Secrets in Mourning (6 page)

Molly flushed. “There is no one to clean it. Mrs. Waversly is gone and George and Henry are in the village with Lucy and Gwen.” Victoria couldn’t hide the astonishment when she learned the other two housemaids and both footmen were gone.

“How can this be?”

“Mrs. Waversly didn’t see the harm in giving them a few hours off this afternoon.” Molly was sound a bit perturbed. “She thought it would be all right with just me here. And it would have been.”

 
Hearing the censure in the maid’s voice, Victoria’s lips thinned. “You should probably head to your room and rest, your wrist has already begun to swell.”

“But what will you do, Your Grace? As you said, the water can’t just sit there.”

“Yes, I know. Don’t worry about it, Molly. I’ll take care of it.”

“All right.” The maid stood but looked doubtful before she left, leaving Victoria to stare at the puddles.

Victoria knew what she had to do, but she took no pleasure in it. She wanted to rant and rail at her circumstances, but that wouldn’t change anything. She was here now, stuck for a year if she wanted financial freedom. She would do whatever it took to secure that future.

Looking up and down the empty hallway one last time, she sighed, heading toward the supply cabinet. Gathering up folded toweling, she made her way back to the puddles.

Not bothering to fool herself, she sighed, accepting that she had finally been reduced to a maid. She would normally break something to express her dissatisfaction, but she wanted to laugh. If her acquaintances in London could only see her now. Lady Victoria, an incomparable, sopping up the floor.

Throwing down the towels, she watched as the material absorbed the liquid. There was still some water left over after the first sponge up, lingering around the edges of the walls.

Looking down at her dress, she winced. It would be ruined. Well, what was one dress compared to a fortune? She needed to do this.

With all the dignity she had, she knelt to the floor, reaching out to wipe up the remaining water. As the towel filled up, she didn’t notice how warm the water still was, but she did notice that her eyes were beginning to sting from the lye.

Finished mopping up, Victoria balled up the towels and stacked them in the pail. She would need to take them out to dry. But first, she would need to see to the rugs.

Eyeing them, she thought there might be a possibility of saving them. She might as well try before throwing them out. She couldn’t imagine the Earl would be too happy about losing them.

Fortunately they were smaller pieces instead of the standard runner. Rolling up the two affected carpets, she bent over to pick one up and was shocked by its weight. Full of water, it was heavier than she had expected.

The only way to carry it would be over her shoulder. She had seen servants do it before, and she was certainly capable of it herself.

Taking a deep breath, she heaved out a puff of air as she picked up the wet rug, throwing it over her shoulder.

A quick squeal escaped her lips as warm water saturated her gown, trickling down her back and into the front of her corset.

That was not something she had expected. Gritting her teeth, she cursed the old Duke for dying and making her endure this. Then she cursed the Earl for not being properly staffed.

They would hire more servants soon. She didn’t care what she had to do to get them. Just because she was capable of laboring like a servant, didn’t mean she wanted to.

Blowing her hair out of the way as she exited the house, she approached the laundry lines, throwing the rug up and over. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it would dry.

Trudging back into the house, she felt her dress tighten as the wet material rubbed against her body. She couldn’t wait to get it off.

After two more trips to the laundry line, the towels and rugs lightly blowing in the breeze, Victoria raced to her room, quickly stripping off her dress and undergarments.

Not able to move, she stood rooted in front of the mirror, staring at the red angry skin that had been irritated by the lye in the water. Her shoulders, part of her chest, down her back, her knees, and hands were covered with bright red welts. Inspecting them closely, Victoria puzzled over it. She had never handled such harsh chemicals in her life, but was this what happened to all of the maids when they washed?

She thought back in her life and couldn’t remember a time she ever bothered to look. Lacing her fingers together, she winced. Chafed and raw, the skin protested.

Had her servants always hurt like this? A feeling began to creep over her, and she tried to push it away without success. It felt like… guilt.

She had never thought about a servant’s life. Never thought of how they might suffer. Their jobs seemed so menial: wash, clean, serve. How hard could it really be?

Looking at her hands, she believed it might be worse than she had thought. Perhaps she should be a little more grateful for their work. It wouldn’t hurt to give her servants praise now and again. And in the meantime, she could watch more closely. What else had she missed?

Pulling out fresh undergarments, she winced as the buttery soft material scraped across her fingers.

After a few short weeks without a lady’s maid, it still amazed her that she had adjusted so quickly to dressing herself. Before she had arrived at Lynfield Hall, she had never dressed herself in her life. Oh, how different it was here. She could manage fastening most frocks on her own. The exceptions being the few that contained trailing buttons down the back, but she had managed to avoid those.

Glancing at the ruined heap of black crepe on the floor, she couldn’t say she was sorry to see the hideous garment go, but she would miss the ease with which she could dress herself in it.

