Listen to the Moon (8 page)

“A pleasure to meet you.” Mrs. Grimes held out her hand, looking entertained when Mr. Toogood bowed over it.

“I’ve just asked your daughter to marry me,” he said, “and she has made me very happy by agreeing. I hope you will give us your blessing.” Sukey couldn’t decide if she wished he’d leave so she could talk to her mother, or wished he’d take her home with him so she wouldn’t have to.

Mrs. Grimes’s jaw dropped. “Sukey?”

“It’s true.” Regretfully, Sukey faced the fact that he couldn’t take her home. “John, darling, you said you’d come and fetch me at nine o’clock?”

He hesitated, but he said, “Of course, Miss Grimes,” kissed her lightly on the cheek, bowed to her mother, and vanished, leaving only a lingering odor of good manners.

“I can stay here until the wedding, can’t I, Mum? It’s only two and a half weeks.”

Her mother walked back into her room, leaving the door open for Sukey to follow. “Come and get under the covers where it’s warm. Good Lord, Sukey, the
wedding
? You never mentioned that man to me before in your life.”

“I didn’t think anything would come of it.”

Her mouth turned up. “Ah, I see. And how long have you not thought anything would come of it?”

Sukey crawled under the blankets and huddled closer to her mother. “A fortnight,” she admitted. Lied, rather. It wouldn’t be a fortnight for a few days yet.

“An eternity, then.” Mrs. Grimes held the candle up to inspect her face. “What do you even know of him?”

“He used to be Mr. Dymond’s man. Mrs. Dymond told me her husband thinks ever so highly of him.” Mostly she’d told Sukey he was a stickler, and that he’d got the stain out of her dress when her brother-in-law was sick on it. But a Dymond’s word in Lively St. Lemeston was good as gold to a lot of folk.

Even Mrs. Grimes didn’t turn up her nose at it, though she sighed gustily. “You’ll do as you like, of course.”

“So can I stay?”

“You can stay as long as you like if you help me with my washing. I’ll take on extra work and you can have a bit of the money for your bride things. But where will you live when you’re married?”

“Mr. Toogood thinks we can get work at the vicarage. He spoke with Reverend Summers this week, and we’ll go and see him together in the morning.” Sukey shrank from admitting she’d be an upper housemaid if all went to plan. If it didn’t come off, her mother would think she’d been building castles in the air, and anyway, she might point out that Sukey had never had such a fine job before, and could she really do it?

“That’s a nice coat.” Her mother examined the inside of the cuff for wear. “Large for you, though. Who did you buy it from?”

“It’s Mr. Toogood’s. Mrs. Humphrey wouldn’t let me take mine.”

“Ah yes, she gave you the sack. Lucky you had a husband all lined up, eh?”

Sukey felt tears pricking her eyes. “Are you very angry?”

Her mother looked at her in surprise and then laughed. “It’s for your husband to take a switch to you now, girl. Here, take off your cap and I’ll braid your hair for bed.”

He wouldn’t,
Sukey thought.
He wouldn’t hurt me.
But she wondered. She’d only just met him, after all, and she’d never seen him angry. He was large enough to easily hurt her if he’d a mind to.

“Your father should be here to see you married.” Mrs. Grimes pulled out her hairpins.

Sukey didn’t know how to answer. They almost never spoke of her father. “Oh, pooh. It isn’t as if we’re fine folk who’ll take up the vicar’s time with flipper-de-flapper and waste money on cake for all our friends. I don’t suppose you’re planning to come yourself, even.”

Her mother tugged her comb through a snarl, none too gently. But Sukey never had the patience to be gentle either. She had plenty of hair, no one would notice if she lost a few strands. “What of that? To think a daughter of mine would go to her husband in just her shift! Would you like my sea-chest? You always loved that chest.”

“I couldn’t.” The old chest, on whose inside lid some sailor had painted a white-sailed ship on the waves, was the only note of whimsy her mother allowed in the room.

“Don’t be silly, of course you could. Or you might take the mirror. It’s only cracked at the very bottom. I’ve no need for such a large one, I only really use it to double the light of the candle. I won’t have Mr. Toogood looking down on us, thinking he’s done you some great favor by marrying you. Not when he’ll have the keeping of me when I’m old.”

“Mum, when you married Dad, did you think it might be a mistake?”

