“His Grace is very proud of the system of water and drainage pipes he's had built into various parts of this household to facilitate its functioning.”
Lizzie frowned.
“What do the pipes do?”
“I shall let His Grace explain that, you’ve heard how insistent he sounded,” Stevenson said with a serious face, but it seemed to Lizzie like he was affectionately joking about his master.
They talked for the better part of the hour about the fine details on fireplaces, the intricate moulding on the ceilings, the symmetry of certain furniture arrangements, as well as their opinion on colour.
“But pastels are soplain,” Elizabeth said earnestly.
“I hope Madam will forgive me for disagreeing, but a drawing room is not meant to scream at a visitor. It is supposed to be serene and peaceful, and I think that colours such as green and white and pale blue are very good at that.”
“Perhaps we can agree on a few details in bolder colours?”
“Madam, this is your home.Wedon’t have to agree on anything. Put as many purple items in it as you wish,” Stevenson said kindly.
“But we all live here,” Elizabeth said, suddenly uncomfortable. “I would like everyone to consider it beautiful.”
Stevenson didn’t succeed in hiding his smile this time. “I’m certain none of the staff will have problems with any of the changes you make.”
Lizzie smiled back gratefully. “Good.”
*
“And as you can see,” Stevenson said as they finished up in the large dining room, “there is space for entertaining all the guests your heart desires.”
“I don’t think there will be much need for that,” Elizabeth replied without thinking, then immediately regretted it. “How do you feel about being back in London?”
“Norwich is home,” he shrugged without acknowledging her earlier comment, which she was deeply grateful for.
“The Duke told me you two grew up together,” she said conversationally.
The valet nodded. “I grew up in Norwich, and when I returned from the war, I started working for His Grace.”
Lizzie frowned. “The war ended only five years ago. You two seem like you have worked together for decades.”
Stevenson smiled in a way she couldn’t interpret. “In a way, we have. His Grace is very loyal to those loyal to him,” he concluded.
Once again, Elizabeth was struck by how her husband had hand-picked everyone and everything in his life, and how all those individual pieces fit perfectly into the larger picture of Colin's life.
“He really has an eye for people, doesn’t he?” She smiled.
“Who does?” Her husband asked as he approached them with long strides. “Thank you, Stevenson, I shall take over now.”
The valet nodded and, with a bow to Lizzie, left. She found it interesting how he seemed to portion out his words only when absolutely necessary.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She teased her husband. “All done with your letters?”
He ran his hand through his hair tiredly. “Finally, yes. They want to hold the vote on the anniversary of Princess Charlotte’s death. It’s utterly distasteful, but I fear they might get their way.”
“That poor woman,” Lizzie said compassionately.
“Let us not talk more of that now. What has Stevenson shown you so far?”
As they walked and talked, and her husband told her more about the rainwater collection system and the pipes and the water closets he was so inordinately proud of, Elizabeth’s mind kept going back to her husband’s hiring methods.
She realised that she had never learned any practical things about her brother’s life or their ancestral estate, nor did sheknow how the people working for Nicholas came to be in his employ.
