The Duchess looked stricken, and sank back upon her pillows. Evelyn took her hand and gently patted it. “The Duke will be here for tea today. We can mention it then.”
“Yes, an excellent notion,” the Duchess said, patting her ample chest, as if her hand was simulating the action of her heart. “Do send down to the kitchen, Mrs. Swinton. I feel the need of something restorative.”
“I will go myself,” Evelyn said, hoping that Dr. Alton would take the hint and step out in the hall with her.
“I shall take my leave,” he said, gravely, and followed Evelyn into the hall.
“Is the Duchess in danger?” Evelyn asked immediately.
“It is more excitement than I would have recommended for her. I am deeply sorry to have caused Lady Carletane’s reaction. I’m afraid diplomacy has never been one of my better skills.”
“I can see that,” Evelyn said with wry amusement. “What would you recommend for the Duchess?”
“An apology from the departed lady, but since that is unlikely to happen, a little sweet cider mulled with cinnamon. On no account should she have wine or brandy after such an upset. Indeed, she should not have it at all. If you can get her settled, a quiet afternoon listening to one of those travelogues she so enjoys.”
When Evelyn returned to the room, she found the Duchess drying her eyes.
“Mr. Rudge has made a lovely mulled cider for you, Your Grace. When the Duke comes to visit, we shall be sure tell him what Dr. Alton said. Perhaps he can persuade Miss Notley where we cannot.”
“I wish I had your faith in his powers of persuasion, my dear,” the Duchess smiled wanly. “I love my son, but he is even less diplomatic than Dr. Alton. I appreciate his frank gruffness, but clearly Lady Carletane does not.”
Evelyn plumped the Duchess’ pillows and made her comfortable, then persuaded her to select a favorite book to listen to. But as she read, Evelyn could not help but wonder what could make a woman slowly poison herself for beauty’s sake.
Chapter 21
Mayson rubbed his hand over his face. This was the fifteenth applicant for potboy. All of them had good references and were eager to have the work. But none of them were likely to mesh with the Duchess’ household.
The next candidate was one of the strangest men that Mayson had ever seen. The right side of his face was heavily scarred to such an extent that it was a wonder that he could see out of both eyes. He wore a heavy beard on the left side of his face but the right seemed to be incapable of growing hair. He walked with a pronounced limp. When Mayson could see him fully, he realized it was caused by his having a wooden peg instead of his right foot. He carried his right hand close to his body, as if it had been in a sling for a long time.
“Name’s Pete,” the fellow said. “Pete McElroy. Some calls me Pegleg Pete, which ain’t no more’n fair.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. McElroy,” Mayson said. “It looks as if you have seen some action on the front lines.”
“Saw a bit,” said Mr. McElroy. “Did my service down Africa way.”
“I’m looking for a potboy,” Mayson said. “There are some stringent physical requirements, such as lifting large pots and so on.”
“I’d reckon if I can lift cannon balls and a firing rod, then I can lift a few pots.”
“I do not mean to be rude,” Mayson said, “but you are missing a leg and you are carrying your arm as if it was injured not long ago.”
“Well, as to the leg,” Mr. McElroy said, “I’m afraid that’s permanent like. But the arm is more temporary. I busted it about two months ago working in a warehouse. Got it caught twixt two barrels. I’m pretty well healed up. Saw your ad for a potboy and I figured that pots got to be easier than barrels.”
Mayson laughed. “I suppose I can see your reasoning. Do you read?”
“Enough to get by. I can read a contract mostly, an’ I can sign my own name.”
“Can you figure?”
“There I do shine, mister. I didn’t get your name. How should I address you?”
“You can call me Mr. Rudge,” Mayson said. “I am the head cook.” He nodded toward Jemmy. “You can call him Mr. Jemmy. He is the undercook, and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the staff a little later on. I like your attitude, Mr. McElroy. I’m always willing to go a little out of my way to help someone who has served our country. I’ll take you on as a trial and two weeks from now we will see how it has gone.”
“Fair enough, Mr. Rudge. I promise you will not be sorry,” Mr. McElroy said. “Now, if you’ll just point me to that washing bench, I can get to work right away.”
“Jemmy will take you out to the laundry room to pick up some uniforms, and he will show you the ropes. His promotion to undercook is new. You will be taking his former position.”
“Fair enough,” Mr. McElroy said. “I’ll admit I wouldn’t mind a minute or two to get tidied up. A man ought to look trim on the job.”