Sukey was afraid she’d let slip too much, but her mother didn’t seem to think it a strange question. Maybe it was one she’d asked herself before. Chuckling, she combed the left side of Sukey’s head into three parts, twisting each firmly between her fingers. It felt nice.

“Not for a moment. I thought the sun shone out of your father’s arse.” Her fingers slowed. “It’s such a weight off my mind to see you married. Life isn’t easy for a woman alone.” She finished off the braids quickly. “Here, I have a present for you. Miss Makepeace gave it me last week.”

She went to the trunk and took out a worn green ribbon. With a snip of her scissors she cut it in half, and tied up Sukey’s braids with it. “I was never half as pretty as you, I’m sure,” she said proudly.

Tears pricked Sukey’s eyes. But was she making a dreadful mistake?
No.
Mum never doubted, and you do. That means you’re deciding with your brain and not your cunny.
She curled up under the covers in Mr. Toogood’s coat and realized that it smelled like him.

It was hard to believe you weren’t thinking with your cunny when you were tugging a man’s lapel over your nose and mouth, breathing in deep and remembering him shuddering on the floor beneath you.

* * *

“Ah, little Sukey Grimes,” Mr. Summers said. “Coming up in the world, I see.”

John tried to unclench his jaw. He was wound tight as a spool of thread with nerves, for fear Sukey would say something ill-judged and lose them both the position.

“Yes, sir.” She bobbed a curtsey. “I hope to be worthy of it, sir, if you’ll give me the chance.”

He blinked, surprised. But why? She’d never have managed years with Mrs. Humphrey if she couldn’t curb her tongue.

“And how did you and Mr. Toogood meet?”

She’d been stealing a hairpin when they met. John hoped she wouldn’t mention that.

“Well, sir, you know I worked for Mrs. Sparks that was, Mrs. Dymond now, and he worked for Mr. Dymond.”

“It’s a pity they mightn’t have employed you in their own establishment,” the vicar said with only a hint of sarcasm.

Sukey dimpled. “It
would
have been awfully convenient at that, sir.”

Mr. Summers smiled at her. It had been a strange oversight on John’s part to imagine that Sukey could not charm others besides himself. “Indeed. Tell me, what is your impression of your future husband’s character?”

John kept his face carefully blank as Sukey threw him a laughing glance. “Look at him, he’s afraid I’ll say he’s a stick-in-the-mud.”

“I think any man of forty marrying a bright young thing like yourself would be afraid of that.”

John wished, not for the first time, that employers felt obligated to be as tactful and carefully distant as servants did.

“Oh, he’s spry enough,” Sukey said. John could
see
her debating whether to wink. He cleared his throat, and she smiled at him instead. “I think he’s the kindest man I’ve ever met, sir,” she said firmly. “And the most generous.” John’s face heated.

“I don’t imagine your experience of men has been large,” Mr. Summers pointed out. “You have worked solely in female households, have you not? Too pretty for housewives to let you near their husbands, eh?”

Sukey shifted uncomfortably, and John realized it was probably the truth. “I’d not say that, sir. I
have
worked only for women, but it been’t—isn’t as easy to avoid men in this world as you may imagine.”

Mr. Summers nodded. “So you think Mr. Toogood morally fit to supervise four women and train a young footman up in the way he should go?”

“I suppose I haven’t known him so long as all that, but I do, yes. I think him morally fit for anything, sir.”

The way she said it was only three-quarters a compliment. John smothered a laugh.

“I see. Have you letters of reference?”

For the first time, she faltered. “No, sir. I…” She looked at John.

“I think it is best to be direct,” John said. “Miss Grimes lost her position at Mrs. Humphrey’s yesterday. But I have no doubt Mrs. Pengilly and Mrs. Dymond would give her an excellent character if applied to.”

“Mrs. Humphrey, yes,” the vicar said. “And why did you lose your position?”

John nodded at her encouragingly.

“I was cooking the pudding for supper, sir, and ate two raisins. It was wrong of me, I know.”

Mr. Summers gave that startling, delighted cackle of his. “Two raisins, I see. This
is
a terrible sin. But I am bound to remark that Mrs. Humphrey, while a very worthy woman, brings irresistibly to mind the passage, ‘and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing’. Well, my dear, I do not keep the raisins under lock and key in
my
kitchen, so I hope you will not snack me out of house and home.”

