“But I am paid nothing for the work I do for you or in the kitchen.”
Now Judith was agitated. “Well, I cannot do without you. There can be no thought of a letter. We will just need to work something out. Speak to the Duke. He handles all these matters.”
“Then you refuse to write a letter for me?”
Judith picked up Isabell and hugged her. “I do not know. Talk to me again after the ball. There is too much going on right now for me to even think about such matters.”
“Very well, Your Grace.”
* * *
As George and his father were saddling their horses for a ride to the ten-acre field for an inspection, George found himself studying his father, who, he noticed, did not bound onto the saddle with the vigor he used to. He also noticed that his father’s shoulders were beginning to stoop. And it made him realize that he would soon need to be taking more of the burden on himself in running the estate. It did not sit well with him—especially now when his London gallery was planning a major exhibition of his work. It was only recently he had received a letter from the National Gallery of Art asking to purchase several of his paintings for its permanent exhibition. He was rapidly becoming established as a major London artist, and he did not want to slow the momentum.
“Father, what do you make of this blasted ball?” George asked as they rode out of the stable toward the field.
His father gave a sour look and said, “Your mother frets so over your sisters. Not a single marriage and the poor old girls are getting a bit long in the tooth, if you get my point.”
George chuckled, but he also knew it would be putting more pressure on him to find a wife. “But Ann… well, she is my sister, and I love her dearly, but she is not what one might call a catch any longer—even with three thousand a year.”
“Unfortunately, she also has a rather sour temperament. Before you know it, she will be donning a matron’s cap and start reading stories to other folks’ children.”
“Perhaps a career would suit her. She is so idle.”
“Try telling her that,” Matthew said as he spurred his horse into a gallop.
George spurred his horse as well and they began a race to the field.
Chapter 15
The day of the ball turned out to be perfect. There had been a few nights when there was frost, but the days were comfortably warm with a bright blue sky and fair weather.
There were to be about seventy-five guests, with the dancing beginning at seven, then a nine o’clock sit-down supper and ending the evening with more dancing. It was anticipated that the ball would not end until well after midnight.
Lucy had never seen such a great deal of activity in the house. Extra staff had been brought in to help with the service. The ballroom and dining room had been outfitted with eight-hour candles and the most stunning arrangements of flowers—especially prepared and brought in from one of the top florists in Shaftsbury.
They even hired two orchestras, one to play formal dances, and the other to play country dances, as they had a diverse guest list and wanted to have something for everybody.
The kitchen staff had been doubled, and poor Mrs. Mead had not slept properly for three days. All the kitchen tables, sideboards, shelves, and benches were covered in prepared food. Much of it made several days in advance and covered in muslin to keep away the flies.
Lucy really wanted to see the guests arriving, but she was constrained by her duties in the kitchen and would feel lucky if she could steal away for even a few moments after supper to catch a glimpse of the fashionable couples dancing.
But for now, she had her arms deep in a tub of water shucking oysters. This made her even more determined to secure a letter of reference from the Duchess and apply for that job in London. She had had quite enough of this scullery work.
* * *
The Duchess had a knack for being able to pull herself together and become the charming hostess when the occasion required. And this was to be her command performance. Her family depended on it.
Deep in her heart, and much to her sorrow, she was ready to sacrifice Ann to spinsterhood—knowing her difficult disposition—but she would be damned before she gave up on Charlotte and Betsy.
The first guests would be arriving within the next half hour. Judith had gone through the house and inspected every single detail she could think of before she was to be dressed. And now she stood before her mirror, Flossy at her side, examining the final outcome.
“Excellent work, Your Grace,” Flossy said.
“You think so?”
“You have never looked lovelier.”
Judith had to admit, the girl was right.
