Addison sat at the table. In front of him, but to the side, sat a large platter with one roll, its aroma filling the room. He took the Bath bun, hardly tasting the sweetened flavour as he ruminated on what he should do.
A storm had blown through his life. And he’d brought it inside. He’d not needed anyone to tell him what a mistake it could be. A warning wisp had sounded, but he’d slammed it down, attributing it to an awareness of the desires a woman could stir in him, knowing that even long and longer hours of work didn’t always douse them.
The little ragamuffin was one thing. But the infernal woman was the bigger danger. He’d sensed it in the carriage—an awareness that she was female and he was male and it could be a heady combination. Bringing home a woman from outside a brothel could not end well.
He’d kept reminding himself not to take notice, yet he’d been aware of each time the carriage jostled her. As if his reflections had summoned her, she moved into the room, her eyes taking in the surroundings in a glance. She acknowledged his presence with a subservient nod.
She didn’t seem as defeated as she had the night before. Her eyes were downcast, but somewhere inside her was spirit that had been lacking earlier. Perhaps it was in the straightening of her neck or the fluid movement she made as she entered the room.
She was a widow. It would have been hard to leave a woman like her behind.
‘Ina told me the boy is gone.’ He put the rest of the bun down. ‘Do you plan to stay?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I could not leave my new post.’
A firm statement. But her throat bobbled as she swallowed afterwards.
He pushed the plate aside, twirling the knife between two fingers. He let the utensil clatter on to the dish and clasped his hands together. ‘If you count Stubby, this is the third time I have had to replace a manservant. Beldon hired Crisp, a sweetheart of his. The one before disappeared in the night and I discovered he’d been drinking his way through my liquor.’ Addison had been tempted to summon the constable and pay him to bring the butler to justice, but it would have meant the risk of drawing unpleasant notice to himself. He needed none of that.
Crisp had kept a tidy world and the next butler had done well enough. But he’d been cautious on how he wrote his letters of reference, mentioning dates of service, bookkeeping and cleanliness skills.
Over the past year, more and more things were altered in ways he didn’t like. He also wondered if he’d heard the full story when Mrs Crisp apologised, eyes downcast, on behalf of the servant whom she said had broken the Meissen figurine. Crisp claimed the girl had left in tears, but not to worry, she’d been replaced. With her own niece.
She reassured Addison that she’d cleaned up every last piece of broken porcelain and she’d put an urn on the shelf. He’d doubted anyone could break the urn with a hammer.
It hadn’t felt right to him.
‘Besides you, there is Cook, a scullery girl, Ina, who did as her aunt directed, and, when he is replaced, a manservant. The coachman does not live in, but is amazingly adept at understanding my schedule. Do you think you can handle a household of this size...particularly without Crisp to instruct you?’
‘Of course.’
He could have told her the roof was caving in, the walls were aflame and a cannon needed to be moved into the sitting room and she would have answered the same.
‘I have work to do today and I’ve no time to spare with the minutiae of the daily duties.’ He unclasped his hands and moved back in his chair.
‘Beldon worked as my valet as much as my butler. I’ll have my man of affairs searching out a new manservant for me immediately. See that I have hot shaving water in the morning.’
Again, the same response from her.
‘Can you read?’ He watched for honesty.
‘Yes. Easily.’
‘Good,’ he muttered, the muscles in his legs stretching as he stood. He straightened his cuffs. ‘I’m not sure Ina has mastered that skill and you will need to do the account books until a new housekeeper is hired. I gathered Crisp’s and Beldon’s ledgers last night.’ He indicated the volumes on the far end of the table. He’d not wanted them exiting with Crisp and Beldon.
‘Why did you leave your last post?’ he asked.
‘Mrs Roberts died. Her family no longer needed me to care for her.’
‘What other posts have you had?’ he asked.
‘I lived at my mother’s home until I wed, then after my husband died, I discovered Mrs Roberts was ailing and needed help with her care. I was thankful for the work. I couldn’t return to my mother’s because she had passed on and there was hardly enough money to settle the debts. Mrs Roberts was kindly—a women I’d known for years—but her family was unable to care for her as they wished. The son had a large family of his own that he could barely support.’
‘You took care of the entire dwelling? No one to oversee, or to give direction?’
‘Only Mrs Roberts. It was a small home,’ she admitted.
‘Can you provide the location of your former employer?’
‘Yes. Her son and daughter-in-law. They live in the house next to Mrs Roberts’s home.’