The worst was past, but to John’s surprise, Sukey stiffened. “I’m grateful to you, sir, for saying it. But you know her family ate shorn-bugs for dinner when she was a girl.”

“Very true.” To John’s relief, Mr. Summers did not look offended, thought he didn’t look much chastened either. “There but for the grace of God go I. Now, Mr. Toogood, what do you think of your bride-to-be’s character?”

“I think you have just witnessed it, sir. She is the kindest and most generous young woman I ever met.”

Sukey flushed and clutched her hands together.

“She has not served in a gentleman’s home before and has much to learn,” John continued, “but I think if you will be patient, and have charity, the bread you cast upon the waters will be returned to you. Her care with Mrs. Pengilly is quite touching.”

The vicar stood. “Well, the house has been rather quiet these last few years. Perhaps you will do something about that, eh, Miss Grimes?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “You must tell me if you think I’m chattering, sir.”

“I shall not hesitate. Well, if Mrs. Dymond and Mrs. Pengilly do not contradict you, the positions are yours. Naturally I cannot have a courting pair living together under my roof, but there is no reason you, Miss Grimes, cannot start at once. If I read the banns Sunday and you are married—let me see—Monday the fourteenth of December, Mr. Toogood may take up his position then. Here, I will introduce you to the rest of the staff.”

A girl appeared in the doorway in answer to the bell, out of breath. She was the round-faced blonde John remembered.

“Where is Thea? Never mind. Fetch her and everyone else to meet the new members of the staff.” When the girl had ducked out again, Mr. Summers said, “You’ll meet the gardener later. He’s really an undergardener at Wheatcroft and comes once a week.”

The blonde girl was soon back with Larry and the younger brunette. Mrs. Khaleel came in a moment later, a young gentleman on her heels. He was slender and very tall, dark haired, with bright blue eyes and an air of amused curiosity about him.

“I was just prevailing on your cook to warm up some mulligatawny for my dinner, sir,” he said in a light, cultivated drawl, “and thought I’d meet the new servants.”

“Of course, Mr. Bearparke. May I present John Toogood and his intended, Susan Grimes, the new butler and upper housemaid. I am sure you recognize my curate, my dear,” he said to Sukey. “As his lodgings have recently fallen through and this house is far too big for one man, he will be taking up residence here very shortly.”

John’s eyes flew to the women in surprise. Mrs. Khaleel’s mouth was a tight line. The vicar, no doubt, saw no contradiction in insisting on a married butler while allowing his bachelor curate the run of the place. John would have to keep an eye on the fellow. He cursed inwardly, hoping he wouldn’t find himself at odds with his master’s trusted associate so very early in his tenure at the vicarage.

“Once Twelfth Day is behind us,” the curate confirmed with an infectious grin. “Christmastide is too busy for a man of the cloth to trouble himself with personal errands.”

“Mr. Toogood, Miss Grimes,” Mr. Summers went on, “this is Mrs. Khaleel, my cook; Margaret, my under-housemaid; Dorothea, my laundry maid; and Lawrence, my footman.” Margaret, the blonde, gave John a hard look and stepped closer to Dorothea.

“It is very nice to meet all of you,” John said. “Might I inquire your ages, Margaret, Dorothea?”

“I’m sixteen and she’s thirteen, sir,” Margaret answered for both of them. “You can call us Molly and Thea.” Thea regarded him a little sleepily, smothering a yawn. He hoped very, very intently that the previous butler had not really hurt them.

“I’m eighteen,” Larry offered helpfully.

“We look forward to working with you.” John met each of their eyes in turn—except Thea, who was looking at her toes.

“Now you may show your betrothed to the door, Miss Grimes. I warn you, Mr. Toogood, my servants are not allowed to entertain visitors in my home, nor to gallivant about the countryside when they ought to be sleeping or working. You will have to content yourselves with meeting Saturday afternoons, when all of you take your half-holiday while I prepare for the Lord’s Day in peace. Unless you do not subscribe to the country superstition that a man must not hear his own banns called, in which case you may see her Sunday mornings as well.”

Sukey shook her head at him, eyes imploring, and John could almost hear her say,
It’ll be church bells for your funeral next if you do.
“I am afraid I do subscribe to it, sir. But I look forward to returning to church services after the wedding.”

Sukey sighed in relief, slight shoulders easing, and John wished he were not a servant and were not obliged to stand still and straight as an automaton instead of kissing her.