Page 60 of Wed By Proxy

“I only thought — that while we have our honored guests, you would refrain from such… sport.”

Guy froze in the act of slipping his key around his neck. “Firmin,” he said with ominous quiet. “Do not go too far, my friend.”

Firmin flushed. “I meant no offense.”

“Then be careful not to give it,” Guy recommended. “I cannot speak now,” he said shortly and turned resolutely away from his crestfallen steward.

Climbing the stairs, he reflected on the matter. He had always had the highest opinion of Firmin as both a servant and a man. They had fought together side by side during the war. Firmin had served Guy’s Father before him and given many years of good service. But Guy was not about to let that sway him when it came to the respect due him. He did not keep servants to safeguard his morals. He was undisputed master here of Acton March.

No doubt, Guy thought as he performed a short strip-wash, Firmin’s ideas of etiquette were offended. He, like most hereabouts heartily lamented the fate of the Kerslakes. It was not as though Guy would ever forget that his closest friend, Miles, had been killed in battle and his neighbor’s estate levelled to the ground. That did not mean, however, that he would blindly pander to Miles’s brother and sister’s every whim. They were afforded his hospitality whenever they asked of it. But he was not about to dance attendance on them.

It had almost seemed to Guy for the last week that Julia and Tristan enjoyed playing the role of tragic figures. He shook his head slightly as he flung his discarded clothing onto his chair. He could scarcely believe he was entertaining such harsh thoughts about them, but there it was. They did not even live in the north anymore, he thought with impatience. Just showed up once a year, inflicting themselves on all their old friends and neighbors, raking up the war and harping on about past injustices.

To top it all, he had to host a damned banquet in their honor the day after tomorrow. Julia had alluded to it several times over the last few days. Probably that was what Firmin had wanted to talk to him about, he thought irritably. At least it would be enough to keep his steward occupied the next couple of days with the drawing up of various lists of refreshments. It ought to keep Julia busy too, and keep her from springing out at him at every opportunity with her annoying topics of conversation. The thought cheered him considerably. And once it had been hosted, then the Kerslakes might finally start to think about leaving.

XXIV

Mathilde sighed dreamily as she brushed her hair and gazed at her reflection in the glass. Guy had said that her hair was not too short now, but shoulder length, though in truth it was a little short of that. Perhaps she should try wearing it up again, though the idea of getting much of a braid out of it was a little ambitious. Only that very day, Guy had bought her some very pretty hair pins that had caught her fancy from a street trader in Wickhamford. She tried braiding a side section and then pinning it away from her face, then turned this way and that to consider the effect. Perhaps if she tried the same arrangement also on the other side? Guy had told her that he would not return to the lodge that evening, and though she was disappointed, she was a little tired after such a long day. Of course, it would have been nice to fall sleep in his arms, she thought wistfully. Perhaps when she returned to Acton March with him, to take her rightful place at his side, whenever that would be. He had made no mention of it since she had moved to the lodge, but surely it would be soon. They were growing closer by the day. She was sure of it. She yawned, and glancing over her shoulder at her bed, thought how inviting it looked about now. After all, she had risen very early that morning and it had been a long old day. She heard a soft tap on the door.

“Come in!”

Mathilde told herself she was a fool when her heart leapt. Of course, it was only Prudie with a jug of warm water for washing. She placed it on the side with a clean washing cloth, then banked the fire.

“Can I get you anything else milady?”

“No thank you, Prudie. I think I’ll to bed. I’m really quite tired.”

“Not surprised milady. Not after your busy day.” The maid hovered, and Mathilde looked up expectantly. Prudie took a deep breath. “I expect you’ll be wanting an explanation,” she said and turned rather pink.

Mathilde blinked. “An explanation?”

The maid squared her shoulders. “For Waldon turning up this morning like he did,” she said, folding her lips resolutely.

Mathilde cast her mind back. “Oh, er, well,” she hesitated. “I did notice the salt box was full,” she said tactfully.

Prudence bit her lip. “Yes, I thought you might.” They both lapsed into silence.

“I take it Waldon came to visit with you, then,” Mathilde ventured. “You are — friends?”

Prudence dragged one toe across the rug. “I don’t know as I’d say that precisely,” she mumbled.

“He is wooing you, then?” suggested Mathilde gently. At a guess she would say Prudence was in her midthirties and Waldon looked to be late thirties if not early forties.

Prudence’s shoulders rose and fell. “As to that milady… I can hardly say.” She huffed out a breath. “I’ve not — much experience.” She looked as if it pained her a little to admit it. Suddenly, Mathilde’s heart went out to her awkward maidservant. In this respect, they had something in common. “Sometimes I think he is. He’ll call me lass and tip me a wink, but then other times…” She frowned. “I don’t think he can have any partiality for me at all. He’s hard to read.”

“The important thing is, do you want him to woo you?” asked Mathilde directly.

Prudie looked as if she would vehemently deny it for a moment. Then she gave a quick nod of her head.

“Yes,” she all but whispered. “But I’ve got no clue how to bring him up to scratch,” she admitted wretchedly. “For my mother died when I was only knee-high and I am not close to my stepsisters.”

“So, you’ve come to me?” asked Mathilde, vastly flattered to be considered an authority on men and courting.

Again, her maid nodded, looking so pathetically hopeful that Mathilde was touched.

“Do you read?” she asked suddenly.

Prudie nodded. “Aye, when I’ve the chance.”