The Convenient Arrangement (7 page)

A door opened, and the housekeeper rushed in. “Is everything as good as can be expected?”

Lorenzo drew down the newspaper far enough so he could ask, “Are you having problems with the staff, Mrs. Ditwiller?”

“Nothing I cannot put to rights in no time at all, my lord.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” He returned to his reading again.

Valeria gave Mrs. Ditwiller a sympathetic smile. “I would be glad to speak with the cook and the butler with you later, Mrs. Ditwiller.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Relief lightened her face as she went back through the door, and Valeria knew that the staff of Moorsea Manor had not taken well to having a new housekeeper put in charge of them.

She glanced at Lorenzo, or, more truthfully, at the back pages of the newspaper. She could not believe he was so oblivious to what took place below stairs. Then she recalled that he never had been in a position to oversee a household. She would have to speak to him of these matters posthaste as well.

David asked, “Where are we going first?”

“You have seen more of the house than I have,” she replied. “What do you suggest?”

“There's an old section of wall that I saw from my room. If we climbed up it and—”

Lorenzo said without lowering the paper, “Let us confine our explorations today to the interior of the house.”

“But this looks so interesting!”

“Mayhap.”

“And I saw what looked like a door. The wall might have rooms in it.” David forgot his manners enough to lean both elbows on the table. “Who knows what we might find!”

“Exactly.”

“So we'll go there first?”

Lorenzo still did not look at David. “We shall go there last. I don't fancy the idea of having something falling down on my head today.”

“But—”

“It will have to wait.”

Valeria put her hand on David's arm as he sank back against his chair, a pout on his lips and bright tears of disappointment in his eyes. He shook off her hand and, crossing his arms in front of him, scowled across the table.

She wanted to scold both of them. If Lorenzo chose to hide behind his paper and David brooded all day, it would not be a good beginning for their time here. They needed to learn, if nothing more, to tolerate one another.

“Lorenzo? David?”

“Yes?” asked Lorenzo.

David just grunted.

Before she could respond to either of them, the clatter of wooden heels came toward the breakfast room. She put down her fork. All of her appetite had fled, and she doubted if it would return now as Nina Urquhart appeared in the doorway.

Valeria had no idea why anyone would consider the turquoise gown the old woman wore as anything but a horrible fashion mistake. Rolls of lace dropped at every possible angle over the skirt that was nearly wide enough for being presented at court. Beads had been sewn on in some pattern that she could not discern. As Miss Urquhart entered the breakfast-parlor, two fell off and rolled into a corner to mingle with the dust. She leaned on her gold-topped cane as she walked with careful steps in shoes whose heels must be more than four inches high.

“Good morning!” chirped Miss Urquhart as she sat right next to Lorenzo and reached for the bowl in the middle of the table. “How studious you are this morning, my boy! In every way, you remind me of your dear, departed uncle Francis. It is too bad he could not be here to see this.” She chuckled. “Of course, if he were still here, you would have no reason to be at Moorsea Manor, would you?”

“I suppose not,” he said from behind his newspaper which he raised even higher.

Valeria wished she could say something to let Lorenzo know how she sympathized with him for having to deal with his uncle's eccentric ex-mistress. She said nothing, for she did not want to irritate the old woman more.

“Your uncle used to read the paper at breakfast and lunch,” Miss Urquhart continued. She reached up with her cane and pressed the pages down toward the table. As Lorenzo stared at her, shocked, she said, “I warned him that it was an intolerable habit, and I shall say the same to you.”

“Miss Urquhart, I—”

“Bother! Do not ply me with your excuses. I have heard them all from Francis.” She plucked the paper away.

“Say now!”

Valeria could not keep from staring. Lorenzo had not been reading the newspaper but a book. A novel, she noted. One of Jane Austen's. Her eyes narrowed as she read the title.
Mansfield Park
. She had not read that one yet.

“Lorenzo,” she began.

