Page 41 of The Consolation Prize

Una shivered. “He was probably a good deal frightened. That top chamber looks balanced so perilously up there. One day it will probably come crashing to the ground.”

Armand murmured in agreement, looking up. “Aye, more than likely. That’s why it’s best if you stay away from this spot altogether.”

*

After they had returned to the house, Una set about viewing the rooms and making her plans, while Rose and Abelard trailed after her, the very picture of two faithful companions.

Otho returned from the village with a strapping laborer called Peter, who didn’t have much to say for himself but had plenty of muscles. Armand was in the stable seeing to his horse, when Otho confronted him with a rather defiant air. “He can start right away, and we don’t need to put him up at the house for he lives in the village with his widowed mother.”

Armand glanced the bashful lad over. Peter hung back in the shadows, as if embarrassed by his own size. He looked no more than one and twenty at the most. “If you think he’s suitable, then set him to work,” he answered with a touch of impatience, for he was brushing down Arturo who expected a good deal more attention than he had received the previous day. “I put you in charge of the hiring, Otho.”

“I can help out in the stables too,” Peter piped up unexpectedly. “My father was a blacksmith, so I’m used to being around horses.”

Armand glanced up. “Well, then that’s fine,” he said, directing a look at Otho. “Well done.”

Otho’s face relaxed and he sent Peter outside to start on tidying the kitchen garden at once. “I also found a possible cook,” he started, folding his arms, and jutting his chin out. Armand wondered if every conversation with Una’s brother was going to be as confrontational as this one.

“Yes,” he answered, striving for patience. “Well, that’s good isn’t it?”

Otho’s lips thinned. “He has a somewhat checkered history,” he admitted cautiously.

Armand straightened up. “What does that mean?”

“He used to be a successful baker in a city about ten miles from here, but he’s had to move in with his wife’s family in Little Derring.”

“Why is that?” asked Armand, reaching for a brush.

“He burned his premises down.”

Armand lowered the brush. “He burned it down?” he repeated slowly, as Otho stared resolutely back at him. “Some kind of whim or fancy took him?” he hazarded.

Otho’s expression grew stony. “By all accounts, he used to have a problem with the drink, but he’s abstinent now so …”

Armand sighed. “It’s your decision, Otho,” he said, applying the brush to Arturo’s long back. “If you say the man is reformed, then by all means give him a trial.”

“We needn’t furnish him with lodgings, for he has a wife and child at the family home to return to.”

Armand nodded. “By the way, how many servant bedchambers are there?”

“Four,” said Otho looking scandalized that Armand had to ask. “But there’s room for more than one bed in all of them.”

“If you keep employing villagers, we won’t need to double them up,” Armand observed sagely. He crouched beside Arturo’s great legs then realized Otho was still lingering. “Is there anything else?” he asked looking up.

“That girl,” Otho said, not meeting his eye.

Armand grit his teeth. Otho’s attitude over Rose was starting to seriously annoy him. “Well, what about her?”

“If Una wishes to keep her around, she’ll need demoting. She’s not fit for a housekeeper.”

“Agreed.”

“She needs moving out of the housekeeper’s room into a smaller one.” His jaw hardened. “You should see the state of it.”

Armand’s eyebrows rose. “Is it dirty?”

“It’s not that,” said Otho in clipped tones. “It’s crammed full of wildflowers! Looks more like a meadow than a bedchamber.”

“Well, I suggest you cross that bridge when you’ve found a new housekeeper,” Armand observed dryly. “Otherwise she’ll be spouting tears for the next week and it is your sister who will suffer for it.”