The Christmas Strike. Nikki Rivers
with a nod. “And perhaps she may be allowed to use your kitchen to make me a pot of tea or some other drink or snack occasionally?”
He eyed the girl, who stood awkwardly beside Leonora, her face as red as her work-worn hands. “Zere will be nossing of any difficulty, madame.”
“Thank you. Dolly will need to occupy a servant’s room in the attic. Perhaps someone could show her up?”
“Zee ’ousekeeper will arrange zat, madame. She is in ’er chamber.”
“Housekeeper?” murmured Leonora, momentarily brought up short. Lord Kelsey had not mentioned a housekeeper, though of course he would need one.
“Mrs Parkes, madame, une veuve—’ ow you say? A vidow? She ’as zee room in front next zee servants’ room. I ’ave zee one next ma cuisine.”
“Then perhaps you will introduce us?”
The housekeeper’s room had a large chunk cut out of it for a store-room, but otherwise it was the same size as her own drawing room upstairs, plenty big enough to accommodate table, chairs and bed. The fast-fading daylight barely allowed her to see the basement wall, some three yards from the window. As she looked up she glimpsed the railings etched against the flickering light cast on the feet of a man by the torch he carried. The grass and trees beyond were quite out of sight.
The housekeeper herself was of ample proportions and looked middle-aged. Her gown was of dark stuff and a frilly black cap touched by white hid her hair. She rose from a chair drawn up before a bright fire, while candles flickered above on its mantel. Her curtsy was made without fuss and a neutral smile appeared on her smooth-cheeked face.
“Of course there’s room for the lass,” she said comfortably and the smile she turned on Dolly was motherly. “You’ll find company up there, my girl.” To Leonora she said, “I’ll be up in a minute to show her where to go. Have you ordered your supper, madam?”
Leonora, surprised by the way the woman spoke, shook her head. “Not yet. I have a companion to live with me. There are therefore three of us, with Dolly.”
“Dolly can eat in the Servants’ Hall, with the others, if that suits. I shall order a meal for you and your companion, madam. Leave it to me. Monsieur André is an exceptional cook, which makes the Club’s dining room popular, and I shall see that you are provided with the best.”
“Thank you, Mrs Parkes. When will supper be served?”
“Dinner is between two and five o’clock and supper between eight and midnight.” The excellent Mrs Parkes, plainly a superior woman of some education, glanced at the clock on the mantel. “It is only a half after five. Would you like a snack while you wait?”
“Thank you, I would appreciate that. And supper early, at eight, tonight. We have had a tiring day. I am obliged to you, Mrs Parkes.”
The spiral stairs seemed to rise up forever. Following Dolly now, Leonora wondered if she would ever be able to mount them from bottom to top without losing her breath. But of course she would! She was comparatively young, and fit, and she would not allow the inconvenience of having to climb innumerable narrow, winding stairs to reach her rooms daunt her. It would please his lordship too much if she did.
She was out of breath by the time she reached her floor, but managed to recover it quickly by inhaling deeply a couple of times.
“Come, Dolly,” she ordered the youngster. “While you are waiting for Mrs Parkes, you may as well begin to unpack my things.”
Her bedroom was large enough to double as her boudoir, she thought, looking around with more attention than she had given it before. With pretty striped drapes at the windows and new bed curtains and cover, it would be both comfortable and pleasant on the eye.
A mahogany chest of drawers and a cupboard with shelves stood in the dressing room, with a wash stand and close stool. Her clothes would all be kept in there. She would buy a cheval mirror or two and replace the gentleman’s chest in the bedroom with a dressing table and perhaps buy a chaise-longue.
She would show the intolerable Earl downstairs that she was no wilting lily to be frightened off by his desecration of her premises. What had her uncle been thinking of, to allow him to set up a gambling hell below?
The answer came to her without her even having to think. He had been a man, probably a gambler and had belonged to the Club. Of course he had seen no reason to object!
Apart from the interminable stairs she must climb to reach it, she would have been well satisfied with her accommodation. That she must use the servants’ entrance and back stairs was an insult entirely caused by the disobliging presence of Lord Kelsey pursuing his dubious activities beneath her.
Tomorrow, she decided as she consumed the cold ham, fresh bread and butter and pot of tea Mrs Parkes had sent up after showing Dolly her quarters, she would confront Mr Coggan in his chambers and demand that the lease be terminated. After she had inspected the premises downstairs.
Tomorrow promised to be an interesting day.
Sharp on nine the following morning, refreshed by a night of deep and untroubled slumber, Leonora trod down the main staircase to beard Lord Kelsey in his den. She took the precaution of taking Clarissa with her. After all, she was flouting convention by visiting a gentleman in his rooms, even although it was on business. Besides, there was something about the Earl she did not—quite—trust.
The doors on the middle landing were ajar and sounds of cleaning could be heard. They passed straight down to the ground floor and Leonora, seeing no functionary to stop her, led the way to the office she had been in yesterday.
Most of the doors down here, to private rooms occupied by the Earl and his manager, were firmly closed against intrusion. The office door, however, was ajar. She rapped on the panel and entered on a brisk invitation so to do.
She had not noticed, yesterday, that the room was more than an office. It was, in most respects, equipped as a study, with armchairs by the fire and a reading desk near the single window. The other window, this one’s twin, had been cut off to create an inner room, the use of which was not immediately obvious.
The Earl, however, had risen from the same large desk he had been using yesterday. Its surface was strewn mostly with bills and ledgers. He was not making the entries but checking someone else’s work, the scanty daylight augmented by the light from a branch of candles.
“You are punctual, Miss Vincent,” he greeted her, having bowed and received their curtsies in return.
“In business, my lord, it pays to abide by one’s promises,” Leonora said. “I am ready to make my inspection, and have brought Miss Worth with me to take down any necessary notes.”
Clarissa held a pad of paper and a pencil clutched to her breast. She was gazing at his lordship with bright, interested eyes and faintly flushed cheeks. Yesterday, realised Leonora, Clarissa had not had much chance to take in Kelsey’s splendid physique and the excellent tailoring which displayed it to full advantage. Neither had she been treated to a smile which conveyed both welcome and a degree of conspiratorial sympathy. As though she, Leonora, was some harridan to be placated!
She looked about her with an austerely critical gaze.
“This room appears to be in satisfactory order—except for that patch of damp by the window.” She walked over and looked up, peering as closely as possible at the stained wallpaper. “Why have you not had it repaired?”
Kelsey spoke in the resigned tone of one dealing with a fractious infant. “Because, Miss Vincent, the trouble is outside, in the stonework, for which the owner is responsible. Mr Vincent was intending to have a repair effected before he so unfortunately died. He also expected to bear the cost of having the wall redecorated internally.”
“I shall consult a stonemason,” declared Leonora briskly, hiding her discomfort under a businesslike manner. Dear Lord, how much would that cost her? She had not even considered that repairs might be necessary to the fabric, for which she