“This is Mrs. Simpson, our housekeeper and cook.”
Harry smiled and held out her hand. “I met you before when I came to dinner.”
“Please call me Clara, Lady Lichfield.”
“I will call you Clara, if you will call me Lady Harry.”
Thomas lifted a bag from the doorstep. “You can meet the rest of the staff later. I know you want to go upstairs and change your traveling clothes.”
“Lady Lichfield . . . I mean the Dowager Lady Lichfield left a letter for you.” Clara handed it to Harry. “She took her lady’s maid with her on her travels.”
“That’s all right. I can manage without a maid.”
As they ascended the staircase, Thomas explained, “The layout is much the same as Hampden House, though we don’t have a ballroom.
The kitchen and servants’ quarters are on the main floor, the drawing room, dining room, library, etcetera are on the second floor, and the bedchambers and bathroom are up on the third.”
They stopped on the second floor so Harry could view the rooms. “Oh, lovely, there is a cozy breakfast room that lets in the morning sun.”
“And this chamber is a private sitting room. It’s less formal than the drawing room.”
Thomas led the way to the third floor and opened his bedchamber door.
She stepped inside and gazed about. “Because there is no ballroom, the bedchambers are spacious. You have marvelous taste, Thomas.”
He set down the bag and cupped her face. “In women as well as furnishings. I want you to feel free to change anything you like. Not just in here, but in the whole place. It is your house now.”
“I won’t change anything in here. I like it just the way it is.” The curtains and bed hangings were royal blue velvet. The wardrobe and tall bureaus were polished red mahogany. The deep-piled Turkish carpet was patterned in vivid red, gold, and blue. “We even have a fireplace to keep us warm on winter nights.”
“I’ll keep you warm on winter nights.”
“I shall hold you to that promise, you wicked devil.”
“There’s a small dressing room through that door that will accommodate your substantial wardrobe. It has an adjoining door that leads to the bathroom.”
“How convenient. This is such a lovely big house for just the two of us. I’m used to sharing with a horde of brothers and sisters. I shall enjoy our privacy.” Harry opened the letter from her husband’s mother. “She’s gone to visit your sisters before she travels to Wales. She apologizes for taking her maid, but thinks it best I choose my own. She wishes us every happiness.” She handed the letter to Thomas.
“She’s very generous and selfless. The house is now mine, though the furnishings are hers. But she prefers to leave it intact for our convenience.”
“I’m amazed she took nothing with her except her maid. I shall pay a visit on Mother tomorrow and steal away one of her servants.”
“I should take my seat in the Lords tomorrow. I’ll have a lot of catching up to do.”
“If you have no objection, I shall attend the women’s rights meeting at Langham Place on Friday. Since I’m now a married woman, I can go in the evening.”
He hid his amusement. “I have no objection, but even if I did, I warrant you would do exactly as you wished.”
“After only a fortnight of marriage, you know me so well.”
“I’ve known you since we met at the opening of the Crystal Palace in June.”
“Not in the biblical sense,” she teased.
“Think of all the months I wasted.”
His words thrilled her, and she sighed happily. “I can’t believe it’s October. The winter social Season is upon us, and Christmas will be here before we know it.”
“Harry, there will be times you’ll have to attend social functions without me. I am not a member of the idle rich. I have to earn my money.”
“That’s the price I have to pay for marrying a ruthless businessman.” She laughed. “We’ll be kept so busy until the year ends; then suddenly it will be spring and we can return to our beloved Shugborough.” She turned her back so that he could unfasten her traveling dress. “Do you suppose I have time to take a bath before dinner?”
“There might be time if you allow me to help.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she purred. Then her eyes sparkled with mischief. “You can start by running my water.”
He swung her up into his arms and bit her ear. “You need your arse tanned.”
“Harry, darling, you look so happy.” Her mother embraced her. “I don’t need to ask if you enjoyed being at Shugborough. You’ve coveted the place since you were a child.”