She did not have a chance to ask him if she might read it once he was finished, because Miss Urquhart scolded, “Shame on you! 'Tis bad enough that you are reading at the table, but you need not lay claim to the newspaper and not read it when others of us might wish to enjoy it during breakfast.” She snatched up the newspaper and snapped it open so sharply that it tore halfway down in the middle. Ignoring that, she held up the paper and began reading aloud an article about road construction in Exmoor.

Valeria put a hand on David's arm before he could protest. She did not blame the boy for being distressed. Either this old woman had been on the wrong side of the hedge when heaven handed out brains or else she had taken a knock in her cradle. Whichever it was, her mind must be quite addled to be acting this way.

“Forgive me, Miss Urquhart,” Lorenzo said, startling Valeria. “You are correct. I was being rude. My sole excuse was that I could not wait to finish this chapter.”

Miss Urquhart lowered the paper only far enough so she could peer over it. “That doesn't explain why you had the newspaper as well.”

“I thought it would appear less ill-mannered if I did not prop a book between me and young David.”

“A waste of a perfectly good newspaper, because it was clear from the unhappy expression on his face when I came in that young David was just as glad not to have to look at you.” Miss Urquhart laughed when Valeria gasped. “Never be afraid of the truth, young lady. It will serve you well. That is a lesson your family should learn.”

“Pardon me?” she asked, again astonished. “What do you mean?”

Miss Urquhart raised the newspaper again instead of answering.

Valeria looked at Lorenzo, who shrugged, then at David who was staring at all of them, obviously growing bored by the adult conversation because he was shifting in his seat.

“Can we go?” he asked. “The day's nearly half over.”

“It is early still,” she said with a smile.

It was no use. He would not be placated. Slumping in his seat, he frowned. His face contorted, and she realized he was trying to hide a yawn. She wondered how much he had managed to sleep last night.

No one spoke again during breakfast. Valeria began to comprehend why David was so anxious to begin exploring the house. He had been sitting here in this quiet since before she arrived. Her few attempts to initiate a conversation were drowned out by the silence.

Finally, having tolerated all the hush she could, she pushed back her chair and motioned to David to do the same. When Lorenzo looked up from his book, he wore a startled expression.

“Done with breakfast already?” he asked.

Miss Urquhart tapped one corner of his plate with the newspaper. “Look there, my boy. You have but a bite or two left yourself.”

“So I do.”

Valeria saw David roll his eyes, and she almost laughed. The situation, however comical, was exasperating as well. If this was the pattern every morning meal would take, she might ask Mrs. Ditwiller if she could have her breakfast in her room. That would work for breakfast, but for luncheon and the evening meal … She did not want to think about it. She would go deaf in this silence.

She stepped aside to let David scurry on his way out of the room, because he was rocking from one foot to the other, growing more impatient with every passing second to explore the house. He frowned when Miss Urquhart put out her hand and halted him.

“You should know that a gentleman waits for the ladies to rise before he takes his leave, young man,” she said. “Or ask if one would like your assistance with her chair.” She tweaked his cheek and smiled. “Especially when that lady is beyond the first blush of her youth.”

“Pardon me?” he asked.

Valeria bent to whisper in his ear.

“Oh,” he said, smiling, “you mean old.”

“David!” Valeria gasped, then frowned when she heard a muffled laugh. Lorenzo Wolfe's manners were no better than her nephew's if he found this amusing. Her eyes widened as she realized Lorenzo was as aghast as she at David's unthinking words. Then who was laughing?

Miss Urquhart tapped David on the arm and freed her gusty laugh. “Ah, the honesty of the young is always refreshing to those of us who once held it dear.” When David started to ask another question, she waved him to silence. “Pull out my chair, young man, and help your old auntie Nina to her feet.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, clearly nonplused by her mercurial moods.

“Yes, yes what?” she prompted.

“Yes, yes, Auntie Nina.”

She came to her feet as he helped her draw back her chair. “You are a good lad. I shall have to remember that when next I remake out my will.”

