The Hourglass (13 page)

*

“What do ladies do,” he asked, “while the menfolk are left behind to indulge?” He already knew the men behaved like beasts in the field. It was ever thus.

“They gossip, or sit with their sewing, play at the pianoforte or sing—”

“Ah, music. Do you have a good voice?”

Genie laughed. “Barely passable. Do you?”

Ardeth had no idea. When had he occasion to sing? He’d heard the best—nothing could surpass the Heavenly Choir—but thought he might enjoy Genie’s singing as he followed her to the music room. He already enjoyed watching her rounded bottom sway and the sound of the silk gown swishing as she moved.

She sat and played a few simple pieces at the pianoforte before beginning a country ballad she could sing.

Ardeth sat back and closed his eyes in contentment. How domestic, he thought, how simple, how lovely. How much she sounded like the crow.

*

Genie spent the next few days trying to hire new senior staff. If there was a guidebook on how to be a proper lady, she was positive, selecting perfect servants must rate a chapter for itself. She was the countess; it was her job to see that the household ran smoothly. Without that guidebook, however, she had no idea how to go on.

She had never hired anybody in her life. What few servants her parents had at the manor were chosen by her mother. During her marriage, Elgin’s batman served as man-of-all-work, including the cooking. They had not been able to afford a maid, so Genie had taken care of her own needs and the cleaning. When she taught the Portuguese grandee’s children, she was little better than a servant herself. Now she was expected—no, she expected it of herself—to produce reliable, honest, experienced staff. Her husband was busy inspecting sites for orphanages and veterans’ hospitals, forming alliances for reforms in Parliament, and studying where the most improvement could be made in most people’s lives. He seemed to enjoy walking the streets days and nights, seeing how all classes lived. Despite his offer, Genie would not bother him with nonsense that a real lady could accomplish blindfolded.

By the second day she wondered if those duchesses and viscountesses actually did don blinders and pick a name out of a hat. The task seemed impossible.

Campbell found a highly recommended placement agency, which sent scores of applicants for the two positions. Word of mouth brought scads more. She dutifully interviewed each, realizing that she should have hired a secretary first, to read the references and thin the lines of job seekers. A secretary could help with the hourglasses, too. The dratted things kept multiplying like rabbits, all needing to be cataloged for Ardeth’s inspection, then returned, paid for, or shelved.

But she had advertised for a butler and a housekeeper, so Genie felt obliged to continue the interviews. None of the men or women seemed right. Most seemed pitiable, not hirable. She felt sorry for the ancient butlers, hard of hearing, bent over with rheumatics, who had been replaced by younger men. She worried about young men who would not be hired without experience, yet could not gain the experience without positions. Worse were the women who were displaced by the mistress’s poor, unpaid relation, or dismissed when the master acted poorly.

Genie knew what it felt like to be out of work and out of money, so she listened. She gave a coin to each unemployed applicant, except the ones who felt themselves superior to her.

There were many of those, too.

Genie did not read the gossip columns in the newspapers. Why should she, when she knew so few people in town? Why should she when her own name might be there? Nor did she listen to rumors trickling from the servants’ grapevine through Marie’s backstairs cronies. Many of the job seekers must have.

One woman’s nostrils flared when she stepped over the threshold of the hourglass room, where Genie was conducting interviews so she could arrange the timepieces between appointments. One would-be housekeeper would be affronted to work for a woman of chancy repute. Another wished to speak only with the master. As for the butlers, one started to inform her of his rules concerning proper conduct, as if she were one of the undermaids, and another told her he would not have come to such a house at all had there been other opportunities. A few smelled of spirits; a few smelled of unwashed bodies. A few could smell smoke and demanded the chimneys be cleaned before they slept in such a fire hazard. One seemed to smell money, and shifted his eyes from gold hourglass to valuable painting to priceless statue.

A few of the more qualified butlers acted as if they were interviewing her. Would the earl be coming back to London during the next parliamentary session? more than one asked. Genie knew they were concerned that if the house sat empty, they would receive no vails from visitors, no bribes from tradesmen. Most wanted to know if they were expected to travel to the—gasp—country with the family. If not, would they be paid their full salary?

Genie devised a winnowing process for possible, passable candidates. She asked the prospective butlers to introduce imaginary callers: a duke, a merchant, a female who would not give her name. Some could not understood the notion of playacting. Others felt such efforts were beneath them. Two announced that anyone without a title was not worth presenting; that would be a footman’s job.

Genie felt more qualified to interview prospective housekeepers. After all, she’d had to maintain her own quarters for herself for many years now. Even in her mother’s home, she’d had chores. So she knew when a house was clean. She tested the women by asking the formula for beeswax polish, and the best way to remove stains from upholstery. One refused to answer, or to work for a mistress who was going to “interfere.” Another found the house too cluttered for her taste, with too many fragile pieces for maidservants to break, which could be laid at the housekeeper’s door. Genie still felt guilty over the vase she herself had broken, so could understand the trepidations.

A tall, thin woman thought the hourglass collection was ridiculous and possibly blasphemous, although she did not explain how. A gray-haired matron declared them too hard to keep clean. Add a talking bird, an infant to come, and an earl out to reform the world, and the list of applicants grew shorter.

Marie was no help. She thought Genie ought to hire one of the young handsome chaps as butler—the one who had dimples and broad shoulders. Heavens, Genie’d be having to start a home for unwed housemaids with that one around. Campbell thought one of the women was a good candidate, until Marie caught sight of the pretty female and declared her bachelor fare.

“You do not want to give Monsieur ideas,
chérie
.”

Well, she did, but not with a housekeeper. Genie still
needed to hire someone, two someones. She was too busy to organize carpet beating or washday herself, and too ill in the mornings. The footman who’d been promoted to underbutler was not dignified enough for such an eminent gentleman’s residence, not when he could barely read the calling cards. Botheration.

