff it out and perhaps fate would allow her to continue her masquerade. She stared at the carpet and willed her hands not to shake.

Maude gently lifted the butler’s legs, one on either hip, facing forward, away from the earl. Well, at least she need not look him in the face until they got upstairs with their burden.

“I certainly hope my good Farnsworth does not awaken before we reach his quarters. He would simply expire on the spot should he find himself in such an undignified position.”

Maude giggled in spite of herself. They reached the foot of the center staircase and Maude looked at it with some misgiving. Even carrying only the man’s legs was heavy.

“You go first, Mike. That way I’ll have most of his weight on me.”

“Yes, my lord. It’s all right so far.”

It was a very long climb. Maude could feel each step painfully gained beneath her, and as they rounded the post for the servants’ floor, she felt as if her arms would drop off.

“Steady on, boy. Just a few more steps.”

They were both puffing from exertion, and they paused before the door to Farnsworth’s suite. Maude let the butler’s foot down as she jiggled the handle. Thank heaven he was not one to keep his door locked. The door opened onto a spacious, tastefully appointed room, not lavish by the earl’s standards, no doubt, but certainly a pleasant place to spend what free time a butler came by.

“Let’s put him on the bed, then you can help me undress him.”

Oh Lord! Farnsworth’s dignity be hanged! What of Maude’s own? They stopped next to the canopied bed, and Maude held his legs steady while Radford gently deposited his body on the coverlet. The man stirred slightly and moaned.

“I wish Mrs. Formby were well, Mike. I’m a bit worried. He’s burning up with fever. Can you feel it?”

He drew back and Maude put her hand against the man’s cheek.

“Aye, my lord, he’s quite ill. But we’ve been nursing other staff through it for the last two days. The important thing is to cool him off a bit with a wet cloth. I’ll put some water in the basin and sponge him down.”

Maude turned toward the washstand while Radford loosened Farnsworth’s cravat and shirt front. She was worried because the butler felt so very hot and he was, after all, rather elderly. He had been kind to her and in the past two days they had been each other’s mainstay, running up and down stairs, fetching more water, trying to get a bit of soup down a few hoarse throats, sleeping in the smallest snatches so as not to leave the other to do all the work. He had made no status distinction between them, an unusual thing between head butler and lowest serving boy. The scullery maid and parlormaid manned the kitchen, and if the broth was not up to Cook’s standards, at least it was nourishing and hot. The whole household had the air of siege, but Nigel Farnsworth and Maude Romney had found kindred spirits in each other, even if there were a slight misunderstanding on his part as to Maude’s true identity.

“That’s right, my lord, expose his chest. Excuse me, let me sit here for a moment.”

Concern for Mr. Farnsworth temporarily erased Maude’s fear of recognition by the earl. She sat on the side of the bed, placing the wash bowl of water on the night stand and began bathing Mr. Farnsworth’s unconscious form. The heat from his body was frightening, and Maude noticed nothing else as she sponged his chest, his forehead, then his arms and wrists, again and again.

Quietly, the ninth Earl of Radford unfastened his butler’s breeches and slid them down and off, leaving the man in his smallclothes. He covered the inert form with a sheet, then gently removed the man’s shirt and vest.

“Should he drink something, do you think?” the earl asked.

“Yes, it would help if he could take some water. Not too much, just a few sips.” Maude went so far as to forget the “my lord,” and the omission went unnoticed as his lordship  slipped from the room.

* * * *

Radford bumbled around in the darkened, cold kitchen, but there seemed to be no fresh water yet today.  He took the bucket and went outside to the pump, glad that as a boy he had been fascinated by the thing—enough to learn how it worked, anyway. The water came gushing out, cool and welcome. Filling Farnsworth’s old pitcher and leaving the bucket still full on the kitchen sideboard, he looked around for signs of dinner. There were none—nothing but a pot of something on the boil. It was all well and good for him to take off to his club, but he should see to it that the staff did not starve.

He made his way out into the hallway, noting for the first time that the flowers that always stood fresh on the elaborate receiving table were dying. Nowhere was there a candle lit and all was silence—not a footstep, not a door closing, not a murmur of conversation—an odd thing for the usual bustling household.

Carrying the pitcher of water and two clean glasses, he pushed open the door of Farnsworth’s bedroom. The boy Mike had not abandoned his post, still sponging down the unconscious man’s chest. Radford poured a small amount of the cold water into one of the glasses and held it to Farnsworth’s burning lips. “Here, man, try and take a sip if you can, just a small sip, there’s a fellow.”

The boy sat back and watched as the earl gently coaxed a few sips down the man’s parched throat.

“I had no idea things were so bad. I should have returned long before this,” Radford spoke softly, almost to himself.

“It came upon us very suddenly, my lord, just two days ago, a little fever here, a little cough there, then suddenly they were dropping to the left and right. There was no time to notify anyone. Mr. Farnsworth said that much of the city is so afflicted. Besides,” the boy added, “had you come sooner, you would be down as well.”

The boy paused, then let out a gasp. “My lord, please leave at once! Go to your room and shut the door! I shall tend to Mr. Farnsworth, and check on the others. Please, my lord, I do not need you here and you must not risk further exposure.”

He pushed insistently on Radford’s arm, clearly unaware of the gross impropriety of a serving boy touching, uninvited, a peer of the realm.

Radford was amused. He was not used to being ordered out of rooms in his own house by urchins picked out of a ditch. “I think the damage is done, boy. I am certainly exposed now. How is it you have escaped this scourge?”

“We—we had the influenza in my former household a month or so ago, my lord. I was somewhat ill, but not nearly so sick as this. I can only think that earlier illness protects me from this one.”

“Well, that is certainly fortunate for my household, is it not? We are much obliged for your fortitude and continued good health.” Radford smiled at the boy, who glanced back down at the butler, his young faced suffused in red.

“Mr. Farnsworth feels cooler to the touch, my lord, and, see, he is breathing easier.”

Indeed, the man appeared to be resting more naturally, his breathing slowed to a normal rate. “That’s a blessing. Farnsworth ruled this household before I was born. I am not at all prepared to do without him. I shall not take your advice and retire to my chambers, however, Mike. I am anxious about the rest of the staff. Do you think you could make the rounds while I sit with Farnsworth? I think those who are awake might be disconcerted to see me hovering over their beds.”