“Are you planning to do that soon?” asked Lorenzo as he put his book on the table and started to set himself on his feet.

“Finish your breakfast, my boy,” she ordered. “I just poured you another cup of coffee. And, for your information, I redo my will whenever necessary. Seven times so far this year.”

This time, Valeria found herself trying to keep from laughing. The old woman could not be serious, but she was, for Miss Urquhart prattled on about how the solicitor from Bath had refused to come out to Moorsea Manor the last time so she had the coachman and the cook witness the latest changes.

“Left them a pretty penny for helping,” Miss Urquhart said. “They'll appreciate it.” Resting her hand on David's shoulder, she added, “Let us get going. Half the day is over.”

David grinned and led the way toward the door. As he passed Lorenzo, he put out his hand and yelped as if he had tripped. He struck the coffee cup.

“Look out!” Valeria cried, trying to reach the cup.

It tipped, splashing coffee all over Lorenzo. He looked from his speckled waistcoat and breeches to David, who was fighting not to smile and losing.

“Sorry, Lord Moorsea,” he said, his lips twitching.

“How could you be so clumsy?” Lorenzo stared at the spots dripping down his waistcoat. “The cup was halfway across the table.”

Miss Urquhart tossed a napkin at Lorenzo. “Dab yourself off, my boy, and change so we may be on our way.”

“Our way?”

Valeria was glad that Lorenzo had asked that first, because he was the one whom Miss Urquhart's frown was aimed at.

“Of course I am going with you, my boy. Who among you knows the manor as well as I?” She patted Valeria's hand. “I don't want you to jump to the wrong conclusions again as you did in Francis's book-room last night. This poor boy cannot endure too many more facers such as you gave him then.”

“You hit him, Aunt Valeria?” David asked as he grinned.

Valeria said, “David, you need to understand—”

Miss Urquhart slipped her arm through David's. “I'll tell you all about it while we wait for these two in the front foyer. Ten minutes, my boy. That should give you a chance to change, and you, Valeria, the opportunity to select another shawl.” She ran her fingers along the fringe on Valeria's shawl. “This is boring. I liked the one you were wearing last night much better.”

Lorenzo pushed back his chair and stood as Miss Urquhart and David went out of the room, chattering like two squirrels with a single nut. When Valeria turned to him, she said, “I'm sorry for this, Lorenzo.”

“Other than the fact that you brought the boy here, this is hardly your fault.”

“Where would you have had me leave him?”

He held up his hands and surprised her with a tired smile. “You are misunderstanding me. I don't blame you for this. I suspect, if David were not here, Miss Urquhart would find different ways to make our lives interesting.”

“What are you going to do with her?”

“With her?” His eyes grew as wide with boyish bafflement as David's had.

“It isn't a good practice to promise the household something in a will, when the will is worthless.”

“I'm sure the staff here knows that.”

“David doesn't.”

“Then you should explain that to him.” He threw the brown-spotted napkin on the table and stared down at his speckled waistcoat. “Mayhap he will explain to you why he felt compelled to begin the day this way.”

“I need not ask him, for I know exactly how he feels about being compelled to start the day this way.” She tapped the cover of the book. “If children are ignored, they find ways to make sure you must pay attention to them.”

“I was not ignoring the boy. I was reading a book with my breakfast as is my habit.”

“And it's David's habit, if he believes he is being ignored or if he is suffused with
ennui
, to do something that will bring him attention.”

“An inexcusable habit.”

“More inexcusable than being a poor host to your guests?”

“Is that how you see yourself? As my guests whom I must entertain endlessly?”

She frowned. “Of course not! However, we have not been here long enough to be comfortable so that we can find ways to entertain ourselves.”

“If you will recall, Valeria, I have been here a shorter time than you.” He picked up his book, being careful to hold it away from his damp waistcoat. “I shall change and meet you in the foyer as Miss Urquhart ordered. I trust you can manage, during our wanderings around the manor house, to find something to entertain you and the boy, that does not require me to fear again for my clothes.”