How to Handle a Scandal (15 page)

“I have business to conduct in town,” he said stiffly, no doubt irritated at the idea of answering to a wife he hadn’t wanted. She wondered what the “business” was. It might even be a visit with a mistress, for all she knew. They had, after all, been there several days, and she had no idea how he’d been spending his time. The thought of him consorting with a female companion while she’d been in bed made her feel both depressed and angry. And he still hadn’t told her anything.

“Should you be expected for dinner?” she pressed.

“No.”

He offered no explanation as to where he would be, and Eliza sucked her teeth. “Well,” she said, “I can’t function effectively as mistress without access to funds. I will certainly need to buy things for the manor. For that matter, our whirlwind wedding left me with no financial settlements whatsoever.”

He waved a careless hand. “I’ll have my lawyer make arrangements with your lawyer. You may spend what you need to and have the bills sent here,” he said in the voice of someone who’d clearly spent very little time or thought on the estate he’d acquired. And why should that surprise her, when he wasn’t going to be living there for years, apparently?

She crossed her arms. “If the rest of the hall is anything like my bedchamber, this whole place needs a great deal of redecorating.”

“It needs a little work, but it’s not that bad. I like it.”

“Not that bad?” She jabbed a finger toward the carpet they were standing on, where portions had been worn down so thoroughly that the floorboards were visible. “This carpet wouldn’t keep a flea cozy, there’s so little of it left. Never mind that the bare walls make the room feel like a dungeon.”

A hint of a smile hovered at the edge of his mouth before disappearing. “And what’s wrong with that? The place has character. It’s manly.”

A growl stirred in the back of her throat. “As you will apparently not be in England to enjoy Hellfire Hall for some years to come, its lack of comfort may be of little import to you. But
I
will need to stay here now and again when I visit the estate, to say nothing of any visitors, and it’s totally unsuitable.”

Apparently thoughts of her staying there or visitors arriving didn’t please him, because he glowered at her. “I had thought to rent it out. But I suppose the place would benefit from attention in some areas. Do as you see fit.”

* * *

The dining room was, Eliza decided on entering, very possibly worse than her bedroom. A long room with the same bare stone walls as her chamber, it had a cold, bare floor, an enormous battered table with deep gouges that suggested it had been used as a cutting board, and several large windows draped in a hideous nubby brown fabric that created gloom by the yard while doing nothing to keep out the October chill.

In short, it looked like a place where bearded, unkempt brigands might have paused to grab a fistful of meat on their way out the door to their next voyage of doom.

While Eliza was taking all this in, a door at the opposite end of the room opened and Mrs. Hatch came in. She wore a plain blue frock and white cap, and she was carrying a tray that held a pitcher of lemonade and a pile of sandwiches. Eliza’s stomach grumbled at the sight.

Though she’d met Mrs. Hatch the first night, and the woman had twice come herself to bring a tray to her room, Eliza had taken little notice of her. Now she saw that the housekeeper was only a few years older than she was and attractive, with dark blond hair and warm brown eyes. Eliza wondered briefly why she wasn’t married to some nice farmer and watching over her own household.

Mrs. Hatch greeted her and dropped a curtsey, which couldn’t have been easy to do while holding the laden tray. “I hope you are feeling better, ma’am.”

Eliza said that she was and thanked her. She thought she detected a hint of relief on Mrs. Hatch’s face and wondered if the woman had been worrying about what sort of person the new mistress was.

“Might I have one of those sandwiches?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Hatch held the tray out for Eliza to make a selection. “Cook made them for Sir Tommy, but he’s had to go out.”

Eliza nodded and nibbled the edge of a ham sandwich. “I believe you and all the staff were only recently hired.” Mrs. Hatch nodded. “Do you know anything of the previous tenants?”

“No one’s lived here for a good ten years, since the place belonged to Flaming Beard.”

“
Flaming Beard?
” Eliza helped herself to the other half of the sandwich. She hadn’t realized how ravenous she was.

