Lady Epiphany Burrows, nee Warner, Viscountess Jardine and her family, and their staff, arrived in a series of carriages. As a wife and Baroness of one day, and not even knowing the Estate’s layout, nor her own complement of staff, Jane was utterly reliant (and grateful) that Mama and the footman were here to provide assistance.
Epiphany and her husband, Viscount Jardine were first up the stairs and into the vestibule. Epiphany proudly held her swaddling-wrapped baby son in her arms. The trio of older daughters alighted from the carriage behind them, along with a governess, a lady’s maid, several footmen and other staff.
“I trust the rooms are ready?” Epiphany declared as they breezed past their host. “Oh good, you have not made any hideous changes to the property that I can detect.”
One by one the Jardine family entered after the parents. Jane counted a footman or valet for the Lord, and a maid and nurse for the Lady, and a maid of all work and the governess for the daughters. There were a few more she could only presume were kitchen staff and a cook. She was sure Baron E had his own kitchen staff, so there would be sure to be demarcation disputes if she didn’t step in quickly to head that off. One by one, more men wearing Jardine livery instead of Ealing, brought through boxes and trunks of various sizes. An elder retainer in matching Jardine attire directed them to various stairs left and right.
Oh dear, one of them was heading in the direction of the Baron’s rooms!
“The Baron cannot be disturbed,” Jane blurted. Then she recovered with, “He is resting.”
Epiphany slowly turned to Jane. “Did you say something?”
“I did,” Jane breathed through her fury at the way her step-daughter, who admittedly, was also her elder, had so quickly assumed the role of chatelaine. “If we are short of rooms, you may have mine as I have had no need of it. You have my deepest apologies for not having complete knowledge of the layout of the estate. As you may understand, I am only recently married, to your father, the Baron, and I have been otherwise occupied with far more … important things … than committing a floor plan to memory.”
The governess covered the closest granddaughter’s ears in horror at the image these words suggested, then rushed her charges up the nearest set of stairs. No doubt there was some form of nursery wing on that side of the manor. How odd that the Jardine’s governess knew the way. But of course, they would have visited in the past at some point.
“Oh really?” Epiphany took a step closer. Then she nodded. “You do have that freshly plucked look about you, I’ll give you that.” The woman was sizing her up, as if ready to do battle.
Jane breathed again and held her ground.
Epiphany blinked. “Very well, we shall accept your rooms with the grace in which they were offered.”
Only after the Jardines and their full complement of staff had ascended to the floor above did Jane release her breath.
It was going to be a very, very long few days ahead.
“Mama,” Jane said, “Please would you count the rooms in the estate, so that I may at least not appear completely uneducated at this evening’s meal?”
“At once, my darling,” Mama said. She bid her daughter a quick curtsey, which made Jane want to sob and throw her arms about her, but she held back.
Turning to the late Baron’s footman, she said, “Where are the Baron’s staff, I must meet with them urgently.”
He swallowed and kept his voice low, “But, My Lady, they cannot be told about … you know.”
“You are correct. I shall not. But I need to know how many staff we have. As the chatelaine, I need to speak to them before Lady Jardine pours honey in their ears. I have a feeling I may need to assert my authority quickly.”
“Excellent, My Lady.”
“And, Mister Footman, I rather think you need a proper name. I can’t keep calling you Mister Footman.”
“Oh, that’s easy, it’s Foote.”
Jane shook her head in confusion. “What?”
“Foote, with an e on the end. I apparently come from a long line of footmen and it has stuck.”
“I see. Well. In that case, Mister Foote, with and e on the end, please summon all staff into the kitchen and we shall get all in order for luncheon.”
“Excellent, My Lady.” Mr Foote gave her a worthy bow. He rose slowly, looking at her through his long lashes.
Something dangerous flurried inside her.
Perhaps that was her babe letting her know of his future presence? No time to examine any of that now, she had to meet the staff and organize meals and lodgings, learn the entire layout of the estate (and the grounds, now that she came to think of it, but that could wait until it stopped raining) and make sure Epipany Jardine did not discover her father’s current and impossible-to-improve situation.