‘This afternoon, when you hear the carriage, give the coachman the location of your previous employer and tell him to check your reference tomorrow and report back to me.’
‘Certainly.’
‘Unless you hear otherwise from me, you are to manage in Mrs Crisp’s position. Starting at this moment.’
Her brows rose. ‘Are you certain?’
‘Yes. With both the butler and Mrs Crisp gone—and her niece could plan to follow—you are the one available. The books will assist you in ordering of supplies...whatever is needed. I want no interruption caused by the change in staff and that seems obtainable with you here.’
Addison stepped around the table, placing himself directly in front of her. He wanted to give her an option and she must understand that his domestic life was important to him.
‘While I may speak with Cook as a friend, and she is, it does not mean that I expect less than perfection from her, or any other employee.’
‘Of course.’ She spoke as if there could be no question.
‘If you fail, the consequences can be swift. Do you understand that?’ His peacefulness would suffer if he overwhelmed her, but she needed to know what she was taking on.
The lashes swept up and he saw the concern behind her eyes. He wanted her to understand his expectations and needs, but he didn’t want to trap her because she had nothing else. He had to give her another option.
‘But if you’d prefer, I’m sure Crisp’s niece will be pleased to take over these duties. It is not my preference, however.’ He softened his voice. ‘The housekeeper will have more responsibilities, particularly as I have no manservant for the time being.’
Her expression showed she was contemplating what he meant and he wanted her to determine if she should accept the lesser post.
Moments passed. He saw dignity in her shoulders and the way she carried her head, but the placid expression didn’t conceal her concern.
‘If it takes that long for you to make up your mind—’
Her chin rose. ‘A housekeeper is a fine occupation. I will take it.’ Her throat quivered a bit as she spoke.
‘No margin for error.’
‘I will not need one,’ she said firmly.
He put his bent fingers over his lips, a thumb at his cheek, hiding his humour. The scared little miss had stared him down.
Sophia studied his library closely, her dusting cloth in her hand, trying to see through the furnishings to the man who lived within them. The one who’d given her another chance in life.
The desk appeared more table except for the deep circular shapes carved around the top sides. The brace underneath was made of curved metal to give stability and still allow him room for his legs. He had one near-empty ink pot, with a full one beside it.
The tabletop was covered with a sheaf of documents near the ink. Three papers were precisely placed. One had numbers and lines on it. The other had tiny writing from top to bottom and the last, a few lines in a language she assumed was Latin.
He trusted her to clean the library and she supposed it to be his most personal room. True, he had no samplers on the wall. No portraits. In fact, she’d not seen a drawing or a painting on the walls, except a few plain engravings. Nothing of a nature to tell what he held dear except the one urn on the mantel in a place of honour.
She wandered to his desk and the small table beside it, which had been left clear except for one page. Then she read down the other written paper—a list of his duties. Some, so complex she didn’t understand what they were, had a line drawn through them.
He had a mountain of work facing him. A mountain.
Then she saw an empty ink pot beside the second, half-filled one. She gripped the container. For the time being, she’d substitute the one in her room and later she’d find paper and make her own notes to follow.
She glanced at his cluttered desktop and saw another page filled with figures. The amount of them made her gasp.
Now she studied the area differently, seeing Addison’s personal nature. It glared at her from the walls which had sconces attached, but nothing else affixed to them. Light to work by. The shelves holding old ledgers. The two straight-backed chairs, one in pristine condition, the other a little worn, facing his desk.
The wood surface completely covered so that he had a table placed at the side.
No wonder he did well in his life.
She recalled his bedroom. The wardrobe with differently hued waistcoats and cravats, yet little variety other than that. Everything austere in her view, except the one comfortable chair which appeared ignored.
Hats and gloves.
A bed that appeared made to fit his specifications. A shaving table in the small dressing room. Stands for three pair of boots which added the scent of boot blacking and leather over the softer shaving soap. A bootjack. Nearby a chair to sit in when he donned the footwear.
If he were royalty, she doubted he would have directed the rooms differently. Perhaps a few more waistcoats and cravats, but she didn’t think he would have truly cared.
She’d seen notable ladies with their beaux or husbands. The men had had little things to twirl or hold. Umbrellas, or fobs, or canes, or snuffboxes. Addison appeared to have none of those, but instead he had his eyes to direct attention and his shoulders and his stature.
No wonder Addison did so well. It was as if the world had been designed for him and he could grasp how to work and create the best life around him.