Page 15 of His Extraordinary Duchess

Chapter Fifteen

T he entry hall was in chaos. Claudia counted at least a dozen people, most in wool caps and red cloaks that suggested they would not be the typical guests of Tyneham Manor. His Grace stood in the midst, beaming benevolently at Mr. Kinsle and whoever had most recently captured his attention. Like Joseph and Frederick, he had the russet hair of the Darling family, now a bit mussed as he handed his top hat to one of the footmen, and she knew from experience that those clear blue eyes behind silver-rimmed spectacles could look very canny.

But he simply had no idea how a duke should behave.

As she approached, the sea of people parted, and most began curtseying or bowing as if they knew they were meeting a duchess. The noise must have alerted the others, for Sir Winfred appeared at the head of the stairs, and Sophia, Oliver, and Georgie came in from the direction of the sitting room. Georgie had Anastasia up in her arms as if to protect the pug from being trampled or to protect the newcomers from being welcomed with licks.

“Your Grace,” Claudia said, raising her voice only slightly as the other voices quieted. “How good of you to come. We were not expecting you.”

“At least, not today,” he said with his characteristic wry humor. “I see you have a guest already.” He nodded up the stairs.

Sir Winfred descended.

“Allow me to introduce Sir Winfred Darling,” Claudia said to the duke. “If my calculations are correct, he is your fourth cousin.”

“Your Grace,” Sir Winfred said, but he did not bow, merely offering his hand.

“Cousin,” the duke said, shaking it. “Very good to meet you. I saw in the will that you are to have a room ready whenever it suits you. I’m very glad it suited you at the same time it suited me.”

“Yes, well,” Sir Winfred huffed, “I hardly expected you to bring your entire family.”

“Ah, but these are not family, at least, not yet.” He smiled around at all the others, who did their best to smile back without looking too uncomfortable, then returned his gaze to Claudia. “I’ve been reading your letters and taking pains to address each issue. These are the staff you require.”

Every fiber of her being tensed. He’d hired her staff? The temerity! To not even consult her!

Of course, the manor needed them badly. She and Mr. Kinsle had bemoaned the fact just recently. They had been fully staffed while Joseph and Frederick had lived, but anyone who could easily find a position elsewhere had begun fleeing when Robert Darling had proven so difficult an employer, and more had left rather than see who would come next.

But she had been fully prepared to hire new ones, ones who would mesh well with the current staff, ones who would be willing to live in so small a village.

Ones who would be loyal and efficient.

What did this duke know of such things? At Christmas, he’d told them he didn’t even employ a valet!

“How… kind,” she said, trying not to grit her teeth. “A shame we had no warning to set up rooms for them or cook a proper dinner or even ensure they had suitable attire to begin their work.”

The duke smiled at Mr. Kinsle. “I understand that can be dealt with in quick time.”

He understood nothing. “It seems we must ask you for a miracle, Mr. Kinsle,” she said.

Her butler had the good sense to color.

A hand brushed her shoulder, and she felt Ben’s breath against her ear. “The room.”

The room!

Her heart somersaulted, but Claudia did no more than lift her head. “Perhaps I can be of assistance.” She turned to her butler. “Mr. Kinsle, take the new staff to the kitchen, inform Mrs. Bettleton of the extra mouths to feed, and sort out who is to fill which position. I will see to His Grace’s room. We both know it could use a little tidying.”

The butler blinked, then nodded hurriedly, as if he too realized what was at stake. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Sir Winfred had apparently forgotten. “Now, now,” he put in gruffly. “No one would expect you to sully your fingers, my dear Claudia. Surely a maid…”

Claudia glared at him. “I prefer to see to such matters myself.”

Frowning, he subsided.

“I’m sure the room is fine,” the duke put in amicably. “No need to go to any trouble.”

“Ah, but Her Grace is such a gracious hostess, always putting herself out for others,” Ben said. He stepped forward and blocked Claudia from the duke’s view. “I know you must be anxious to see how the plans are coming along, Your Grace. I’d be happy to show you. You too, Sir Winfred.”