And all before supper!
* * *
Mr Foote assembled all staff into the kitchens. Jane found herself addressing a small army. Mama had also informed her that as chatelaine she would need to be aware of the staff in the household, although she wouldn’t be directly in charge. That was the senior butler’s role. At some point they would need to inform him that his master was no longer with them, but not in front of the rest of the staff.
As this had been a gentleman’s house for more than a decade, it lacked the number of female staff Jane expected. There were no ladies’ maids, merely two maids of all work and a scullery maid. Her Abigail brought the total to four. Right away Jane decided they should all take up residence in the same room, so as to separate them from the attentions of the others.
The outside staff were all male as well, except for the head gardener’s wife. There were two undergardeners, which implied a productive kitchen garden, and two rather wet stable hands who had busily found accommodation for the new horses that had arrived.
“They’re not half hungry!” one said, then added, “M’Lady.”
Horses were hungry beasts, and the longer they stayed, the more they’d eat. Perhaps Epiphany’s plan was to eat them out of house and home?
“Cook, how many days’ food do we have?”
“We had a good fortnight’s meals, but we din’ know them Jardines would bring so many with them. We’ll be lucky to last the week!”
“They apparently will only be staying for three days, but if this terrible weather keeps up, it may be longer. Please send for more food over the coming days to see us through. If funds are an issue, I have access to some of my dowry. Please don’t have any concerns. Everybody here in the household is valuable and necessary. I assure all staff will remain in Lord Ealing’s employ.”
* * *
Rain lashed the windows, putting an end to any such dreams Jane had of sending their visitors out riding, much less taking a turn in the gardens. To her disappointment, Jane herself had not had time to explore the grounds. Surely one day soon the weather would improve? This was supposed to be summer.
As Jane and Mama made their way down the stairs to head towards the dining room for supper, she noticed a ribbon tied around a vase. Odd, she’d not seen that before.
“That was not there when I last walked this way,” Mama said.
“I was about to say the same.”
Mama said, “Have you seen the bookshelves in the landing? There is a ribbon tied around the handle of the glass door. I can assure you it was not there this morning either.”
“Before the Jardines arrived, you mean?”
Mama nodded.
Jane stopped. “Have you had any time to complete the reconnoiter of the estate?”
“The interior, yes. I have drawn a sketch but shall need to retrace my steps to make sure it’s accurate. However, the ribbons are new, I am sure of it.”
As they walked on, there were more ribbons tied around the legs of chairs, tucked into the edges of paintings and tied to the tassels on the drapes. Whoever had done this had no subtlety. They had also run out of ribbons, by the looks of things, and moved on to slotting cards next to items. A bust of Pliny The Elder had a small card stuck to the top of his head. It was a calling card, and as Jane peeled it off, she found a congealing lump of floury glue on Pliny’s carved curls. The card proudly displayed the name of Lady Jardine.
Jane said, “Why would it have her card on there?”
“Because,” an assertive voice claimed as she walked out of the observatory, clicking the latch into place, “My father always meant for the next Baron to have it. As that is my son, I am making what belongs to him.”
“Aren’t you rather counting your chickens before they hatch, my dear?” Mama said.
Ephiphany breathed slowly, straightened herself and declared with complete confidence, “My husband will be the next Baron Ealing, and my son after him. You can mark that. She,” pointing to Jane, “is not with child. Nor will she ever be.”
“What?” Jane demanded, her breath staggering in her throat. “How dare you!”
“It is a fact. My father is ill. It’s obvious to all and sundry he will not see out the week. Then we need wait only a few more weeks.”
Mama jumped in, “He is tired, that is all. Once rested he will be in fine fettle.”
Lady Jardine smiled with full condescension, “You may think that, but the facts are he has not been well for some time. He always said to me that I would know he was close to leaving this world if he could not greet me with a kiss.”
“Superstitious nonsense!” Mama said.
Jane placed a hand on Mama’s arm to steady the woman’s nerves, as much as her own. “We are to go in to supper. I see no point in creating a scene here. It is not good for the babe.”
