Emma Darcy - Australia - In Bed with Her Groom

Since there seemed to be no wrong in accepting him into the house as her butler, at least on a temporary basis, Ashley made her decision with a clear conscience and an exciting sense of adventure. Having a butler would undoubtedly be an interesting and novel experience. When the butler was Cliffton, well, who knew what might happen?

She smiled. ‘Is there anything you wish to settle with me before bringing in your luggage?’

He smiled back. ‘I believe we’ve covered everything of present importance, Mrs. Harcourt.’

Ashley could feel his satisfaction and was highly conscious of her own. A two-way street, she thought with growing pleasure.

‘Then welcome to our home, Cliffton.’

‘Thank you, Mrs. Harcourt.’

How that name grated on Ashley’s ears!

‘Please be assured I will serve you as best I can until everything is resolved,’ he continued.

Happily, she hoped.

‘In the meantime, I shall go and survey the sleeping quarters and come to an accommodation with William.’

Ashley came to another decision. ‘There is one other thing. In Australia it’s quite customary for both employer and employee to call each other by their first names. I’m not even your employer. And since we’ll be living in constant proximity, I think it would be more appropriate if I call you Harry and you call me Ashley. It won’t, uh, interfere with your duties, and I’ll feel more comfortable with it. If you don’t mind.’

‘Your comfort is my duty,’ he replied, giving her a dazzling smile. ‘Ashley it is.’

‘Thank you, Harry.’

‘My pleasure.’

He left her to savour her pleasure, and it was very warm, warmer than anything Ashley had felt for a long, long time.

NO SOONER HAD William’s friends scattered home for their evening meal than Ashley was faced with some of the wider consequences of accepting Harry into her household.

The telephone rang.

Ashley was slow in answering the call. Harry had insisted on preparing dinner, and William, most uncharacteristically, was helping him. She had slipped upstairs to change out of her business suit and freshen up generally for the evening ahead. By the time she emerged from the bathroom and picked up the receiver in her bedroom, Harry was already on the kitchen extension.

‘The Harcourt residence. May I enquire who’s calling, please?’

Ashley held her tongue, curious to know how Harry would deal with the caller.

‘It’s Olivia Stanton. Dylan’s mother.’

Ashley grimaced. Olivia was the president of the Parents’ and Citizens’ Association at William’s school, and she had a habit of minding everybody else’s business. Her snippy tone indicated a complaint was about to be voiced.

‘How do you do, Mrs. Stanton?’ Harry’s English accent suddenly developed a very plummy tone. ‘How may I help you?’

A slight pause. ‘To whom am I speaking?’

‘My name is Cliffton. I am Mrs. Harcourt’s butler.’

‘Butler!’

Her astonishment was unmistakable. A butler was a most uncommon personage in Australia, let alone in the Central Coast area of Wamberal. Probably the prime minister or the governor-general had one for official receptions, but Ashley couldn’t even vouch for that.

‘Did you say butler?’

Olivia Stanton was clearly rocked off her set course.

‘I did, Mrs. Stanton.’

‘What is Ashley Harcourt doing with a butler? I didn’t know she could afford one.’

The rhetorical question, followed by the comment on her financial position, made Ashley realise that Harry’s arrival in her life would give rise to enormous speculation and gossip in the neighbourhood. It was a measure of her enthralment with Harry that Ashley found she wasn’t overly troubled by this prospect. Let them say what they liked. And they’d certainly do that when they saw him! Her course was set. She was going to keep the butler, no matter what!

‘I believe my services are of value, Mrs. Stanton,’ Harry answered silkily.

‘Well, it is unusual.’ Olivia justified her rudeness.

‘Perhaps it will start a fashion, Mrs. Stanton. Mrs. Harcourt does run an employment agency.’

Ashley grinned. That was a clever stroke.

‘Are you connected to the Rolls Royce that’s involved in these outrageous photographs?’

Ashley rolled her eyes, knowing full well that another of William’s schemes was coming home to roost.

‘It comes with me, Mrs. Stanton,’ Harry answered smoothly.

He had solved the problem of accommodating the chauffeur and getting the car off the street by sending them both to a local motel. He dismissed the cost as though it was nothing, assuring Ashley once again that she would not be held financially liable for what he did in pursuit of a successful outcome to his mission.

And the mission had been verified. Harry had shown her the branch of Roger’s family tree that had originated from England. It was amazing that so many people had died off, leaving only William as the last of this specific blood line.

‘Do you know what use William made of your car this afternoon?’ Olivia demanded testily.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Are you aware that he is charging ten dollars for the photographs he took?’

‘As I understand it, there is no obligation to buy, Mrs. Stanton. If you can’t afford the price—’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘The boys were very happy about the chance of being photographed at the wheel of a Rolls Royce, but if you want Dylan to be unhappy—’

‘I didn’t say that, either.’

‘A once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, Mrs. Stanton, is not something to be belittled. You are, of course, entitled to disagree. I believe William can bear the cost of Dylan being left out of the photo-graphs—’

‘I don’t want him left out,’ Olivia cried, drowning in the string of logic that had flowed from Harry’s silver tongue.

‘Of course not, Mrs. Stanton. No mother would want her son left out of something so special. Shall I tell William to put Dylan’s photograph in the sold pile?’

A died-in-the-wool accomplice, Ashley thought, bemused and amused by his dexterity in handling the most difficult people.

‘Yes,’ Olivia surrendered weakly.

‘Thank you, Mrs. Stanton. Is there anything else? A message for Mrs. Harcourt?’

‘No.’

‘Then thank you for calling, Mrs. Stanton.’

Killed off with politeness, Ashley thought, as she heard the line disconnect. On the other hand, Olivia was probably dying to get a free line so she could spread the news of Ashley’s acquisition of a butler who came with a chauffeured Rolls Royce. It would certainly add a bit of spice to her reputation as a businesswoman.

Fortunately it was no longer a scandalous matter for a man and woman to be living under the same roof together without benefit of marriage. Ashley had no doubt that most of her friends and acquaintances would take the attitude, ‘Good luck to you!’ while they tried to stifle their envy.

However, she did need to warn Harry not to say anything about their connection to Springfield Manor. That was their private business. Apart from which, it would spoil everything. She didn’t want to think about it herself. She simply wanted to enjoy having Harry fix things for her as he’d been doing so beautifully ever since he had arrived.

As on most January days, the heat of summer lingered long into the evening. Ashley zipped herself into her favourite sundress. It was casual enough not to look too dressed up. The polished cotton was cool and the pretty pink and green floral print suited her colouring. The bodice was fitted, with shoestring straps over her shoulders. The full circular skirt always made her feel feminine.