Wentworth Hall Read online

  “Reggie went on to make his fortune in diamond trading, which required him to stay close to the diamond mines of South Africa,” Lord Darlington explained. “We have corresponded avidly for the last twenty-five years.”

  “And now he’s dead?”

  “Sadly, yes. His wife also passed on many years before, and that leaves his children with no one to care for them but us.”

  “Us?” Maggie asked, the pitch of her voice rising, aghast at the thought of taking on any responsibility for small children. “How old are the little tykes?”

  “You needn’t worry, Maggie; Teddy and Jessica Fitzhugh are almost your age. They will both turn eighteen in a matter of months.”

  “They’re twins?”

  “Quite so, and given this tragic turn of events, they are dependent on our kindness. I expect you will treat them with the same warmth and hospitality as members of our family receive.”

  Members of our family receive about as much warmth as a snowstorm, Maggie considered, but decided not to voice her thoughts. “I’m sorry to hear of their father’s death. But certainly, they must be perfectly capable of living on their own at their age?” she asked instead.

  “Their fortune is being held in trust until they turn eighteen,” Lord Darlington answered. “Their father made the contract iron-clad, I’m afraid. No way to get them any money a day before their birthdays.”

  “Ahh,” Maggie said, amused that the plot had just thickened. It certainly explained her father’s sudden and uncharacteristic benevolence.

  “And what, might I ask, is meant by ahh?” Lord Darlington asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” Maggie replied with a cagey smile. He knew what she meant. The Darlington fortune was not what it once had been. The trappings were still there: the immense grandeur of Wentworth Hall, the staff of servants, the expensive clothing. But Maggie wasn’t blind… or deaf… or dumb… and you would have to be all three to live in Wentworth Hall and not see that the family funds had been overspent and badly invested. A fresh infusion of a South African diamond fortune would be just the boost they needed. She wondered how her father planned to get his hands on the Fitzhugh fortune. Perhaps Wesley would have to return from Oxford and wed Miss Diamond Mines? She only hoped Jessica Fitzhugh was passably attractive, for her elder brother’s sake.

  The clatter of dishes being laid out could be heard from the dining room, and Maggie’s stomach rumbled with hunger. She headed in the direction of the sound, but Lord Darlington clasped her at the elbow, halting her progress. “Upstairs, young lady, and change out of that Parisian getup.”

  Casting a longing eye toward the dining room, Maggie turned back and said, “Yes, Father.” She started toward the staircase and began to climb.

  “Maggie,” Lord Darlington said, walking toward her, his expression turning thoughtful. “You have indeed become a most lovely young woman. There was a time, not long ago, when I worried about your… impulsive nature.”

  Stopping on the staircase, Maggie turned warily.

  “It seems to me that your sojourn on the continent has lent you a new maturity that becomes you,” he observed.

  Maggie descended two steps, her heart sinking with this observation. By all accounts, her father’s words were meant as a compliment. So why did it feel so insulting? Especially given the fact that he was right. Any spark of the girl she once was had been extinguished. She’d put it out herself.

  “We should think about getting you out into society more. It’s time we turned our attention to providing you with a suitable husband.”

  “Of course,” Maggie snapped. “And I suppose you think Teddy Fitzhugh would be suitable?” she said, tossing off the words with worldly knowingness, making it clear that he was right to think her changed. She was no longer the wild unruly colt who had departed for the continent last year. She knew now how these games were played, and she was willing to play them.

  “Perhaps,” Lord Darlington replied in a level tone, “if he will have you. We also have more local suitors. Your mother would like to keep you close by, if possible. And the Duke of Cotswall has expressed interest.” With that shocking revelation, he nodded his dismissal, turning his back and walking into his study.

  Maggie gripped the curved banister to steady herself. Stunned by his words, she sank onto the step. This announcement had taken her utterly by surprise. It was the last thing she would have expected—or welcomed.

