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CHAPTER 1
Hampshire, England, 1815
Lady Florence was dead.
The old lady departed peacefully and with a secretive smile on her face, her passage to heaven oiled by the last drops of brandy left in the cut crystal decanter on her bedside cabinet.
Her death had been nicely timed, for it was autumn and there had been some drenching rain after a particularly dry summer. It had softened the top soil so the gravediggers could shovel the earth from the grave without fear of the sides caving in lower down, where the earth was still firm.
James Archibald, Lady Florence's pompous, pot-bellied legal representative had travelled the twenty miles or so from Southampton using a private carriage. He gathered the six servants together. 'Apart from you, Ellis, Lady Florence has left each of you a bequest, the sum of which has not yet been disclosed.' But along with the good came the bad as James Archibald found his second wind and puffed out, 'You will all work out a month's notice. Lady Florence's executor has been informed by messenger and I imagine he'll arrive in time for the funeral and stay here for as long as it takes to wind up the estate.'
The servants muttered amongst themselves and the attorney raised his voice.
'The house will be boarded up until her nephew is informed of his aunt's demise and we receive instructions as to the fate of the building. You will be paid at the end of the month, and be warned, you will forfeit both wage and legacy should you decide to leave prematurely and without permission.'
Grace doubted if Lady Florence would have put such a condition in her will. 'Perhaps we should wait to see what the executor has to say about it before you impose conditions on us.'
'It's a bloody liberty, if you asks me. What if we're offered another position?' the cook muttered. 'And what about Sam?'
'Sam? There's nobody by that name in the staff book.'
'Lady Florence took him in and he looks after the donkey and the horses of visitors while they're here.'
'Who pays him for that?'
'The visitors I reckon. Lady Florence provided him with his meals and gave him a bed in the stable loft. He does odd jobs as well.'
'Tell him he must leave, the visitors can look after their own horses. Brian can look after the donkey.'
'It's not my job to tell him.'
'You are speaking out of turn to your superior.'
'Out of turn? Whose turn to talk is it then, pray? There's only one windbag here that I can see?' Jessie grinned at her husband ... though whether she and Brian were truly wed was a matter for conjecture, Grace thought.
Uncertainty flitted across Archibald's face. 'I imagine exceptions can be made.'
A sniff of indignation came from the cook and she folded her meaty arms on her chest. 'Warning us, did you say earlier; are you calling us dishonest?'
'No ... I didn't mean that at all. One or two of you might be tempted to leave earlier when you are needed here, and I'll be in trouble if the inventory isn't up to date.'
Grace sighed. 'There's nobody to chastize you until the nephew arrives from the continent, Mr Archibald. By that time the inventory will be completed. If anything is missing we can put it down to household breakages ... they do happen on occasion.'
Archibald loosened his collar and gazed around him, clearly flustered. 'It will take at least two months to sort out, and just when I was about to retire. Where's Pawley? Somebody fetch him, please? He was responsible for keeping the household accounts, I recall.'
Grace stepped forward. 'Mr Pawley is no longer with us.'
'You mean Pawley has died as well?' Blood drained from his cheeks and he pressed his hand against his chest. 'Oh dear ... oh dear.'
'Bring a brandy for the gentleman, if we have any, Jessie,' and Grace led him to a chair. 'Sit down, do, Mr Archibald. Mr Pawley is still alive, as far as we know, and I see no reason why you shouldn't retire when, no doubt, Lady Florence's executor is highly skilled and extremely diligent.'
The attorney took a sip of the brandy, smacked his lips and the colour began to return to his face. 'And your position is?'
'I was Lady Florence's companion. Mr Pawley was discharged some five months ago and she asked me to take over management of the household and the books.'
His voice rose an octave. 'But you're a female.'
'Good lord, I hadn't noticed that before,' Grace murmured, turning it into a cough when the attorney levelled a stare at her.
'What's your name, young lady – how old are you?'
Why did men think females were useless for anything but housework, embroidering cushion covers and bearing children? 'My name is Grace Ellis and I'm twenty years of age.'
'Where did you train for the management position?'
'I kept the household and business accounts for my father until his death two years ago. I was also able to manage Lady Florence's ... "affliction". I do have some knowledge concerning the preparation of herbal remedies. Who better to administer to a woman than another woman?'
'Under a man's guidance, of course.'
Grace felt like tearing his ears off. 'As you indicate, Mr Archibald. Lady Florence was very ill at the time and had a hacking cough and a fever. Her death came as a blessing, for Mr Pawley's transgression grieved her.'
He cleared his throat. 'Indeed. There is no need to furnish me with the details, young lady.'
'I'm sorry, sir, but I daresay I will be looking for employment soon, so the more people who are made aware of my skills, the more likely a successful outcome will result.'
'Very enterprising of you, my dear.'
'That goes for the rest of the staff, of course. Winter is not far away and it's a bad time to look for work.'