Mrs. Hatch chuckled. “The pirate. Well, privateer, since he did have a letter of marque to attack enemy ships, but he had a penchant for drama, and he was a fierce adversary who made quite a lot of prize money from his captures. He had a reddish beard, and he liked to tuck lit paper twists into it when engaging with the enemy.”

“I like him already,” Eliza said. Her irritating inner voice threw up its hands in disgust with her.

“We were all over the moon when we heard Sir Tommy had bought the estate. I do hope you will both be very happy here…though I understand Sir Tommy may return to India before long.”

The poor woman looked concerned, as though Eliza and Tommy hadn’t figured out that it wasn’t the best thing for a newly married couple to immediately put an ocean between themselves. Of course, the servants depended on their positions at the manor, and if the estate were merely a forgotten possession, things at Hellfire Hall would soon turn to rack and ruin. Or, more accurately, remain in rack and ruin.

“Yes, but I shall remain in England.” Eliza smiled a little and realized it was the first time she’d done so in a very long time. “I look forward to many visits here.” If Tommy didn’t insist they rent it out, that was.

She asked Mrs. Hatch if she was married, since the custom for housekeepers to use “Mrs.” obscured whether the women were single or married.

“I am unmarried. I used to work for the vicar, but if you’ll forgive me, he’s tight with a penny and has no interest in a home being run properly.”

“Well,
I
like a home to be run properly,” Eliza said because it was true, actually. She was sick of the austere measures she’d adopted for Truehart Manor. She’d pinched and strived and withstood deprivations and discomforts for six years as a sort of penance, and what had it gotten her? The mission of Truehart Manor seemed doomed, and she was married to a man who thought she was a selfish ninny.

She realized then that she didn’t feel anymore like she owed Tommy a penance. And as to what she owed Will and Anna—who’d been deprived of his company for the last six years—she ought to care, but she could no longer make herself do so. Perhaps this was because she was angry with Tommy, but she didn’t really care why.

She decided that making this gloomy old place into something pleasant would be a worthy goal, and maybe it was just the sort of challenge she needed right now. Plus, if Hellfire Hall were spruced up, maybe
she’d
live here. Tommy could hardly need the money from renting the place since she’d brought him an enormous infusion of funds when they married.

Maybe she’d forget about trying to make something pure and good out of Truehart Manor again. Maybe she’d live at Hellfire Hall and just indulge herself constantly, with lavish baths and good meals and lively, outrageous dinner companions. The sea was nearby, and though she’d yet to see it, she’d caught a whiff of salt air now and again. She’d missed the sea, which had been one of the best parts of living on Malta. Meg could come stay. With no girls to worry about, they could do as they liked. They could…have fun. When had she last allowed herself to have fun?

“I’m very glad you’re here, Mrs. Hatch. As you’ve no doubt observed, there is a great deal of work to be done if the manor is to be habitable.”

Mrs. Hatch looked pleased. “In truth, I have a few ideas.”

Eliza and Mrs. Hatch spent several hours making an inventory of the manor. All of the rooms had bare, smudgy stone walls that seemed to drink up any light coming in from the windows, and the general feeling everywhere was of cold gloom. In addition to the bedchambers for the master and mistress, there were a dozen smaller bedchambers, each exactly the same: plain stone walls, a sturdy wooden bed with a puny mattress, and a simple oak table and chair.

The kindest thing that could be said about the furnishings was that they were serviceable, and though the drawing room had a nearly comical amount of furniture, none of it matched.

“Were all these things in here when you arrived?” Eliza asked as she ran a hand over a maroon brocade divan that clashed with a pair of bright-blue-and-white-striped chairs. There were, puzzlingly, two large tables in the room, along with a pianoforte that might have been acceptable if its surroundings weren’t so crowded.

Mrs. Hatch nodded. “Apparently Flaming Beard bought a number of furnishings when he first acquired the manor, but then lost interest in decorating.”

“He had terrible taste,” Eliza said as her eyes came to rest on a chair upholstered in a vomitus color.

“I found Flaming Beard’s account book when I was tidying one day,” Mrs. Hatch said. “He seemed to spend most of his money on great quantities of food and drink. It seems that many of the men who sailed with him lived here as well.” She stopped. “Please excuse me—”

Eliza held up a staying hand. “Feel free to read any of the books you find here. In truth, your interest makes you an invaluable resource. Was the manor always known as Hellfire Hall?”