  Chapter Two

  EXACTLY WHAT THIS FAMILY DOES NOT need,” Nora complained. She trudged into the kitchen, arms piled high with dresses requiring laundering and pressing. Once more, Nora thought to herself how odd it was to come from upstairs where the Darlington family was slowly waking to face the day. Downstairs, the staff had been awake already for hours, preparing the morning meal and beginning their daily duties. They cleaned out the ashes from the fireplaces and lit new fires so the house would be warm when the family woke. Breakfast was already working. There were pots bubbling over with fragrant meals, breads baking in the oven, the sizzle of bacon in a fry pan. The dishes from the staff’s breakfast earlier that morning were stacked in the sink. The cook’s assistant would see to those once the Darlingtons had been fed. And all this for a highborn family of six! Well, five, with Lord Wesley away at Oxford. Nora shook her head again, muttering, “The Darlingtons have enough expenses without taking in orphans.”

  “And penniless orphans at that,” replied Mrs. Howard. As the head housekeeper, Mrs. Howard was put in charge of keeping Wentworth Hall running. A difficult task, by any measure, and Mrs. Howard often looked pinched about the face, as if constantly in pain. It was hardly a secret that the family’s ledgers were stretched to the limit. Not a day passed when Lord Darlington wasn’t chastising his wife over some little luxury she’d bought the girls or a new piece of furniture she’d purchased for the baby’s nursery. He’d always been an old cheapskate but these days more so than Nora could ever recall before.

  Rose the cook looked up from pie dough she was patting into a dish. Something scrumptious she would serve the Darlingtons for lunch. “Oh, the Fitzhugh twins are far from penniless, I can assure you.”

  Mrs. Howard took a seat at the large round table in the center of the room, pencil and pad in hand to begin creating a shopping list to stock the pantry in preparation for their guests. Nora stood beside her, sorting the clothes into piles on a chair.

  “How do you know?” Mrs. Howard asked Rose. Nora was interested herself. It was rare for old Rose to have any gossip, confined to the kitchen as she was.

  “The Fitzhughs have a summer estate in Kent and my sister’s best friend is head housekeeper there. The staff dreads the months of June through August when the family returns from Johannesburg. Those twins are holy terrors and spoiled brats, to hear tell of it,” Rose informed them. “Their summer estate can’t keep a staff in place. They end up leaving the service after one season! That’s why they aren’t coming with their own valet and maid.”

  Helen, a young, plump housemaid with strawberry blond hair, emptied a bucket of gray water into the work sink. “I’m sure the poor things won’t be as terrible as all that,” she said as she wiped the bucket clean. “They are orphans now and have lost everything.”

  “It’s true that they’ve lost their father and their mother before that, but they haven’t lost everything,” Rose insisted. “In fact they stand to gain a great deal very soon, so I can’t believe they will be with us for long.”

  “Mark my words, Lord Darlington will let them stay for as many months or years as they like,” Mrs. Howard said. “As long as these two are heirs to a fortune, he’ll treat them like gold. If only they would contribute to the household budget while they are here. Stretching the expenses to feed two more mouths is going to take a miracle, at this rate.”

  Nora handed the dresses over to Helen, with instructions from Lady Darlington to be more careful when ironing the lace this time. “Do you think they’ll expect me to attend to Jessica Fitzhugh?” Nora asked,
tucking her hair back into her white bonnet. “I certainly hope not,” she added before anyone had a chance to answer. “My hands are completely full as it is, seeing to both Miss Maggie and Miss Lila. If this were a proper estate as it once was when my mother worked here, we would have twice the staff and be getting at least half again the twenty pounds a year we’re earning.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Mrs. Howard disagreed.

  “I have it for a fact that at the Duke’s residence, Cotswall Manor, that’s the case,” Nora replied.

  “Oh, Nora, you hear everything,” Helen said with amusement, shaking her head as she sorted through the dresses Nora had presented to her.

  “I do,” Nora agreed. “It doesn’t hurt to be informed.” Nora made it a point to speak to others in service when she went into the town for the afternoon. And one of the great advantages of being a ladies maid was overhearing all sorts of information. Sometimes Lady Darlington acted as if Nora wasn’t even there when she was talking to the girls.