'Indeed.'
'May I ask why wasn't I treated like the rest of the staff?' 'With regards to?'
'The staff legacies.'
He flapped his hand at the rest of the staff. 'You may go about your business.'
When the door closed behind the staff, he turned to her. 'Ah, yes,' and he shuffled from one foot to the other. 'Lady Florence had her reasons, of which you will learn in due time.' He patted her hand in a familiar manner and left it there. 'Don't you worry, my dear, I'm sure we can find a little spare cash about the house. A favour for a favour, I aways say. Perhaps you and I can do a little business together. Tell me, Miss Ellis, what was the nature of Lady Florence's affliction? I've heard rumours she had some fine medicinal brandy tucked away in her cellar. Perhaps I'll take a few bottles home, for she won't be needing them now.'
Tugging her hand away from his, Grace shuddered. The odious little rat! Lady Florence liked a drink, as did many people, and she sometimes became slightly merry. Grace amended 'sometimes' to 'often', and then she admitted to herself the truth. Her mistress had been in her cups much too often, and sometimes to the point of collapse. Grace had done her best to look after her but it wasn't her place to tell Lady Florence what she should or shouldn't do.
Lady Florence had told her, 'Grace, my girl, a brandy or two has a mellowing effect and helps me to resurrect the ghosts of my past. If I've learned anything from my life it's that I don't regret one damned thing, especially the men. The dear creatures can give a woman so much pleasure. But then, with you being a doctor's daughter, you would probably measure men and their various parts through a more anatomical manner ... hmmm?'
Trying to appear worldly, Grace had mumbled something and turned away, embarrassed.
'No good trying to hide that blush,' the woman had teased. 'Have you ever seen a man's shaft when it's in good working order? Such a silly looking appendage, but ah ... put it to work and it becomes so warm, vibrant and pleasurable. But there, my dear, I shouldn't shock you. I recall the virginal state as being tedious; what say you?'
Although she'd blushed Grace agreed with the sentiment. Keeping herself tidy in case a suitable man with marriage on his mind happened to come along was becoming more unnecessary as each day sent her sliding a little bit further down the social scale into servitude. She'd allowed Lady Florence to have the last word since she hadn't wanted to encourage the woman – which didn't mean she didn't think about what went on between men and women, and often!
Now, outside of her warm circle of thought Mr Archibald intruded with an impatient humming sound in his throat. She couldn't imagine his manly appendage giving any woman pleasure since his stomach would get in the way. But then, she knew nothing about such matters except the information gleaned from her father's books, and those hadn't mentioned any emotional content to the act of procreation.
'Are you listening, Miss Ellis?'
Grace gave him a faint smile as she scrambled to pick up the thread of the conversation.
'You'll have to discuss Lady Florence's condition with her doctor, sir. I'm not qualified to diagnose it, especially on her death, but I would have thought it was brought on by her advanced age. No doubt the doctor will provide you with a death certificate.'
'Quite so ... I'm surprised you were placed in such a responsible position, and at so young an age.'
'As you indicated before, Mr Archibald.'
'Come, come, Miss Ellis, don't get haughty with me. You know very well I'm referring to Lady Florence's disposition.'
'Disposition?'
His sigh had an edge of exasperation to it. 'I understood Lady Florence could be difficult.'
'From whom?' Grace had never found her to be difficult. She'd been straightforward, generous, sometimes acerbic and often vulgar. Grace was sorry the old lady had died, but she knew Lady Florence wouldn't have encouraged her to mourn, but to turn her mind to her own future. What would she do now? She had a little put by because since she'd entered the household eighteen months previously she'd saved nearly every penny she'd earned. And she had prospects, just that morning, Jessie, the housemaid had offered, 'Come to Australia with Brian and me if you can't find anywhere else to go. We can always pool our money. We're going to search for gold. It will be such an adventure, luvvy, I can't imagine you working in a mine, though. You could always start a school for the miners' brats.'
'I'll bear it in mind,' she'd said, even though the idea didn't really appeal to her. They'd both laughed at the thought of the diminutive Grace yielding a pickaxe.
'Perhaps you could start a school. You're good with children and the afflicted.'
Grace had been encouraged by the offer for she'd never really got along with Jessie and her husband. Sometimes their manner was disrespectful towards Lady Florence, and Grace had caught them listening at keyholes more than once when their mistress had visitors. They had also been the friends of the disgraced Pawley.
Afflictions in Lady Florence's household usually meant a splinter in the thumb, grit in the eye, a sore tooth, which an application of cinnamon would usually cure, or an aching joint relieved by a gentle rub of wintergreen ointment on the site of pain.
Her father's illness had been incurable, brought on by his excesses. His death had been instant and the certificate stated he'd died from a sudden brain seizure. How would the death certificate word Lady Florence's affliction? Grace had told the doctor that Lady Florence had been short of breath of late.