“You are correct,” Lady Jardine said, jiggling her son on her hip. “One day all this will be yours, my little lord, and what a lovely time of it we shall have.”
“She didn’t mean your babe,” Mama said.
Lady Jardine’s head rocked back and she laughed. “Oh, chance would be a fine thing.” Then she pointed rudely at Jane and declared, “If she’s with child, I’ll eat my best bonnet!”
* * *
As she sat at the table, beside her husband’s empty chair, every chink of silverware on china hit a nerve with Jane. Adding to her misery, her guests were interminably noisy eaters.
Jardine himself mashed each mouthful of food about with wine, his mastication reminding Jane of a dairymaid thumping and sloshing cream into butter.
The eldest daughter pushed her food around her plate with incessant creaks of metal against porcelain, looking miserable and glum. Lady Jardine held the babe to her the whole time, positing food in her mouth, chewing it, then spitting it into her spoon to smush it into the infant’s dribbling mouth.
Jane gagged multiple times. The only thing stopping her from completely casting up her accounts was the secret delight that this internal revulsion could in fact be a sign that she was with child herself. Mama had said an aversion to food and smells, and bilious moments, were all signs of a babe on the way.
Holding the secret knowledge to herself, Jane pressed on through the meal, doing her best to keep the conversation light.
“I trust your journey here was uneventful? The roads have become almost impassable in this weather.” She ventured.
Epiphany stopped feeding her babe his pre-chewed food and said, “Is my father to join us at all?”
“He is resting,” Jane confirmed.
“He was resting when we arrived. Exactly how much rest does one man require?”
Jane played with her hands beneath the table. “We are newly married, My Lady.”
“A fact you keep throwing in my face. But where is my beloved father? You say he is resting, for all we know, you’ve dumped his body in a river and left him for dead!”
Heavens, what terrible conversation for the table!
Thankfully, Mama intervened. “He is recovering in his rooms, I shall arrange a meeting after supper.”
Jane shot an impassioned and yet terrified look in her mother’s direction. How were they to manage that?
Epiphany fed more pre-digested food into her baby’s maw. “I look forward to it.”
Mama leaned in to Jane and said, “Keep Lady Piff busy and I’ll get everything set. Send the footman my way.”
Lady Piff? Oh, she meant Epiphany. Jane held back a giggle. It lightened her heart for a moment, before the heavy duty of lying about the Baron’s health needed to be done.
Jane begged the Lord to forgive her such a terrible sin. She was not doing it for herself, she was doing this for all the staff, who were in a far more vulnerable situation than she.
* * *
Hands sweating with fear, Jane opened the doors to her master’s rooms. Liberally applied rose water and sandalwood filled the air, along with burnt sage and something she couldn’t identify.
The curtains were drawn as the evening closed in. The low candlelight supplied a warm yellow glow. Her husband was supine in the bed, with a night cap covering a good deal of his forehead and brows, and the covers pulled all the way up to his neck.
Despite the poor light, the person in the bed was most definitely Baron Ealing, not Mr Foote taking on the role.
To her (muffled) shock, the man’s hand rose from one side of the covers. “Nuff, dayback.”
“Do you have a cold, dear father?” Epiphany asked.
Something miraculous happened. The covers rose ever so slightly above his chest. He wasn’t dead after all, he still breathed!
“Horrid, stay back,” he said again.
Joy filled Jane’s heart! Her husband was alive. They were saved! She had more chances to make sure she was with child, and the staff were safe. In a few days the Jardines would be gone and she could begin her newlywed life with her husband.
What wonderful news!
Epiphany held her babe in front of her and lifted the folds of his clothing to reveal his bare skin beneath. “I have been delivered of a son!” She declared.
Baron Ealing grunted again and said something that sounded like, ‘Well done.’
“He shall be the next Baron Ealing but one, father.” Epiphany declared.
Jane cleared her throat at that. “Not if my child is a boy.”
Epiphany turned on Jane with the speed of a striking snake and loomed closer to her. “You cannot possibly be with child. You have been married but one day!”