  “Oh, it’s one thing to be informed, and another to be riling people up by spreading gossip,” Grace, one of the upstairs maids, chided sourly as she wrung out a rag in the sink.

  Nora glared at Grace for the implication. Grace loved to act like a know-it-all, which was rich, given the fact that she really knew nothing!

  A tall, broad-shouldered young man with wavy black hair walked in the side entrance from the stables. Clear green eyes were the most striking feature of his square-jawed face. “Yes, tell us, Nora. What’s the latest scandalous gossip?” He winked, a smile dancing on his lips.

  Nora’s hands went to her hips and she scowled at the handsome nineteen-year-old groom. Like her, Michael’s father had worked at Wentworth Hall before him and he had grown up playing in the estate’s immaculate many-stalled stable. While Nora had been orphaned at a young age, Michael still had his father, who tended Wentworth Hall’s gardens. Knowing she was alone, Michael took special care of Nora. He was practically an older brother to her. Including the playful teasing.

  “Oh, right, Michael, make fun now,” she came back at him, “but when you want to know what’s really going on around here, who do you go to? Me! That’s who.”

  “And what would I want to know about this place?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of water from the cook’s sink.

  Nora tossed her head back and laughed. “Lots! You’re more interested in the comings and goings than any of us maids.”

  “Hardly,” Michael replied.

  Nora guffawed. How many times had she reported to him on the whereabouts of one Lady Margaret Darlington? In that, he was always keenly interested.

  Michael gave Nora a pointed look, and his dark brows knit as his green eyes thundered a warning for her not to say any more.

  Nora shrugged her shoulders. Never let it be said that she didn’t know the difference between sharing information and spreading rumors. There was plenty of scandal in Wentworth Hall that didn’t get remarked upon. She had no intention of embarrassing Michael in front of everyone, but she couldn’t resist the tease. “Well, I’m just saying is that each one of you has benefited one time or another from my information. So don’t be so high and mighty about it,” she scolded, wagging her finger at him.

  Michael dropped comically to one knee in front of Nora and took her hand in a mock display of remorse. “I do humbly apologize, Nora.”

  “Ahh, get away from me,” Nora rebuked him with a laugh. “You reek of horses. If I go upstairs smelling like that I’ll hear about it from her ladyship and the girls.”

  “Maggie doesn’t mind the smell of horses,” Michael said, standing up.

  “Has Lady Margaret been riding since she came home?” Mrs. Howard asked, emphasizing her proper title to make known her disapproval of the familiarity with which Michael and Nora often addressed Maggie and Lila.

  “No… not yet, at any rate,” Michael said. He turned to refill his glass of water, and stood with his back to the room to look out the window.

  “That’s strange, don’t you think, Michael?” Rose said as she laid apples and raisins into her pie. “Nearly a month since she returned and she hasn’t even gone out to the stables? That girl always adored riding.”

  “Yes, she did,” Michael agreed, then cleared his throat. “People change, I suppose.”

  Nora heard the sadness in his tone, and her heart went out to him. Michael had been living for the day when Maggie would return from her travels but since she’d come back, the girl hadn’t as much as said hello to him.

  “Lady Margaret has changed since she went to Europe,” Mrs. Howard observed. “She’s just not the happy wild thing she used to be. Have you noticed it, Michael? How does she seem to you?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t set eyes on her,” Michael admitted.

  Nora moved to stand by him and realized he was hiding so they wouldn’t see the red that had come to his cheeks at the mention of Maggie’s name.

  Nora caught his hand and gave it a squeeze, casting a sympathetic glance his way.

  “The trip abroad has matured Lady Margaret,” Grace ventured. “That’s what an excursion like that is intended to do. Of course no one expected them to be gone as long as they were. Once Lady Darlington realized she was with child, I suppose they had no choice but to stay until the baby was born and hale enough to travel home. Now that they are back, I hear Lord and Lady Darlington are anxious to get Lady Margaret settled down, raising children of her own. And the Duke of Cotswall has been by Wentworth Hall a few times.…”

  Nora looked sharply at the dowdy woman. Of course that was information Nora had already overheard, but she had been hoping to reveal it to Michael privately. Nora knew he had never stopped loving her—even knowing he was just a groom to her, and not someone Maggie could ever return feelings for. With darting eyes, Nora took in Michael’s reaction. He had blanched white as one of the estate’s crisp, starched sheets. “How do you know that?” Nora challenged Helen with a bit more aggression than she had meant to. “I never heard anything like that.”

