The Maid of Fairbourne Hall(72)
Fiona gaped at Margaret, brows high. Margaret hoped Fiona didn’t notice her eyebrows, or lack thereof.
In return, Margaret shrugged and gave Fiona a bewildered look. It was no doubt convincing.
For she was bewildered.
Nathaniel took himself back down to the library, whistling as he went.
Helen looked up at him from the novel she was reading. “What has you so happy?”
His only answer was a grin.
Hudson, standing near the library window, gave the old globe on its stand an idle twirl, running his finger along the equator as it spun.
Helen watched him. “How much of the world have you seen, Mr. Hudson?”
“Oh, I saw many places in my younger days. The Cape of Africa, Trinidad, Tobago, Antigua. . . . I traveled with a merchant for several years before I decided to stay on in Barbados.” He looked over at her. “And you, Miss Helen?”
“Me? I have been nowhere, save London. Do you miss traveling?”
With a glance toward Nathaniel, he said apologetically, “I admit to a growing restlessness, being indoors so much of the time, and being so far from the sea. I was raised along the coast, you know. And later in Barbados, I was never far from the sea.”
She nodded thoughtfully.
“I don’t suppose, Miss Helen . . .” he began cautiously, as if he dreaded her answer. “I don’t suppose you can imagine life anywhere besides Fairbourne Hall?”
She looked up at the ceiling in thought. “Actually, Mr. Hudson, after my years of self-imposed seclusion, I find myself longing for a change. I don’t know if you are aware, but my first love was a sea captain. I looked forward to life on the coast, perhaps even traveling with him from time to time.”
Hudson’s eyes dulled. “I am sorry for your loss.”
She nodded. “I felt sorry for myself too. For a long while. Too long. It was a blow at the time, but it is in the past. I am ready to leave it there.”
Hudson studied her closely. “I am glad to hear it.”
“Which part?”
He grinned. “All of the above.”
Nathaniel was glad to hear it as well.
Arnold appeared in the open doorway. “That Mr. Tompkins is here to see you again, sir.”
Nathaniel pursed his lips in surprise. “Is he? Very well, I shall see him in the morning room.”
Hudson stepped toward the door. “Shall I go with you?”
“No thank you. I will see him myself.”
“Then I suppose I shall return to my duties,” Hudson said with little relish.
Helen looked over at him. “I have a few things to discuss with you, Mr. Hudson, if you wouldn’t mind staying a little longer?”
Hudson stilled. “Of course, miss.”
Helen turned toward Nathaniel. “Unless you wish me to go in with you again, like the last time . . . ?”
Ever the big sister. “No need; stay as you are.”
Leaving Helen and Hudson in quiet conversation, Nathaniel crossed the hall. When he entered the morning room, the bald man stood, chimney-pot hat in hand. Did he not trust the under butler with it?
Nathaniel said, “Well, Tompkins. I am surprised to see you. I thought you would be celebrating your capture of the poetic Preston and spending your reward by now.”
The man smiled, but the gesture did not reach his eyes. “I have, sir. But there is still one outstanding piece of business between us.”
“If it relates to my brother, perhaps you have not heard. He has regained his senses and told the sheriff of Kent all about the ill-advised duel. The challenger has left the country, and considering what Lewis has suffered already, the sheriff has decided not to pursue legal action.”
“I had heard that, yes, sir.”
“Then why are you here? Sorry not to claim that reward as well, from the man who hired you?”
“Finding your brother’s assailant wasn’t what he commissioned me to do.”
“No?” Anger and alarm wrestled within Nathaniel, but he clenched his jaw and waited to hear the man out.
“No.” Tompkins’s high forehead creased into many furrows. “Sorry, sir. A convenient subterfuge.”
Nathaniel guessed the answer, but still asked, “Why were you here, then?”
“I think you know, sir.”
Nathaniel merely stared at him, jaw ticking.
“I came here to find Miss Margaret Macy. Quite a reward was offered me for her return too, should I succeed.” He glanced up at Nathaniel, expectant.
Nathaniel clenched his fist at his side, torn between wanting to pummel the man and wanting to bolt from the room and find Margaret.
He said, “I take it, then, that Sterling Benton hired you?”
“Oh, not exactly hired. But he did put up the reward.”
“Too bad you failed to find her.”