Jane stepped back towards the doors, an urge to flee rising. “Well, I … cannot say for certain, but I may be.”
A stream of wee flew out from the boy child in Epiphany’s arms, missing Jane’s clothing and landing on the Aubusson rug. Surely her gag-reflex was already proof she was pregnant? “There is a good chance I may yet be with child.”
Epiphany narrowed her eyes but did not say anything further. Instead, she stormed out of the room and shut the doors behind her, leaving Jane in the dark.
“Is she gone?” her Mama’s quiet voice said.
“Yes,” Jane said, looking in the dim light to avoid the darker patch on the carpet. Mama was here? That had to be good. “Where are you?”
Mama stepped out from the dressing room. “She’s a forceful one, that Piff.”
Jane embraced her mother and wanted to cry with relief. “I saw him breathing, is there hope for us yet?”
It was the footman’s turn to reveal himself as he wriggled out from underneath the bed.
“That was me,” he confessed, producing a small bellows and a flexible hose. He demonstrated a few puffs, and the bedding rose over the Baron’s chest.
Jane’s hopes crashed like a kicked milking bucket. She had believed the vision before her. “It was most convincing,” she said with a sniff.
“I am sorry to have raised your hopes, my darling,” Mama said. “But if it’s any consolation, I believe Lady Jardine was very well convinced, and that was the desired outcome.”
Jane slumped. “We shall have to keep this mummery in play until they leave, and they’ve made no mention of when that might be.”
“I’m afraid so. Now, my dear, if we may have a little private conversation,” Mama said. “I have some more upsetting news.”
* * *
“What do you mean I can’t be with child?” Jane said, “All the things that you said would happen have happened, so that means I am carrying the next Baron Ealing. If it is a boy.”
Mama held her warmly and with reassurance. “I am so sorry, my dear, but I do not believe he managed to finish the act that he needed to perform.”
Confusion took hold. “In what way?”
“He was completely dry, my dear. I examined him.”
“Mama!”
Another embrace and more soothing noises from her mother ensued. “It’s all perfectly fine, nobody else needs to know. But the fact is, he did not spill his seed inside you. And that is what is needed to get with child. Fret not, we shall keep this from the Jardines. We have many months to find alternative employment for the staff here. Your marriage was valid in the eyes of God, and we have not lost your dowry, so you shall be able to marry again at some time in the future.”
“But …” Jane’s mind swirled back to the previous evening, before her life had fallen to pieces. “He climbed on top of me and pushed at me…” Jane felt every kind of fool there ever could be. As she said the words out loud, she realised Mama had to be correct. “How did it not work?”
“I’m so sorry I did not explain the marriage bed in more detail. I truly believed the Baron was healthier than he let on, and that there would be no need for any of this. But he needed to put himself properly inside you and … when I examined him… well, you see, I wasn’t really examining, but when I was dressing him in a night shirt and I had to prise his hand away from his member, that’s when I noticed how dry he was, and how there was no sign of any seed anywhere. It has a … distinctive smell.”
Jane refuted. “But I have felt nauseous and faint today!”
“I would too if my step-daughter arrived with her entire family and extended staff the day after my wedding.”
Jane threw herself on the chaise and wanted to cry. No tears came, however, so she sat up and took in some deep breaths. “Even after they leave, I am sure they have spies keeping them informed of events here. In a short while they will realise I am in fact not with child and then what? They march straight back in and kick the lot of us out?”
They both sat in silence for a while, until Mama said, “Unless …”
“Unless what?”
“Unless we could get you with child anyway.”
Jane creased her forehead in confusion. “Cut a dead man’s seed from his body you mean?”
“No, that would … be beyond sin, and I don’t know how that could even work. But Mr Foote might be able to assist.”
Again Jane had to think for a little while, to absorb the true meaning of what her mother suggested. “Are you saying I lay with him, get with child and pass it off as the Baron’s?”
“Would that … be so bad?” Mama said with a shrug.
“It would be wrong, Mama.” Jane could not believe her mother’s suggestion. “Very, very wrong.”
“As would sending all the Baron’s loyal staff out into the streets in this merciless weather.”