Mrs. Hatch shook her head. “Before Flaming Beard bought it, it was called Heaven’s Repose, and it belonged to a very religious man. I think Flaming Beard took special pleasure in defiling it, as it were, with wild parties. From what I can tell, he had quite a sense of humor.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “And he was handsome. There’s a portrait of him in the attic.”

A handsome pirate sounded like just the sort of unsuitable man whose company Eliza currently felt in need of. “We’ll hang it somewhere prominent.”

As they moved through the house, Eliza approved Mrs. Hatch’s suggestions about wall hangings and made a note to venture into the town to see what might be available.

They inspected the closets, storerooms, and cellar, then visited the library, whose shelves had large gaps. “I suppose pirates aren’t much for reading,” Eliza said with a disappointed sigh.

They finished the tour in the kitchens, where two scullery maids were at work on a pile of dishes amid an even darker gloom than the rest of the manor.

“Let’s have this room whitewashed immediately,” Eliza said. “It’s so murky in here that I don’t see how anyone can tell when the dishes are clean. Never mind how it must depress the spirits.”

The scullery maids, their arms deep in pans of water, looked extremely grateful at this pronouncement.

Behind the manor, a gardener was at work harvesting apples, of which there were massive quantities.

“Do we have a cider press?” Eliza asked.

“I believe so,” Mrs. Hatch said.

Perhaps she could have a cider-pressing party in November, after Tommy left. When had she last thrown a party? Never. By the time she’d had her own household, she’d decided parties were nothing but an opportunity for people to eat and drink too much and misbehave.

She asked about the menus for that week.

“Sir Tommy said he didn’t care how we prepared the meats, and that there was no need for much in the way of fruits, or vegetables either, with the exception of potatoes. The only other preference he expressed was that he not be served fish. Otherwise, he insisted he didn’t care what was served.”

“Hmph,” Eliza muttered, visions of dry crusts and meat boiled past flavor dancing in her head. The fare at Truehart Manor had been plain, and they’d rarely had dessert, but at least the food had never been nasty. She was through with things being plain, though. “Never mind what he said; meals are of the utmost importance.”

Mrs. Hatch looked pleased. “I myself love to try all the latest recipes, but I know there are some who don’t particularly care what they eat.”

Eliza had spent years telling herself she was one of those people, but she wasn’t. Despite the ample funds she could have been spending on food, she’d told herself that self-discipline was good and indulgence was bad, and she’d felt like a better person every time she said no to what she really wanted. And where had that gotten her?

She was going to have wonderful meals. And wine. As much wine as she wanted.

“Whether or not my husband is one of those misguided people,” Eliza said, “I certainly am not.”

Mrs. Hatch looked briefly surprised that Eliza didn’t know much about her new husband’s tastes or wish to cater to them. But she just smiled encouragingly, as though she imagined Eliza would eventually catch on to understanding her man.

“Please see that there are plenty of fruits and vegetables. I am partial to desserts with cream. And fish should be on the menu,” Eliza said firmly.

“Er… Doesn’t it seem that Sir Tommy dislikes fish?”

Eliza enjoyed an inward grin. “He doesn’t know what’s good for him. Please order some salmon if there’s any to be gotten,” she said, wondering how he felt about eel.

It was nearly dinnertime when they finished. As promised, Tommy had not returned, but Eliza refused to spare a thought for where he might be.

After ordering a tray for her room, she stopped by the library. The pickings were slim, but she was such a compulsive reader that she’d often resorted to any printed matter she could find. The small stack of books on the sea she discovered were certainly an improvement on the labels of lotion bottles.

She also collected some extra candles, which she brought to her chamber with the books and lit against the room’s inhospitable dark, making it somewhat cheerier. She put the books away for a late-night treat (if that was the word for volumes with names like
The Sea Captain’s Lamen
t
) and started making lists of things to be bought for the manor. Thick carpets were first on the list, because the cold of the floors was so powerful it even penetrated her shoes.