Page 33 of The Consolation Prize

“I haven’t been in this house in five years,” Armand retorted scathingly. “The last time I came home was to my Father’s house to visit my Mother’s deathbed. I came nowhere near Lynwode on that occasion. I’ve never seen that girl before in my life, and if it’s up to me, she’ll be out on her ass as soon as can be managed.”

Otho still looked suspicious but gave a shrug. “You can’t blame me for asking.”

“She’s not at all the type I admire,” Armand said shortly, which was nothing less than the truth. He liked them womanly and bold, not slender, and away with the faeries. “Gods,” he sighed. “I dread to think what state the bedrooms are in. If you go out and make the stables ready, then I’ll rake this fire to heat some water.”

Otho nodded and headed for the door leading out to the back and Armand turned his attention to the fire.

5

Una was dog-tired, but she turned to the nervous Rose and fixed a smile upon her face. “Rose, if you show me up to the master chamber then you and I can make it ready together.”

Rose perked right up at this suggestion. “Yes, my lady, this way, my lady.” At least she was obliging, thought Una as she mounted the unswept staircase, if nothing else. Beside her, Abelard gamely kept up, unwilling to let her out of his sight. Una dusted the cobwebs off her shoulder as they reached the first floor, then when Rose threw open a door for her, wished she hadn’t bothered. The room was simply under layers of dust. Everything looked quite gray.

“Perhaps, putting the furniture under sheets would have helped, Rose,” she said faintly, looking about her with growing dismay.

“I didn’t think of that, milady.”

Una turned back to her despairingly. “How were you employed before you became housekeeper here?” she asked with curiosity.

“I was personal maid to old Mrs. Gaventree over at Upper Derring for six years until she died, poor thing. She taught me how to embroider and play the harp,” said Rose proudly.

Una deduced Rose had been the old lady’s pet most likely. No wonder she was unfit for practical purposes! “I take it Mrs. Gaventree had no children of her own.”

“No, milady, but how did you guess?” Rose marveled. “This is a fine big room, is it not?” she said turning full circle to take in its size.

“It is,” Una agreed. There was a beautiful wide arched window with three stained-glass panels casting colored lights into the room and a window seat beneath it, which would be inviting, if it were not so dirty. She could not make out the color of the upholstery in its current state, but would be interested to see what it turned out to be.

The ceiling was a vaulted timber frame with dark wooden beams that made the room seem even more spacious, and Una could see it was a well-proportioned and handsome room. The bed was a large wooden affair, set on a raised platform with a canopy suspended from the ceiling from which hung filthy curtains.

On the opposite side of the room was a large dresser, also very decorative, with a large looking glass hanging above it, though you could see precious little in its reflection at present. A tall cabinet, a large chest, a carved table, two chairs, and a footstool were the remaining furniture, and Una looked forward to seeing them without their coating of grime. Abelard who was timidly peering under the dresser, sneezed, before creeping under it to hide.

Una squared her shoulders. “Is there any clean linen for us to remake the bed?” she asked turning resolutely to Rose. The girl blinked, looking uncertain. “There is no linen cabinet in the house?” Una said with surprise.

Rose hung her head and drew her slippered toe through the dust on the floorboard. “I don’t know, my lady,” she whispered.

Una was left to conclude that Rose had never done an inventory of the house. “Never mind,” she said briskly. “Let us get these curtains down first. Fetch a chair to stand on, and you start this side and I’ll start the other.”

Rose nodded and ran to fetch a chair. Yes, thought Una, she is willing, just badly in need of someone to give her orders. After they had taken down the curtains, they stripped the bed of its coverings and then bundled them into a large pile for washing. Una was just dragging this to one corner when Armand came into the room.

He stood for a moment, looking about him with a jaundiced eye, sent a withering look in Rose’s direction, and then addressed Una. “I’ve lit the kitchen fire,” he said. “Water’s on to boil.”

“Wonderful. We are just setting things to rights in here,” Una said quickly, hoping to forestall any remark he might make to send Rose in a quake again. “We need clean bedclothes and dusters. I don’t suppose you have come across such things in your wanderings?”

Armand closed his eyes briefly a moment, as though mustering strength. “Surely to gods—”

“No, she doesn’t,” Una said swiftly, and Armand drew in a sharp breath before speaking again.

“I’ll undertake to find one,” he said through gritted teeth. He turned sharply on his heel and left the room.

Rose’s bottom lip trembled. “I don’t think the master likes me,” she said in a woebegone voice.

Prudently, Una did not comment on this but asked the girl to fetch a basin of clean water and some soap if she had it. Rose trailed off, casting mournful glances over her shoulder. Una suspected she did not want to encounter Otho below stairs, who had looked rather fierce.

When Armand reappeared moments later with cloths and a pile of sheets and blankets, Una welcomed him thankfully.

“The sheets smell a little musty,” he admitted. “They’ve probably sat in that cupboard since Mrs. Challacombe died.”

“Very likely,” Una agree with a tired smile. “We’ll need the mattress restuffed.”