and as unobtrusively as possible, Jane walked across the room towards Miss Marianne’s table, intending to deposit the refreshments and leave without disturbing their attention. It was one of the greatest skills of a good servant.
‘And he gave you no notion of why you were sent to fetch her?’ The Countess looked astounded.
The gentleman spread his hands. ‘None whatsoever. I was hoping you might enlighten me.’
She shook her head. ‘It all sounds most peculiar, Mr Kendal. But can you tell me the name of the woman you are sent in search of?’
‘I can. Her name is Jane Bailey.’
Crash! Tray, dishes, pastries and sweetmeats tumbled to the floor in a clatter of china, cutlery and food, the debris spreading far and wide. Jane could not understand why the visitor had said her name, but her attention had been completely diverted to the horror now adorning Miss Marianne’s best carpet.
It was a servant’s role to be unnoticed, unobtrusive. A shadow. Never to be seen unless the quality chose to interact with you. Since beginning her training as a scullery maid at the age of eight Jane had understood that to do what she had just done was the worst possible error she could ever make.
‘I am so sorry, my lady,’ she muttered, bending to gather some of the debris.
One of Miss Marianne’s prized Chamberlain Worcester plates was broken in two. Jane could not even begin to think how much the delicate china was worth. If any of the other girls had caused this calamity they would get a rare telling-off, and possibly even a warm ear from Mrs Bailey.
Just because the housekeeper happened to be her mother it did not excuse Jane from this culpability. What would this gentleman think of her? Of Ledbury House?
Lady Kingswood, issuing soothing reassurances, had already rung the bell for another maid, and shortly afterwards Sarah arrived—still with faint bloodstains on her sleeve.
Jane groaned inwardly. Of course it would have to be Sarah.
Together they swiftly gathered up the tumbled food, cutlery and crockery, while Lady Kingswood and her guest engaged in stilted empty conversation.
Oh, please, let us be done here, for I cannot bear to be in this room a moment longer!
Miss Marianne would think her stupid and clumsy. And what if she was so displeased she consigned Jane to work below-stairs?
Part of Jane’s mind was aware this was neither rational, nor likely, but the other part—the part currently overcome by fear and anxiety—could not at that moment be logical.
Thankfully, before long they were done. Jane would return later, to sweep the crumbs, but for now at least all the noticeable debris had been scooped up into her and Sarah’s aprons. Jane stood, bobbed a curtsey, and left alongside Sarah without a backward glance.
As they descended below-stairs in silence she could sense Sarah’s glee at her misfortune.
Oh, Jane was well aware the other servants thought she saw herself as better than them, but it was not true—not really. Being highly educated, and being a lady’s maid as well as daughter to the housekeeper, meant she had never been able to form friendships with any of the maids near her own age. But it was not that she saw herself as above them. Why, she had even served tea today in order to be helpful.
It was more that she could not be comfortable with their conversation—which focused mainly on village scandals, family gossip—and their fixation on flirting with any eligible lads in the district.
And moments like this is when I pay for it.
Sarah was clearly delighted that, having deprived the other housemaids of the pleasure of serving the handsome gentleman, Jane should have suffered such a spectacular calamity.
Jane maintained a stony silence and walked on.
Robert’s sense of disquiet was growing by the moment. Already uneasy about being sent on this wild mission by his uncle, he had felt his discomfort increase when he had realised Lord Kingswood was absent.
Apart from his mama and his aunt—and the occasional society of a courtesan or ladybird—Robert did not often find himself in the company of women, and had no idea how to respond to the archness, flirtation and simpering often displayed by the young ladies of his acquaintance.
Thankfully, Lady Kingswood had so far displayed none of these tendencies, and he had dared to hope he could communicate his delicate tale without sounding like an utter fool.
Until the maid had decided to trip over nothing and fling pastries and plates across the room.
He had glanced down at her, absently noting her pink cheeks and mortified expression. Strangely, it had made him feel a little easier, knowing that someone in the room was even more agitated than he.
She is very pretty, he had noted, surprising himself with the thought.
Another maid had arrived to help, and this one had immediately sent him a sideways bold glance.
Robert had looked away.
‘I do hope your postilion is being looked after,’ Lady Kingswood had offered politely, after murmuring reassuring words to the two maids.
‘Your groom came out to meet us,’ he had confirmed. ‘I have no doubt they are even now discussing horseflesh and poultices and whatnot.’
She had smiled. ‘Grooms and coachmen share a common language. Do you ride?’
‘I do.’ Wistfully, he had pictured the green hills around Beechmount Hall. ‘I am fortunate to live close to some of England’s finest countryside.’
‘My husband is a fine horseman.’ Lady Kingswood had not disguised her pride. ‘Such a pity he is not here today.’
‘Indeed.’
There had been a short silence.
Thankfully the maids had now completed their task and departed, the second one once again trying to catch his eye.
Robert kept his gaze firmly and politely on Lady Kingswood.
The door closed behind them and Lady Kingswood’s demeanour instantly changed. Bringing her hands together, she narrowed her eyes. ‘I must tell you, Mr Kendal,’ she asserted, ‘Miss Bailey is very dear to me, and I should not wish her to become embroiled in anything unsavoury or anything that might bring her harm.’
‘Then she exists and you know her!’ Seeing her startled expression, he made haste to explain. ‘My uncle—that is to say, Mr Millthorpe—was very clear that he wished to speak to Miss Bailey and that she would come to no harm by it. I think,’ he added reflectively, ‘that he sent me in order to reassure Miss Bailey and those close to her