“Being there was a dream come true. When Riley arrived with the books and paintings, Thomas and I had the time of our lives restoring them to their rightful places. It was extremely generous of you and Father.”
Beatrix, with their sister Jane in tow, arrived in the drawing room. “Oh, Harry, it is so good to see you. D’Arcy and I just returned to London. Congratulations on your marriage! Did you thoroughly enjoy your honeymoon?”
“It was wonderful. Thomas managed to restore almost all of Shugborough’s classic statues. Now if we could just learn who owns the pair of black marble centaurs so we could get them back, it would be perfect.”
“What on earth are centaurs?” Trixy asked.
“Mythical creatures that are half man and half horse.”
“They sound hideous to me. My honeymoon at Lambton Castle was divine. We hosted the annual pheasant shoot, and in return we received so many invitations we couldn’t keep up with them. Then D’Arcy got the official news that he had been appointed lord lieutenant of Durham. We threw a huge party to celebrate, and I was the belle of the ball. I absolutely adore being the Countess of Durham!”
“The role suits you well, Trixy. Congratulations on your husband’s appointment. Being the wife of the lord lieutenant carries a great deal of prestige and responsibility. Why don’t you come with me to Langham Place Friday night to the women’s rights meeting?” Harry invited. “I’m going to join the Married Women’s Property Committee, and I think you should join too.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Trixy asked.
“We want to get a law passed that married women can own property. You may be a wealthy countess and live in a castle, but you cannot own a stick or a stone in your own right. Even if your husband were generous enough to give you property, it would have to be held in trust for you. For the sake of any daughters you may have, you should help us get the law changed.” Harry added an incentive. “As the Countess of Durham and the lord lieutenant’s wife, your name will carry a great deal of weight and have a profound influence.”
“I’ll think on it. If I have no social obligations on Friday evening, I may join you.”
Harry hid her satisfaction, but she saw the knowing look on her mother’s face. Not much escapes the shrewd Duchess of Abercorn.
“I must dash,” Trixy declared. “I have an appointment to be fitted for some new gowns this afternoon. The winter Season is upon us, and I intend to be a lady of fashion. It’s so much fun having a great deal of money to spend.”
When Beatrix left, the duchess glanced at Harry with speculation. “I warrant the first thing you’ll do is manipulate her into donating an obscene amount of money to the Widows and Orphans Fund of Durham.”
“Persuade her, perhaps.” Harry’s eyes sparkled. “Never manipulate .”
Jane laughed. “I’ve missed you. With you and Trixy married, and James away at Oxford, I have no one to amuse me. Will you invite me to dinner one evening and give me the grand tour of St. James’s Square?”
“You are most welcome anytime.” She gave Jane a knowing wink. “Perhaps I’ll persuade Thomas to invite one of his bachelor friends. That should amuse you.”
“Oh, thank you, Harry. Your powers of persuasion are formidable.”
“Next Wednesday,” the duchess decided, “we’ll have a family dinne
r with my married daughters and their charming husbands. Perhaps that will persuade Abercorn to spend the night at home rather than the palace.”
“Your powers of manipulation are far superior to mine,” Harry teased. “Oh, while we are on the subject of manipulation, Mother, I have a favor to ask. You have such a large staff; could you let me have one of your maids?”
“That depends on who you have in mind.”
“It’s Rose, of course. We get along so well.”
“You may ask her, but the decision must be Rose’s.”
“Thank you. I’ll go and ask her now.”
Harry found Rose in the nursery, helping Mary, one of the nursemaids. She was sewing on buttons that had come off the children’s winter clothes.
“Hello, Rose. How would you feel about moving to St. James’s Square as my personal lady’s maid?”
She jumped up and curtsied. “Lady Harriet—I mean Lady Lichfield—I’ve no training as a lady’s maid.”
