“Certainly not,” I agree, attempting to hold back my smile as I remember my evening with Charlotte. “Whenever we are free from the room today will suit.”
Willard nods, and Ella cracks an egg into a pan while Ruby prepares a kettle for tea. I quickly realize one member of the staff is missing.
“Where’s Bess?”
Willard is the one to answer me. “Already up and about the house, sir.”
“I hope she stopped for breakfast first?”
Ella nods. “She did. But you know Bess. Everything must be pristine for our new arrival.”
In other words, Bess is nervous and taking out her energy on the house. Not that I mind, as her position as housemaid is to keep the manor clean and orderly. But I don’t want her overexerting herself.
When Ella finishes with the eggs, she sets them on plates beside the apple tart and a couple spoonfuls each of baked beans. The kettle is added, as well as two cups, and Ruby reaches for the tray.
“Allow me,” I say, picking it up.
Ruby, once again, looks aghast.
I can hear Ella chuckling as I exit the kitchen, using my shoulder to push open the swing door into the pantry and thenanother out into the dining room. I pass by the table and find Bess on my way upstairs. She’s in the drawing room, dusting the same furniture she tackled the day before last.
“Bess,” I say gently.
She wheels around, hand at her chest. The young woman has been at the manor for over four years, but she still startles easily. “Goodness. Can I help you, sir?”
“Arthur is fine,” I remind her, although Ella is the only one who seems comfortable enough to forgo the title when addressing me. I do understand. “Only a reminder that the day is fine and the sun is already shining. Perhaps a stroll in the gardens is in order.”
She blinks at me before some of her tension eases. “Are you requesting I stop to smell the roses?”
“Oh, well, that does sound nice. Don’t you think?”
Bess smiles as I continue on my way toward the stairs. It takes some finagling to open the door into my chamber with my hands overfull, but I manage it at last. Charlotte sits up in bed, holding the sheet high to cover herself. She looks relieved once she sees no one is with me.
“Look at that,” I say lightly, shutting the door behind me. “I stumbled across some breakfast.”
She lets out a soft laugh. “Arthur. Please tell me you didn’t make that tart yourself? If you have, I shall demand you tell me immediately what else I’ve failed to learn about my husband.”
There’s no concealing my grin as I set the tray on the bed, sitting bent-legged beside it. “The tart was not my creation,” I admit. “Nor did I cook the eggs this time. I can, however, whip up a fairly tasty fricassee.”
“You’ve been hiding yourself.” Charlotte’s words are said in good humor, her eyes watching appreciatively as I pour our tea.
“The only surprises will be pleasant ones,” I assure her. Although her comment about hiding does remind me… “Would you like to meet the staff today? There’s no rush, of course. Or we could go for a walk around the gardens. They’re quite plentiful out back.”
“Both, I think. I’d very much like to learn everything about this place.”
I nod, and Charlotte accepts a plate from the tray, tucking the sheet under her arm to hold it in place. It looks difficult for her, the way she’s balancing both tasks in order to eat.
“Charlotte, dear. Would you like a shirt?”
She looks surprised by the offer, but I recognize the hope in her eyes and hop up to grab one in haste. I take her plate once I’m seated back on the bed and hold the opening of the simple cotton shirt in her direction. She slips her arms inside, letting the sheet fall as the garment covers her breasts and stomach. She tucks it around herself with a soft smile, looking immediately comforted.
I breathe a sigh of relief, offering her the plate once more. As Charlotte cuts into her tart, I sip my tea.
She hums before long. “This is lovely. Your cook is very talented.”
“That she is,” I agree, breaking the yolk in my egg before piling a small piece of it with beans onto my fork. “I’m certainly lucky to have her. She’s keen to know your preferences, by the by. I think she’d rather appreciate the chance to try cooking a new dish or two.”
“Then I’ll gladly think on what I may like.” Charlotte’s eyes return to her plate as she asks, “Will I…have a lady’s maid?”