Thinking back on her physical labor, a small surge of satisfaction washed over her. She had no desire to do it again, but the fact that she had, that she could, made her accomplishment sweeter.

She had been independent, acting on her own. And she relished it. It was only a taste of what her future would be like.

Finished dressing herself, she barely bothered to check her appearance in the mirror. With no servants around, she wondered what else she might be required to do. The thought brought a slight curve to her lips as she left her room.

***

Connor grinned a little wider as he shoveled manure out of the wagon. He didn’t know why, but the thought of Lady Victoria, or rather, Her Grace, as was proper, meeting him while he performed such a task amused him. On such short notice, this had been the most revolting task he could imagine doing when she joined him.

He couldn’t wait to see her face.

He wasn’t blind to the fact that she had been making his home run more smoothly than he could remember, but he wasn’t about to praise her for it. She would be waiting for that. If she thought he would fawn over her as other men undoubtedly did, she was in for a nasty shock.

His shoveling manure was just another way of showing her that.

“You asked for me?”

Her silky voice cut through his thoughts, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He didn’t think she would arrive so soon.

Turning slowly, he leaned on the shovel, casually studying her before he spoke. Her dress was more prim than he would have expected of her, but it was by no means demure. While still the color of coal, she filled out the garment in a way that seemed indecent. The fabric was like a second skin, stretching and hugging her curves, and would undoubtedly make most men kneel down in gratitude. Forcing his gaze away, his eyes trailed upward, noticing that her hair was more mussed than usual.

She hadn’t even checked her appearance before seeing him if the small smudge of dirt under her chin was any indication. She looked earthy, more approachable than he was used to seeing her.

She certainly didn’t look the belle of the Ton now.

And why did that please him? She wasn’t someone he was interested in no matter her physical appeal. He would do well to remember that.

The small scrunch of her nose drew his attention and he had to fight back a grin. She may be pretending that the smell didn’t bother her, but she didn’t fool him for a second.

“Yes. However, I wasn’t expecting you to see me so quickly.”

“Obviously,” she said dryly, glancing at the steaming pile of muck.

He shrugged at her discomfort, fighting back the urge to gloat. It wasn’t a feeling he was proud of. He was never one to rejoice in another’s misfortune, but with someone of Lady Victoria’s caliber, he made an exception.

“Yes, well, the work must get done.”

“Right. Everyone must pull their own weight.” An uncertain look crossed her face that had him hesitating. “What is it you wish to speak with me about?”

“Have you hired new servants yet?”

“No. We’ve been unable to locate anyone suitable for the positions. This far away from civilization, I’m not surprised.”

 
“How unfortunate. I should think that even a menial servant could be found here, even if this is Scotland.”

Her eyes narrowed, but he didn’t feel any triumph in the barb. She was spoiled, felt entitled to a life of privilege and ease. Just like his father.

He tried to push the thought away the moment that it came, but it was too late. The memory of his father’s selfish pursuits spoiled any devious pleasure he extracted out of the meeting with Victoria.

“In any case, I’m sure you will be able to find suitable replacements soon. There should be a hiring fair within a few weeks where you will be able to find what you’re looking for. That is, if you haven’t already filled the positions by then.”

“All right.” Picking up her skirts, she turned to leave, obviously assuming that the conversation had ended.

“I have another task for you.”

Her shoulders stiffened, but she turned to face him.

Picking up his shovel, he turned his attention back to his work, speaking as he unloaded the fertilizer. “It has been awhile since baskets were brought to the poor and sick in the village. I haven’t had the time, and there has been no one else to do it. I want you to see to it.”

He could hear her mouth opening and closing, but he didn’t bother to raise his eyes.

“You want me to enter the homes of the sick? What if I catch something?”

He shrugged. “I doubt that there is anything worse than a runny nose or upset stomach. You should be safe enough.”

“And if I refuse?”

Leveling her with a look, it was enough to have her swallow and nod. No words were needed. If she didn’t do as he asked, she would be forced out, her inheritance lost to her. “Fine. I’ll do it because I want to stay. Not for any other reason.”

“That’s as much as I expected.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Her voice rose.

“You know exactly what it means. I didn’t, even for one moment, believe that you would be willing to deliver those items for the benefit of anyone but yourself.” He finally stopped shoveling long enough to face her as he finished his impassioned words.

“I see,” she said quietly. “And that’s what you think of me? That I am only motivated by selfish desires, and have not the ability to help another?”

“Have I seen differently?”

Biting her lip, she visibly struggled to control her emotions before taking a deep breath, leveling her gaze at him. The absence of emotion knocked the wind out of him. There was no resignation, no anger, no disappointment, no indignation. Just nothing.