“Call me Harry. You are perfectly capable of looking after my clothes, helping me dress, and going about London with me, but if you’d rather stay at Hampden House, I will understand.”
“I’d love to come, Lady Harry,” she said breathlessly. “It’s just that Lady Abercorn gives my family the clothes that her children outgrow, and she gives me food to take home on Saturdays.”
“I promise you’ll still get the clothes, and you can go home every Saturday, and not empty-handed. Is there anything else that concerns you?”
“Well . . . Lord Anson—I mean the Earl of Lichfield—is . . .” Rose hesitated.
“Dark, dominant, and rather intimidating?”
“Well, yes.”
Harry laughed. “He can be sober and straitlaced. That’s why I need you as an ally, Rose. He wouldn’t dare beat me with you there to defend me.”
Rose giggled, and then she sobered. “What will your mother say?”
“I already asked her. Though she will be loath to lose you, she said that the decision is yours.”
“Then yes, I’d love to come and be lady’s maid to the Countess of Lichfield.”
“Wonderful! Put those buttons down and I’ll help you to pack.”
October and November flew by, filled with family dinners, social invitations, and visits to the theater. Harry went with her family on the nights her husband was occupied with business, and she cherished the evenings they spent at home together.
After dinner, Thomas usually spent time at his desk in the library working on accounts connected with Shugborough and his business ventures. He often had piles of letters and paperwork to attend to. But at precisely ten o’clock, Harry always took a jug of ale and joined him in the library. Before she had poured his drink, his full attention was riveted on his beautiful wife and the paperwork was forgotten.
“I love this nightly ritual where you lure me from my work and lead me into temptation.”
“I like to share your ale.” She drank from his mug, and between mouthfuls she lifted her lips for his kisses.
“You intoxicate me,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to carry you upstairs.”
“You wouldn’t have to wait if your desk wasn’t always so cluttered,” she teased.
He slanted a dark eyebrow. “There’s always the floor.”
“You have no shame. Besides, I much prefer the carpet in our bedroom.”
He didn’t give her time to finish the ale. He swept her into his arms, held her high against his heart, and carried her up to their private sanctuary.
As promised, Harry took Trixy to the Langham Place women’s rights meeting, and when they learned that she was the Countess of Durham, they shrewdly put her in charge of the Widows and Orphans Fund. The suffragists were masters of manipulation, and by means of flattery and deference soon had Beatrix Lambton doing their bidding. To Harry’s delight, Trixy was convinced the committees couldn’t manage without her, and she attended the Friday night meetings regularly.
Harry and Thomas dined early on the last Friday in November. “I’m amazed D’Arcy approves of his wife’s visits to Langham Place.”
Harry laughed. “Don’t be silly, darling. Trixy doesn’t tell him where she goes—he only knows she’s with me. They don’t live in each other’s pocket. She says D’Arcy is out late most nights.”
“I’m guilty in that respect too, lately, but at least I’m out on business. I’m happy you are occupied on Fridays. It gives me the opportunity to meet with various nobles who own furnishings and artifacts that once belonged to Shugborough. It’s amazing how many of them are in the Lords. Word is out that I’m restoring the hall and I get tips every week. Tonight I’m meeting with Fritz, Earl Spencer. He bought some of our furniture for Althorp. Don’t wait up for me, darling.”
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could trace who bought the black marble centaurs?”
“I’ll find out one of these days. You can rely on it.”
His dark features were so deadly serious and his tone so resolute, she shivered.
The first week of December was taken up with plans for Christmas. The Duke and Duchess of Abercorn decided they would invite the whole family to their Campden Hill estate in Kensington, and Harry was looking forward to seeing Uncle John and Fanny.
The post brought many social invitations to St. James’s Square, and Harry was sorting through a dozen envelopes that had just been delivered. A letter addressed to Harriet Anson, Countess of Lichfield, that displayed no return address caught her attention and she carried it up to her private sitting room. She sat down, opened it, and read:
I have information that the late Earl of Lichfield had his attorney change his Last Will and Testament to disinherit his son and heir unless certain conditions were met with regard to marriage.