He would be kind, for the man had been one of the old lady's lovers, or so she'd said. Passed away peacefully in her sleep would be appropriate, she imagined.
Grace's mind drifted into the future. She might be able to buy one of those medicine carts in Australia and go from town to town, selling lotions and potions and medicines.
No ... she was a woman alone and to take up such a scheme would be to place herself in constant danger from felons, highwaymen, or worse, wild animals. Where would she sleep, eat, bathe – buy her supplies of herbs and feed for the horse? She could ride a horse, but not expertly, and she could manage with a cart attached, also not expertly. Mostly she used the donkey cart when she needed to go into the town.
'Will you kindly stop dreaming girl. Tell me, why I was not informed of these staff changes?'
Jerked back to the present, Grace said, 'I couldn't say, sir. Most likely Lady Florence would have informed you on your quarterly visit, which is long overdue since she was expecting you at the beginning of September. From my observations she may have had good reason to mistrust Mr Pawley.'
'What reason?'
'Pawley wouldn't take instructions from Lady Florence and sometimes swore at her. I understand he left when Lady Florence told him she was going to write to her financial manager and ask him to do an audit.'
What Grace didn't tell him was that several amounts of cash had been secreted away by the old lady. She didn't trust the attorney either, and she thought it best for the executor to sort it out.
And she'd noticed that Archibald had already counted the cash in the old lady's pocket, which had been left on her dresser and overlooked by Grace. When he thought nobody was looking, he'd tipped most of the contents into his waistcoat pocket, leaving just a coin or two, so the theft wouldn't be obvious.
'Dear, dear,' and the attorney's lips pursed. 'I do wish I'd been informed of this sooner. You had better fetch me the books so I can see if I can make anything of them. And bring the key to the wine cellar as well.'
'I'm afraid I can't. When Lady Florence noticed a discrepancy she called in her financial adviser. John Howard collected the books and took them away with him. I've been keeping a list of the household accounts in a notebook though, and have all the receipts. Would you like to see those?'
'You might as well hand them to her executor to deal with since I won't be able to collect her signature for payment. The key to the cellar?'
'Missing, I'm afraid.'
He raised an eyebrow. 'Missing!'
She nodded. 'That's what I said. Now ... with your permission, sir, Jessie and I will see to Lady Florence We are just about to prepare her for her lying in.'
'Doesn't the undertaker do that?'
'Lady Florence wouldn't like strangers to handle her. I promised I'd take care of that task.'
Colour crept under the man's skin. 'Quite.'
'I've also taken it upon myself to inform the undertaker of her demise, and they should be here shortly. Lady Florence chose her casket and made her arrangements some time ago. Her wish is to lie in state in the morning room, so people can pay their respects. I hope you don't mind me going ahead with the arrangements as Lady Florence instructed.'
'On the contrary, it's a relief to find someone efficient in charge. A woman with such good sense is a rarity and I'm much relieved. Are you sure the key to the cellar is missing?' 'Yes ... I've looked everywhere for it. I've also tried all the other house keys, and the door is too solid to kick it down.'
Grace sighed when he left her to it. 'A rarity, huh!' she snorted, and rang the bell for Jessie to return.
For once Lady Florence was unable to complain about her aches and pains, but lay there, silently. She was as cold as a lizard in winter. Hands, brown mottled by age, were held together in an attitude of prayer – a gold cross on a gold chain bound them together. She waited for the undertaker, her eyes partially open and gleaming from under slitted lids. They flickered in the candlelight but were focussed inwards.
Jessie was reluctant to touch the corpse. 'Tis said the departing soul of the dead might steal the spirit of those in attendance, so it can live its life over again.'
'Nonsense,' Grace scoffed but she didn't push it because as she removed the woman's rings she noticed her fingers were already becoming stiff.
She slipped the rings into her apron pocket.
It wasn't the first corpse Grace had seen and she wasn't squeamish. All the same, when they turned the dead woman over and she made a gurgling noise the pair of them jumped, poised for flight.
Jessie whispered, 'Are you sure she's dead?'
'Why don't you ask her? She might tell you.'
When Jessie gave a nervous giggle, Grace grinned and drew on the threads of knowledge she'd gleaned from her father's books and from snippets of loose talk when he'd entertained others of the medical fraternity. The subject of bodies and the ailments they suffered from was interesting rather than macabre, she thought, as she padded the apertures of Lady Florence's body so she wouldn't begin to smell unpleasant.
Her father had mostly been matter-of-fact about such matters. 'I wish all my students were as diligent as you,' he'd said once, and then he'd sighed and spoiled the compliment. 'A pity you weren't my son instead of my daughter. However, we might be able to turn you into a useful midwife in time.'
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "A Marriage Of Convenience"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Janet Woods.
Excerpted by permission of Severn House Publishers Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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