The last applicant on the second day was a woman of about forty, forty long, cold winters. She appreciated that the house was kept warm, and admired the artwork and interesting collections. An impoverished lord’s spinster daughter, she was seeking a position rather than end her days in the workhouse. Miss Hadley was well-mannered, well-spoken, and well used to gossip after living with a drunk for a father and a madwoman for a mother, both now gone on to a better place, she hoped.

Genie decided she was perfect—for a secretary and companion. Miss Hadley knew how to go on in society and could advise Genie. She had a neat hand, a good head for numbers, and tolerance for the unconventional. As she told her new mistress, growing up with a blind drunk and a bedlamite taught humility and patience. What Genie appreciated most was that Miss Hadley was honest. Her background might be public knowledge, but not to her prospective employer. And how could Genie hold the woman’s birth against her, when her own child’s parentage was going to be in question?

So Miss Hadley took over the hunt for the senior servants. Genie took a nap.

She did not know how long she slept before hearing a tapping on her door, the one that led to the earl’s chambers. She sat up and quickly tidied her hair, feeling a surge of hope at this unexpected visit. Unfortunately, Ardeth seemed more embarrassed than amorous.

“My lord?”

“I’m sorry. I did not know you were asleep.” With so much to see, so much to do, he could not imagine wasting an unnecessary hour in bed.

“That’s quite all right. I need to get on with my day anyway. Did you require something?”

A lot, with her warm and rosy from sleep, her gown a bit disordered. He never thought he’d need a cold bath, but perhaps soon, if his lady wife made so tempting a picture. He turned his back, studying the painting on the wall instead. Flowers and fruit did not tempt him at all, thank goodness. When he was back in command of his errant urges, he said, “There is a strange woman singing among the hourglasses.”

“Oh yes, that is Miss Hadley. She is marvelous and needs a position. I worried that I should consult you first—”

“Nonsense, if you like her, that is your prerogative. I like her voice. And her manner is neither toadying nor cringing.”

“Nor haughty. I think she likes me, which is comforting.”

Poor puss, Ardeth thought, so very alone and unsure that an upper servant’s approval mattered. He had to change that. “Then we have our new housekeeper.”

“Oh, Miss Hadley is not to be housekeeper. She is my secretary and companion. You thought I should have one, recall?” Genie went on to explain Miss Hadley’s history and qualifications.

“I am doubly delighted. Not only have you found such a wise head to help and advise you, but now I can confess that I hired a couple to be butler and housekeeper.”

Genie felt like a failure. Hiring the staff was one of the
few wifely duties Lord Ardeth let her perform, and she had failed. “Oh. How nice.”

“On your approval, of course. You see, I went to visit Mrs. Smythe-Gardiner.”

“The one whose husband skewered—”

“Yes, that one.”

Genie wanted to ask what business the earl had with the Cyprian who seduced Elgin, but she knew a good wife held her tongue even if her heart was broken, along with the vows her husband had made.

Ardeth turned to look at the few bottles on his wife’s dressing table. She needed no cosmetics, he thought, but he did like the floral scent she wore. He did not like how she did not trust him. “I’d heard she found a new protector and was leaving London. I wished to make sure that she had funds to get far away.”

A large boulder seemed to lift off Genie’s chest.

“I found her already gone with her house left empty, her small staff left with no pay. The Randolphs are a pleasant couple who kept the place tidy despite the circumstances. Randolph was properly butlerish, you know, all polite and uppity, until I mentioned our need for staff. I thought the man might kiss me. They have a son, horse-mad he is, but he knows his way around London for running errands and such. I thought that, having borne a child, Mrs. Randolph might be able to assist you with some of your discomfort. They like children, pets, and both country and city living. They would not gossip about their previous employers, and they had not helped
themselves to any of the furnishings in lieu of their pay
. The pair seems just what we require.”

Genie did kiss him. It was a quick, impetuous hug and a smack on the cheek. Both of them jumped back.

Genie spoke first. “I am so sorry. I know you do not wish such familiarity.”

“No, no. That was quite, ah, lovely.” Lovely, hell. The painting on the wall was lovely. Genie’s touch was luminous. When had anyone, ever, spontaneously embraced him? It was all he could do not to catch her to him, to feel her so close again. He tried to make light of the shattering impact such a small gesture had made on his equilibrium. “I must remember to bring home servants in the future. I thought to fetch flowers, but I can tell that you are happier with Mr. and Mrs. Randolph.”

She was, and not simply because he had considered her needs. Besides having the chore completed so satisfactorily, she was relieved Ardeth had not gone to that wayward widow for dalliance. More, he had not rebuffed her own sudden show of affection, had not gone stiff and cold. Now she saw a glimmer of hope that they might have a real marriage one day…or one night.

That very night, in fact.

Genie was almost asleep when she heard the tapping again. She sat up and lit a candle, although her excitement might have brightened the room. How wonderful and scary and stirring at the same time—she’d shown her willingness and he’d responded!

She was wearing another filmy nightgown and thought about donning the matching robe, then thought better of it. She hurried to open the connecting door. No one was there. The chamber on the other side was dark and empty, like her hopes.

The tapping came again. Genie went to the window, which was open a bare inch, against the earlier rain and dampness.
Tap. Tap.

“Olive?” She pulled up the window.

“’Awk!” The bird sounded as if his throat was sore. He was wet and bedraggled, missing a feather or two, and trembling. “’Awk.”

“Where have you been, silly bird? I bet you haven’t eaten in days. Heaven knows if you even know how to find food on your own.” She fed him pieces of the biscuits left at her night table to help settle her stomach. “You know Lord Ardeth never meant to toss you out.”