Once they arrived at Eastchase Hall, she was introduced to the upper servants; the housekeeper, Mrs. Daniels, a dour-faced woman with small eyes, the butler, Bagwell, a starchy man of indeterminate years, the majordomo, Hopkins, who appeared to be into the wine a bit too much, his breath scented and his cheeks red, and the head gardener, Moseby, whose hands were entirely too clean for a man in his position. Cook was the sole servant who appeared the least bit friendly and helpful. As much as anything, Jane resented the obvious attitude of the others, as if they clearly didn’t need to pay her much attention. She was the duchess, and mistress of Eastchase Hall, but she was most likely doomed to die within a year, so why bother paying her any mind? Or respect?
Jane had been in residence exactly two days when she caught Mrs. Daniels pilfering the wax candles, no doubt intending to sell them and pocket the money. Wax candles were very dear and Jane was beyond incensed. She dismissed the woman on the spot, but Mrs. Daniels refused to leave, saying the duke hired her, and if he wanted her gone, he would say so. Within ten minutes, he did just that, and informed the remainder of the servants that Jane was the mistress of his home, and her word was as his. Nevertheless, Bagwell was openly surly and after he failed to answer her ring from the drawing room the following afternoon, he too was sent packing. When a clearly inebriated Hopkins stumbled and landed in her lap as he attempted to deliver a letter, he was dismissed. That left Moseby, who apparently saw his future a bit more clearly, and of a sudden, he had dirty hands.
She spent the following week interviewing prospective replacements and was pleased with her choices. Blixford noted Mr. and Mrs. Dashing, a lively, portly couple recently out of work due to the death of their longtime employer, were very similar to Hester and Clive at Beckinsale House. She hadn’t noticed, but his observation was spot on, and she wrote to Hester of the new additions to the staff at Eastchase, and that they were missed, evidently even more than Jane realized. She and Mrs. Dashing, with the able assistance of Mr. Dashing, spent a great deal of time preparing an inventory of the house, making a list of items needed for purchase, or repair. She left it to Mr. Dashing to find a replacement majordomo, and within a few days, Geoffrey had joined the ranks. He quickly and adequately rallied the footmen into shape, seeing that their livery was cleaned and repaired, instructing them in proper footman form.
The second week of her stay at Eastchase, she received a letter from Miriam, indicating her direction, a lovely, cozy manor house near to Twykham, in Shropshire. Blixford said he’d purchased the home from Lord Twykham, along with several surrounding acres. Jane was pleased and wrote to Miriam, sending along the wee baby boots she’d purchased in Kent, and expressing her good will and hopes for the safe progress of her pregnancy, reminding her to advise Jane if she required anything at all.
They settled into a routine, as they had at Beckinsale House. They rose early and rode, returned for breakfast, then went about estate business, Jane going along at Blixford’s insistence. She was amazed and impressed at the vastness of Eastchase, and couldn’t help but admire her husband’s evident talent for managing it. The tenants’ respect for him was clear, and the two stewards he employed, Mr. O’Brien and his assistant, Mr. Perkins, were able and competent and obviously thought much of Blixford. He made a point of telling each of them, if he was ever absent and they needed any sort of direction, they were to come to her, for she was knowledgeable and capable. Despite her enduring dislike of him, she was warmed by his praise and confidence.
In the afternoons, she worked about the house with the Dashings while Blixford closeted himself in his study to work on his investments and to read his sheep literature, published monthly by a fellow farmer in Yorkshire. They took dinner early and after a relaxing sojourn in the drawing room, where they read to one another, or played cards, or discussed estate matters, they retired usually by ten o’clock. Sometimes he made love to her, sometimes he simply gathered her close and they drifted off to sleep. He never failed, however, to wake her of a morn with a strong erection and passionate kisses.
It seemed they were biding their time, waiting for word from Wrotham that they could move on to the next part of Blixford’s plan.
She was surprised one night when, as they went off to sleep, he mumbled against her hair, “I love you, Jane. Pleasant dreams.” She did indeed have pleasant dreams, and wondered if he was aware he’d spoken aloud to her. He didn’t repeat it, so she thought perhaps not. He continued to call her love, however –had done so since that horrible day she learned of his betrayal. In fact, his whole manner seemed different, as though he did, most truly, love her. But he never said so.