As people shuffled this way and that, Ben bent closer to Claudia once more. “Do what you must. I’ll keep him busy.”

“Bless you,” she whispered back.

She tipped her head to Sophia and Georgie then lifted her skirts and ascended the stairs with dignity, as if fear wasn’t dogging her steps.

“You’re tidying?” Georgie asked, joining her at the top and wrinkling her nose until she looked a bit like Anastasia. Beside her, Oliver was frowning.

Sophia elbowed Georgie, then craned her neck as if to be certain the duke had progressed down the corridor with Ben and Sir Winfred.

“The secret room!” she hissed to the others.

Georgie paled.

“Help me clear it, please,” Claudia said, “before His Grace learns of it.”

Georgie, Sophia, and Oliver fell into step behind her.

“What shall we do with it?” Georgie asked as they entered the duke’s bedchamber.

“Take it all to my room for now,” Claudia answered. She and Sophia wiggled the desk aside, then Claudia swung wide the door. It seemed more resistant to movement this time, as if it held more weight, but perhaps that was because now she knew what was inside.

“I doubt he’d even know it was here,” Sophia pointed out, squeezing past her. “My duke never mentioned finding it.”

“I can’t take that chance,” Claudia said as Georgie and Oliver joined them as well. “And he has the right to know about it, but not what’s in it. At least, not until we’re sure what it all means.”

Oliver looked at her askance, but Georgie set down Anastasia.

“Here, Oliver. Help me.” Claudia opened one of the cases and began filling the boy’s arms with papers.

It took two trips to clear the bulk of it. Some of the books and the furnishings would not tell any tales. On the second trip, they discovered Violette in Claudia’s room, staring about at the paintings and documents.

“Will you find somewhere to store it in here?” Claudia asked her, dusting off her hands. “I must see to the new staff.”

Her maid bobbed a curtsey, though her face bore a frown. “ Oui, madame .”

“Come, Oliver,” Georgie said as they all exited Claudia’s room, having already shut the door to the secret room and repositioned the desk. “I’ll show you how to brush Anastasia.”

Oliver glanced down at the pug, who was trotting along beside them, feet dusted grey from the floor of the room. “Her hair never looks mussed.”

“But she so likes being prettied,” Georgie said with a smile. She nodded to Claudia before ushering the boy toward the withdrawing room.

“Do you need help?” Sophia asked Claudia as they reached the stairs.

“Not with the servants,” Claudia said. “You might rescue Mr. Warden. I don’t know how long he can keep His Grace occupied.”

Sophia squeezed her arm. “Consider it done.”

They came down the stairs together, then Sophia headed for the library and Claudia continued for the kitchen.

She expected to find the space in an uproar, but the new staff were seated around their dining table, and a slender woman with brown hair sleeked back from a pointed-chinned face stood at the head.

“Good, that’s everyone settled,” the woman said with a nod. Then her gaze traveled to Claudia, and she dropped a deep curtsey. “Your Grace.”

Immediately the others popped to their feet and either curtsied or bowed, nearly oversetting the benches.

“This is Mrs. Carmichael, Your Grace,” Mr. Kinsle said, stepping forward from where he’d been watching. “His Grace hired her as our new housekeeper.”

“Indeed,” Claudia said, looking the woman over. Up close, Mrs. Carmichael was younger than she’d first appeared, perhaps not even thirty. Her eyes were a light green at odds with her coloring, like jade in marble. And her back was ramrod straight in her simple, black bombazine gown.

She inclined her head, but she did not cower to find herself so studied. “Indeed. I have some experience managing a household, Your Grace. I was housekeeper for the country estate of the Marquis DeGuis for a time. We had no butler, so I supervised all sixteen staff. More recently, Mr. Ruebens, a prominent London banker, purchased one of the larger homes outside London and had me hire and manage his staff, all twenty-four of them.”