  “I was mopping the hall the other day outside the library. The door was slightly open and I overheard the two of them talking,” Grace explained.

  “That’s disgusting,” Helen stated firmly, her voice dripping with true revulsion.

  “What? That I overheard them?” Grace questioned. “It wasn’t as though I was trying to—”

  “No!” Helen interrupted. “The Duke of Cotswall marrying Lady Margaret—”

  “I think he’s rather distinguished,” Mrs. Howard maintained. “For a man his age, I think—”

  “That’s exactly the thing of it,” Helen insisted. “He’s a man his age.”

  “What would you estimate him to be?” Rose asked Mrs. Howard. “Forty-five? Fifty?”

  “It’s not so unheard of,” Mrs. Howard said. “A man of great wealth feels that the lavish life he can offer a young woman makes him an attractive candidate for marriage despite a gap in age, and many a young woman eagerly reciprocates his attentions.”

  “I still say it seems wrong,” Helen said.

  “That’s because you’re very young,” Mrs. Howard replied. “The opportunity to be the Duchess of Cotswall with all the power, influence, and opportunity which accompany that title is nothing to be dismissed lightly. I hope that the new sophistication and maturity that we are noticing in Lady Margaret will help her to realize what she’s being offered.”

  “Disgusting,” Helen mumbled, unimpressed, and walked off with an armful of dresses.

  Michael had turned to face the room, listening to the conversation without joining in, standing deep in thought.

  Looking to him, Mrs. Howard inquired, “What do you think of all this then, Michael? Of the duke?”

  Michael said nothing at first. No emotion crossed his features. Then he simply said, “I think he’s old.”

  Mrs. Howard lifted her eyebrow. “That’s your only opinion? Don’t you interact with him when he comes in his
carriage?”

  “He treats his horses well,” Michael said dispassionately. “I haven’t got much to judge him by, since he’s not one to make conversation with a groom.”

  “I’m just surprised her ladyship is permitting the match,” said Grace.

  “Oh, nothing is set in stone yet,” Nora put in. “And Lady Maggie’s not one to let anyone tell her what to do. I don’t care how much she’s changed, she would never take a husband she didn’t care for. She’s too much a romantic for that.”

  “I’ve got to get back to the horses,” Michael said, abruptly placing his glass in the sink and hurrying out. The back door slammed behind him.

  “What’s gotten into him?” Mrs. Howard asked.

  “Oh, you know he’s concerned for his position,” Rose pointed out. “A full stable with a groom is an expense Wentworth Hall might not be able to afford much longer. Especially now that no one goes riding. Why keep Michael on staff when they can simply employ Lord Darlington’s valet to care for a couple horses instead?”

  “Poor dear,” Mrs. Howard said.

  Therese descended the staircase, “Bonjour,” she greeted them shyly. She crossed to the pantry and took out the box of Nestle infant formula brought over from France especially for baby James. “May I heat this on the stove?”

  “Allow me,” Rose offered, taking the box and depositing its contents in a small pot she filled with water. “I really can’t believe her ladyship has chosen not to breastfeed. Or even to get a wet nurse! This powder stuff is unnatural in my mind.”

  “Well, it serves its purpose,” Therese demurred. Nora noticed Therese always had a diplomatic response to any bit of complaint or insult. “I just feel so badly for Lord James. The tiniest white teeth are popping through his gums already. The poor thing is in great pain.”

  “I’ll put some hard bread on ice for the little dear,” Rose said. “It will soothe him.”

  It took only minutes to warm the formula and deposit it in a baby bottle, also imported from the continent. “Merci,” Therese said, before turning to hurry back up the stairs.