One brow rose. “Oh, but I did not fail.”
Nathaniel clenched both fists now. “Oh?”
“Come, sir. We are men of the world, the both of us. And I see how it is. I would have taken her too, had Preston not shown up here the very night I meant to snag Miss Macy. And as your reward was twice Benton’s, and as I never cared for the man, I took my leave of Kent without her, wishing the both of you happy.”
Nathaniel stared at the man, stunned.
“I only returned to tell you.” He sighed dramatically. “I needed someone to know I’d succeeded, even if I can’t tell anybody else.”
Nathaniel stepped forward, offering his hand. “Thank you, Tompkins.”
The man shook his hand firmly and smiled at last. “Thank you, sir.”
Nathaniel hesitated. “May I offer you something for your kindness?”
Pursing his lips, Tompkins shook his head. “No need. With my new reputation as the thief-taker who brought in the Poet Pirate, I’m set for life.”
Abruptly, Tompkins dug into his coat pocket. “By the way, sir. I’ve brought you some news from London. Hasn’t reached you here yet, I’d wager. I’ll leave it to you to do with it what you will.” He handed Nathaniel a torn and folded piece of newsprint.
Glancing at the torn page and seeing only a portion of the society section, Nathaniel tucked it into his pocket to read later.
No sooner had Mr. Tompkins taken his leave than Dr. Drummond arrived to pay a final call on his patient. Walking upstairs with the physician, Nathaniel quite forgot about the news smoldering in his pocket.
Endeavour to serve with such good will
and attention to the interest of your employers,
that they know they are blessed in having gotten
such a good servant, one who serves, not with
eye-service as a man-pleaser, but in
simplicity of heart as a Christian.
—Samuel and Sarah Adams, The Complete Servant
Chapter 32
Dr. Drummond took his leave, quite satisfied with Lewis’s recovery, and Nathaniel walked him out. On his way back through the hall, Hudson called him into his office to discuss the latest repair estimates and the progress of the new tenant cottages. Before Nathaniel knew it, it was time to dress for dinner.
When he entered the dining room at seven, he noticed that Helen wore a pretty blue evening gown he didn’t recall seeing before.
“You look lovely,” he said.
She lifted her chin. “Yes, I do.” She gave a saucy grin. “Thank you for noticing.”
As they began the first course, Helen asked, “How did it go with Mr. Tompkins?”
“Fine.”
“You explained the situation?”
She referred to Lewis and the “duel,” he knew. Aware of the listening ears of Arnold and the footmen, he decided to wait and tell her the real reason for the man’s visit another time.
“He went away satisfied, yes.”
“Good.” Helen expelled a relieved breath, and their conversation moved on to other pleasantries in no danger of being repeated in the servants’ hall.
It wasn’t until later that night, when Nathaniel returned to his room, that he recalled the newspaper in the pocket of the coat he’d worn earlier that day. Expecting nothing more than an article about Mr. Tompkins’s success with the Poet Pirate, or some piece of gossip about Sterling Benton, he pulled it out and unfolded it by the light of a candle lamp.
As he read the words, surprise, relief, and concern washed over him in waves. But at the thought of telling Margaret, his stomach soured. He was tempted to put it off until the next day, or the next. Instead, he forced his feet along the corridor and up the back stairs.
Nathaniel felt self-conscious, as he always did, standing in the attic passageway. Thankfully, his dog had kindly shown him which room was hers weeks before. He would not like to have to go knocking on every maid’s room to find her.
Had she really been a maid, he would have summoned her downstairs, but he was not overly concerned with preserving the good name of “Nora Garret.” Glancing around and seeing no one, he quietly knocked on Margaret’s door.
“Who’s there?” came Margaret’s wary whisper.
“It’s Nathaniel. I am sorry to disturb you, but I have news. . . .”
The latch clicked, and the door opened several inches, revealing the figure and face of Margaret Macy in her nightclothes. His heart banged, his lips parted. Of course he knew it was her, but somehow speaking with her as Nora had been easier. Now here she stood, in nightdress and wrapper, golden blond hair uncovered, coiling down one shoulder in a long plait, highlights of white gold flickering by the light of the bedside candle. No frumpy cap, no dark wig and drawn-on brows, no apron. Just her. He relished the sight.