Impressive, but Claudia was not about to give ground so easily. “Mr. Kinsle has managed the staff admirably since coming into his position in December.”

Her butler inclined his head. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’ve tried to live up to the trust you and His Grace have in me.”

Was he trying to remind her that His Grace had had a hand in his elevation? That didn’t mean all the duke’s decisions would turn out so well. Still, she could find no fault at the moment with Mrs. Carmichael.

“Mr. Kinsle and I are agreed that he will direct the daily workings of the male staff and I will direct the workings of the female staff, except your lady’s maid, of course,” Mrs. Carmichael told her. “I will discuss staffing, meals, and household preparations with you weekly. Will that suit?”

It actually sounded wonderful. Perhaps she had an ally in managing the manor. She was almost afraid to trust the relief that coursed through her.

“It will,” Claudia said. “And you and Mr. Kinsle have settled the disposition of the other staff?”

“We have,” she said, and Mr. Kinsle nodded his approval.

“Well, then,” Claudia said with a look to the others, who had been watching warily, “welcome to Tyneham Manor, and thank you for your service. I’m sure it will be exemplary.”

They all curtsied or bowed again, smiles reappearing, and she was able to leave them.

As the kitchen door closed behind her, Claudia stopped and drew in a breath. Since the day Frederick had died, life in Tyneham Manor had been in shambles. She’d managed and finagled and planned and schemed to keep everyone safe, fed, and housed. She was used to dealing with one crisis after another.

And much as she was glad for the good that was coming, she couldn’t quite excuse this duke for forcing a crisis when it wasn’t necessary.

Raising her chin, she marched for the library.

Sophia had engaged the duke in conversation by the windows overlooking the formal garden. Sir Winfred and Ben were hovering near the hearth as if they weren’t sure what to do with themselves. His Grace looked up as Claudia entered.

“Your Grace. Please, join us.”

So gracious, and in her own house! Claudia kept her face neutral as she took a seat at the table. Sophia and the duke joined her, and Ben and Sir Winfred took up places near the desk.

“What a challenging journey you must have had,” Claudia said to the duke, arranging her skirts. “It cannot be easy traveling with so many.”

“We were two nights on the road,” he allowed, leaning back in the chair. “But I found the innkeepers very accommodating.”

“It helps to be a duke,” Sir Winfred said with a tight smile.

“Perhaps that was it,” the duke acknowledged. He adjusted his spectacles and smiled at Claudia. “I want you to know that I read all your letters with great interest, Your Grace. May I call you Claudia? We are family it seems.”

In the eyes of the law. “Very well, Your Grace.”

He tsked. “I must be Max, then, to you and the others.”

She could never be so informal!

Sir Winfred cleared his throat. “I believe it more appropriate to call you Tyneham.”

The duke pursed his lips, looking very young indeed. “But it doesn’t roll off the tongue, does it?”

He was so humble, so disingenuous, she found it difficult to remain angry with him. “Be that as it may,” Claudia said, “I am grateful you sought to rectify the problems with the staff at least.”

“And other issues,” he promised her. “After all, I sent you Mr. Warden, who is developing a marvelous plan for the manor. I take it the two of you have been getting on well?” He glanced between them.

Ben inclined his head, and Claudia willed her cheeks not to redden. “Mr. Warden is a consummate professional. I have complete confidence in his ability to remodel the manor in a style that will benefit all of us.”

“Splendid,” Max said, smile widening. “Now, suppose you show me that secret room.”

* * *

“You had to tell him,” Claudia murmured to Ben as they followed the duke up the main staircase. Sir Winfred and Her Grace the Third had wisely decamped for other parts of the house, the latter with a commiserating look to Claudia.

“I didn’t,” Ben murmured back with a grimace. “He noticed the space on the plans.”

“Of course he did,” Claudia said. “Thank you for giving me a moment to clear it out.”