I would advise you to keep this letter confidential. If you do so, another will follow, indicating a time and place where this information may be passed on to you.
Harry’s brows drew together, and a frisson of apprehension made her shudder. The letter itself was highly disturbing. I’ll show it to Thomas when he comes home. He must know what this is all about and will explain it to me.
She read the letter again, carefully, and the warning to keep it confidential jumped out at her. It has something to do with our marriage. If I want to learn more, I must keep quiet. She decided not to say anything to Thomas until she received the next letter. She put the note back in the envelope and secreted it in her sitting room’s writing desk.
That night at dinner, she waited until dessert was served, then asked casually, “What is the name of your attorney, Thomas?”
“You met him when we returned to London. Have you already forgotten? His name is Simon Kendall.”
“Yes, now I remember. Was he your father’s attorney?”
“Absolutely not. I cut all ties with the last law firm. Why do you ask?”
“Frances Cobbe at Langham Place asked if anyone could recommend an attorney.”
Harry was immediately covered with guilt at the deliberate lie and changed the subject.
Some time after dinner, she made her way to the kitchen to tell Cook which nights they would be out and which they would be dining at home.
“Clara, do you know the name of the Ansons’ last attorney?”
Clara rolled her eyes. “Martin Fowler. He was a dreadful man—spent more time here than the doctor. Her ladyship couldn’t abide him.”
“Then thank goodness we are well rid of him,” she declared. “We’ll only be dining at home on Thursday next week. You can have some time off if you like.”
“Thank you, Lady Harry. I shall go and visit my sister.”
The following morning, after a restless night plagued with worry, Harry retrieved the envelope from the writing desk and read it again. She was convinced that it came from Martin Fowler’s law office, and was determined to learn the address and beard the lion in his den. She weighed whether to take Rose along and then decided against it.
“Rose, we a
re invited to Montagu House tonight and everyone will be dressed to the nines. I’ve decided to wear my jade velvet. Will you lay out my corset and a starched petticoat? I have matching shoes and fan somewhere in the dressing room.”
“Don’t worry, Lady Harry. I’ll find everything you need.”
“I have to go out. I should be back by early afternoon.”
Harry took a hackney to the law district and got out at Chancery Lane. She entered the first law office she came to and made inquiries. She learned that Martin Fowler’s office was in a building on Cursitor Street.
After much searching, she found a soot-blackened building bearing a sign that read FOWLER, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Harry gathered her courage, raised her chin, and entered the offices. The smell of musty books assailed her nostrils. She assumed the thin young fellow with ink-stained hands, wearing wire-rimmed spectacles, was a clerk.
He looked at her agog. “Can I help you, my lady?”
“Yes. Kindly inform Martin Fowler that there is a lady here to see him.”
The fellow disappeared through a door and after a few minutes that seemed like an hour to Harry, he returned. “I will make an appointment for you, my lady.”
She tossed her head. “Appointment indeed!” She swept past the clerk, threw open the inner door, and entered the office. She stared at the man behind the desk. He is malevolent—I mustn’t underestimate him. “I’m here to see Martin Fowler.” She reached into her reticule, pulled out the letter, and slapped it down before him.
He read the name on the envelope. “Lady Lichfield?”
“You know who I am, and you know what the letter says, since you wrote it.”
“Won’t you have a seat, Lady Lichfield?”
She picked up the letter and sat down, covering her apprehension with an air of assumed confidence. She composed her features and braced herself to hear the revelation. No matter what the wretched man says, I must not let him see my reaction.
“Since your intelligence is obvious, I will dispense with subterfuge. When the Earl of Lichfield engaged me as his attorney-at-law, I enjoyed his full confidence and became privy to his wishes regarding his estate.”