ANNE ASHLEY - Miss In A Man's World

‘Were you truly in earnest when you declared you were in need of a servant, my lord?’ she asked, before sampling her wine in a very ladylike manner.

‘I should not otherwise have said so, child. But before we come to any firm arrangement, I shall need to know a little more about you. Firstly, from whom did you acquire an education?’

There was no mistaking the mischievous little smile before she said, ‘From the former rector of our parish, sir. My mother was his cook-housekeeper for a number of years, and—and he had a fondness for me.’

‘And your father?’

‘I never knew him, and he never knew of my existence. He was a soldier, sir, and died in the service of his country shortly after I was born.’

Studying her above the rim of his glass, his lordship considered what she had revealed thus far. She might well have told him the absolute truth. But it was also possible that if she was indeed the bastard daughter of some person of standing, her mother might well have spun the yarn about a deceased father in order to maintain the appearance of respectability. Undeniably the girl had a quiet dignity that was not feigned, and that certainly suggested she believed her parentage to be above reproach. Which made lending herself to such a start even more surprising!

Deciding to refrain from questioning her further for the present, he said, ‘I am satisfied you could perform the duties of a page. If you should choose to avail yourself of the position, I shall have a new set of clothes made for you on the morrow.’

She betrayed no sign whatsoever of being delighted by the offer. In fact, if anything, there was a hint of mistrust as she asked, ‘But why should you require a page, sir? Are you married?’

‘And what has that to say to anything, pray?’ He cast her a look of exasperation. ‘No, I am not, as it happens. Why do you ask?’

There was a suspicion of a twitch at the side of the perfectly shaped mouth again. ‘Well, because it’s usually ladies who engage pages, sir.’

‘Not always,’ he countered, and then smiled grimly. ‘And that is one of the reasons why I’m prepared to engage your services. I feel the most overwhelming desire to annoy a certain acquaintance of mine. He shall find it quite irksome when he sets eyes on you for the first time.’

‘Shall he, my lord?’

‘Most definitely, child! And now you may begin your duties by tugging the bell-pull, there, by the hearth.’

Taking her immediate compliance to his request to mean that she had accepted the post, he sat quietly, considering his latest responsibility until the summons was answered, and then turned his attention to his major-domo.

‘The child you see before you, Brindle, is my new page.’

Not even by so much as a slight raising of one greying brow did the butler betray surprise, even though there had never been a page employed in the household for as long as he had been in service with the family.

‘Is there a spare room in the servants’ quarters?’

‘Not one that isn’t presently occupied or used for storage, my lord. He could share with the boots for tonight, I suppose, or perhaps it would be best if he doubled up with James, the footman. His room is slightly larger.’

The Viscount frowned heavily. ‘No. For the time being he may use the small room my niece occupies when she stays here.’ Once again he looked directly up at his butler. ‘Now, pay attention, Brindle. Tomorrow, I wish you to take the boy out and buy him a new set of clothes, and whatever other little necessities he might need. In the meantime he is to be fed and you are to arrange for a hipbath to be taken up to his room, where you are to leave him until he rings for it to be taken away. Is that understood? He is also to have his supper up there on a tray. Do not rouse him in the morning. I dare say he is possessed of wits enough to find his own way down to the kitchen.’

‘Very good, my lord. Will there be anything else?’

‘Yes, you may allow Ronan to bear me company for the rest of the evening.’

His lordship acknowledged with a mere nod of his head the shyly spoken ‘goodnight’ from his latest employee. So deep in thought did he quickly become that he was hardly aware when the door opened softly a few minutes later; it was only when his favourite hunting dog came gambolling across the library towards him that he came out of his brown study long enough to return the affectionate greeting with a pat.

‘Am I being foolish beyond measure even to consider housing the chit, Ronan?’ Lord Fincham murmured, his mind having quickly returned to the enigma besetting him at the present time. ‘After all, she is nothing to me.’

The dog, now happily settled on the carpet at his master’s feet, merely cocked an ear, while his lordship smiled grimly. ‘It cannot be denied, though, the minx has certainly succeeded in pricking my conscience. No mean feat, old fellow, I can tell you! But am I being foolish to give her the benefit of the doubt?’ He considered for a moment, before acknowledging aloud, ‘I did the same over you, of course, some three years ago, when the gamekeeper assured me you’d never make a decent gun dog. You have more than repaid my belief in you. Will she do the same, I wonder?’

His lordship gazed down lazily at his favourite dog. ‘It will be interesting to see how you react to the boygirl who will be sleeping in my niece’s bed. After all, you are not overly fond of many people, are you, boy? But, firstly, I must satisfy myself that she is indeed the innocent she appears to be. No doubt some scheme to do precisely that shall occur to me before the morrow. Yes, I shall use the night hours to consider.

‘Then we shall see ‘

It was Lord Fincham’s custom to rise late in the mornings when residing in town and the following day proved no exception. Every member of his household, not least of which was his personal valet, was awake to his lordship’s every desire and need. Consequently, his hipbath awaited him in the dressing room the instant he had broken his fast and had risen from the large four-poster in the master bedchamber.

Unlike so many of his contemporaries, his lordship had always been a champion of personal hygiene. Eschewing the use of strong perfumes in order to mask unpleasant odours, he had always bathed regularly, something which was becoming increasingly popular since the arrival of that astute arbiter of good taste, George Bryan Brummell, on the London scene a couple of years or so before.

The Beau had set a fashion in gentleman’s attire that many of the younger members in society had quickly attempted to ape—with varying degrees of success, it had to be said. Perhaps because he was so resolute and too discerning a gentleman to be influenced by the latest affectations, Lord Fincham had yet to adopt the less flamboyant styles of dress advocated by Brummell.

He continued to wear silks, velvets and brocades, and an abundance of lace. His wardrobe boasted many fine coats in a range of vibrant colours and in richly embroidered materials. He favoured, still, knee-breeches, and his hair remained long and tied back at the nape of his neck with a length of black velvet ribbon.

In fact, it was only his lordship’s hair that had ever caused his pernickety valet the least consternation. Not once in the eight years he had served the Viscount had Napes had recourse to a powder box. Nor had he ever persuaded his master to don a wig. In every other respect, however, Napes could find no fault with his lordship, and was secretly so very proud to have the dressing of a physique that was truly without flaw. Shoulders, chest and waist were perfectly proportioned and long legs were so straight and well muscled that no artificial aids to correct the tiniest defect had ever been employed.