Darrius returned his attention to his mother and her companion. “—then we came back, and had the most wonderful tea. I had been craving fresh fruit, even though it was not in season yet. Those strawberries out of the hothouse were absolutely the best I have ever eaten, before or since.”
“We have our own hothouse now, Mother,” Darrius put in. “Father took great pride in it. I believe the strawberries are in full flower now, the first ripe berries picked, and it will not be long before we shall be able to have all the strawberries and cream we wish to eat without sending out for them.”
“Truly?” The Dowager turned her gaze upon her son, and smiled at him fondly. “You will remember to have some sent here?”
“Of course I will,” Darrius promised. “How could I not when you love them so? But I will own that with the new wing, while it is somewhat crass to say so, sales of our surplus will do well toward shoring up supplies for spring planting.”
“That is splendid,” Her Grace exclaimed, a half beat late. Darrius could see that her eyes were glazing over with the early warning signs of boredom. Father had always been the one to take interest in the estate’s accounts. He had been wont to remark that while many gentlemen eschewed dirtying their hands with details of the estate, there was satisfaction in seeing a place well run and producing a profit.
The companion, apparently sensing a familial breech of accord, leaped into the widening silence. “Indeed it is, Your Grace. Does the estate derive a great deal of its income from sales of produce from the hothouses?” Clearly Mrs. Swinton, having been raised in a shop-keeping family, felt no compunction about discussing finances.
“Not an extensive amount,” Darrius replied, pleased to have the discussion turned toward his interests. “We make far more from rents and from the sale of lamb's wool. But it adds a little to our coffers. More importantly, the hothouses add a great deal to the variety of foods available to our tables.”
“Lamb’s wool,” Mrs. Swinton mused. “I used to knit. I wonder if I might be able to purchase some from your herdsman for my own amusement?”
“Why, we shall do better than that,” Darrius beamed at her. “I will have him send down a fleece. I believe that they have just been washed and are being made ready for market.”
“You are very kind,” Mrs. Swinton replied, dropping her eyes modestly. “But it might take me some time to work up that much.”
“Think nothing of it,” Darrius waved his left hand as if brushing away flies. “Consider it a bonus for your excellent work here. Some of the maids can help you with the carding or whatever. You make Mother happy, so I am glad to assist with your amusement. Just do not let it become so much of a burden that you neglect your duties.”
“I would not dream of it,” Mrs. Swinton’s face came up, her eyes widening in shock. “That would be extremely unkind of me, especially since it is through your good offices that the wool would be made available to me.”
The Duchess intervened. “Have no fear, Darrius. I am far more likely to have to encourage her to take her half day off. I have never had such a person in my service. She is always writing letters, reading to me, or making small things to add to my comfort or to entertain me. It has surely been our good fortune to have such an industrious angel come to be with me.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Darrius said. “She did come highly recommended, and by the physician who attended her husband, no less.”
“And why should he not?” his mother said with some vigor. “It is not every wife who will stay by the side of a consumptive right until the end. Although I do hope that Mrs. Swinton’s duties here are much lighter since I am not an invalid.”
Mrs. Swinton blushed and dropped her eyes, clearly embarrassed to be the topic of conversation.
“There now, you need not color up, my dear,” the Duchess said. “You know that it is no more than the truth and I would speak it behind your back as readily as before your face. I do wish we had some of those berries here today. All this talk has made me quite hungry.”
“I had some sent down to the kitchens just this morning, along with several other fine edibles,” Darrius soothed. “No doubt the cook will have something made up to go with your dinner.”
“That is my good son,” the Duchess smiled with delight. “Come here and let me give you a hug.”
“A fitting end to my visit,” the Duke returned, rising from his seat.
He went over, leaned down, and kissed his mother on the cheek.
She patted his cheek gently, then wiped at an imaginary smudge on her son’s face. “You are my very dearest boy. Must you go so soon?”
“If I am to return here for dinner, I must,” he replied. “Perhaps I should stay over, and have breakfast with you as well.” His words were addressed to his mother, but his eyes were upon the companion.
“That would be lovely,” the Duchess said fondly. “Your intended will be paying a visit next week. Do you think the strawberries will hold until then?”
“I think they will be at their finest,” Darrius replied. “I shall quite look forward to seeing Blanche.”
“Then I will alert the cook. He does the finest things with the simplest ingredients. I can hardly wait to see what he might do with strawberries.”
“Do not plan anything overly grand,” Darrius cautioned his mother. “Remember, Blanche has a delicate appetite.” Blanche was slender to the point of emaciation, narrow-hipped and small-breasted, and possessed of a nervous disposition. Although they had known each other since childhood, and had always been aware that they were destined to wed, Darrius found that she was not always the easiest person to please.
“Oh, but no doubt her parents will visit also. Lord Carletane will more than make up for Blanche’s bird-like picking. Her mother also has an appreciation of excellent food.”
Darrius plastered a smile upon his face and replied, “Why, so they do, and, yes, they are likely to visit with her.”
How my father ever became friends with Carletane I shall never know. He is an abominable toadeater, and has the most encroaching ways. One good thing about this marriage is that I believe Blanche will be grateful to get away from her parents, and therefore perhaps be compliant to my desires.