It had been the least he could do. He had never lived in a house as large as Tyneham Manor, with as many staff, but Jane had scolded him early in their marriage for bringing a friend home for dinner without warning her. In this case, the amount of food served, the space for the servants to sleep, their roles and clothing all must be considered ahead of time. It seemed His Grace hadn’t planned any of that. Small wonder Claudia had been furious with the fellow.

His Grace entered the duke’s bedchamber and glanced around. He must not have stayed in it the last time he’d visited the manor, for he nodded, lower lip out. “Very nice. And I think the opening should be about here?” He strode to the wall and pointed.

Clever fellow. When Claudia hesitated, Ben moved forward. “Exactly, Your Grace. Allow me to open it for you.”

He swiveled the desk aside. The door opened stiffly, with a decided squeak. He’d have to look to see if the frame was settling after sudden use.

Ben stepped back to allow the duke to enter, then followed him in. The room looked much as Ben had last seen it, but many of the books and all of the writings and drawings were gone, and the paneling above the bookshelves looked darker without the painting covering it.

“How disappointing you found nothing worth noting,” His Grace said. His gaze dropped to the floor, where the slight coating of dust had been disturbed by the sweep of skirts and the tiny prints of a dog. The duke frowned.

Ben waited for questions, but his client merely turned back to the bedchamber. “I find myself tired from the journey. I’ll see you both at dinner.”

Claudia’s lashes fluttered a moment, but that was the only indication of her agitation before she nodded. “Yes, of course.” She left with Ben.

Once the door closed behind them, she caught his arm. “Do you think he knows?”

“He suspects,” Ben said, eyeing the door. “You’ll have to tell him.”

“I will,” she promised. “But I think a visit to the Grange in order first. It seems the man we seek might be in residence. I have a number of questions. Will you come with me?”

So like Claudia, to take on an issue herself.

“Certainly,” Ben said, leading her toward the stairs. “But perhaps Sir Winfred would be a better choice given the sensitive nature of your mission.”

She shuddered. “No. There’s something off about him lately. I would prefer someone I trust.”

He told himself not to preen that she trusted him instead of the baronet. “Then I am honored. But how will you explain your absence to the duke?”

She raised her chin in that gesture he was coming to know all too well. “As the duchess, it’s past time I saw to the needs of our tenants, even those with so long a leasehold. I’ll ask Sophia to accompany us. Georgie will likely be happy to stay with Oliver. I don’t think we can accomplish it today, but perhaps tomorrow, assuming His Grace doesn’t commandeer our time.”

* * *

Violette eased her way into the kitchen, curious about these new staff. She had bumped into a few on the stairs, hurrying up to the staff quarters to put away their meager belongings. The others were following Mr. Kinsle, the new housekeeper, or Cook about, attempting to learn their roles and expectations. Maisy had told her their duties were to commence tomorrow. Violette was about to return upstairs to see to Her Grace when the duke walked in.

A pan fell with a clatter. Every voice went silent. Skirts rustled as the ladies curtsied. The gentlemen bowed. All gazes dropped to the flagstone floor.

“I trust you are all getting on well?” he asked.

Violette chanced a glance up to find that His Grace was looking around with his usual pleasant smile. Slowly, spines straightened, and gazes rose. Cook nudged one of her assistants, who scrambled to pick up the pan.

Mrs. Carmichael stepped forward. “Yes, Your Grace. Thank you. Everyone has been very cooperative.”

“Exactly as you hoped, Your Grace,” Mr. Kinsle agreed. “And, though she didn’t show it, I think Her Grace was pleased.”

The duke nodded. “Good, good. And the grander plan?”

“Coming along well,” Mr. Kinsle said, “wouldn’t you say, Violette?”

She tried not to flinch as the duke’s clear blue gaze swung her way. “Her Grace is warming to him and the boy, as you predicted, Your Grace,” she told him. “But she fights her attraction.”

He sighed. “I expected as much. There is a great deal of pride in Her Grace the First. And she has had to fight for some time. Giving up won’t be easy.” He nodded as if coming to a decision. “It seems I arrived just in time. Here’s what I’d like you to do tomorrow…”