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Authors: Judith B. Glad
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room,
but just as he reached the door to the bathing room, a thought
occurred to her. "Nettles? Have you any friends--comrades,
perhaps--who need work?"
"M'lady?"
"I have need of a man who can guard and protect an elderly
man and a girl. Someone who bears little respect for the nobility and
will not be daunted by a member of the upper class. Do you know of
anyone?"
His expression grew suspicious. "I don't know nobody like
that."
"Oh, come now. Surely you know some ex-soldiers who are
honest men, but not enamored of the ton ?"
His face remained blank and he reached for the doorknob, as
if eager to escape.
"Oh, go in, then. But give some thought to what I've asked
you. It is important."
She laid her letter aside, unsure of how to finish it. Alanna
needed protection from Darius. Ackerslea might need to be
protected from Percival's greed. And she could not leave Guillemot,
for her husband's estate was in far greater need of her talents and
energy than Ackerslea.
Still it galled that her own estate might suffer because she
was giving all her attention to Guillemot. She could--and
would--bring Alanna here, but she could not oversee Hakon from a distance
of twenty-seven miles, over wretched roads.
The door opened again. Her husband, leaning on Nettle's
capable shoulder, emerged. They made their slow way to the chaise
where Guillemot spent his days. She did notice that he was taking
more of his weight than he had on their wedding day and the lines of
pain bracketing his mouth were less pronounced. Once settled, he
leaned back and closed his eyes. "That will be all, Nettles. When
you've cleaned up the mess we made, you're free for the rest of the
day."
"But sor--"
"Nettles, you have served me day and night for months. It is
time for you to rest. The Duck's Nest stout used to be the best in
England."
"It ain't as good as what me granda served, back in Little
Bywater."
"You can't know that until you've tasted it. Go on."
Nettles disappeared, but his industry was evidenced by the
sounds coming from the half-open door to the bathing room. When
he at last emerged, carrying a wicker basket full of linen, he said, "I'll
be back in--"
"If I see you before tomorrow morning, I'll court-martial
you, Sergeant. Go."
Lisanor was amazed when Nettles dropped the basket,
straightened and saluted. "Yes, sor, Major, sor."
Guillemot chuckled. "That's better. Enjoy yourself."
When the door had closed behind Nettles, Guillemot said,
"Now then, my dear, what's this about your wanting an honest
ex-soldier who lacks respect for his betters?"
Chapter Seven
Oh, dear. She'd never thought to tell Nettles that her
request was to be between the two of them. "I...ah... Oh, for goodness
sake! Here, my lord. Read it for yourself." She carried Alanna's letter
to him.
She sank onto the hassock before his chair and watched his
face as he read. His expression went from mild curiosity, to
amusement--Alanna had called Uncle Percival a fat little leech--to
narrow-eyed, thin-lipped wrath. When he at last lowered the crossed
and recrossed sheet to his lap, she wanted to sigh in relief. His
reaction was all that she could have desired.
"How old is your sister?" His tone was at odds with the calm
expression he wore.
"She is just turned eighteen, but what--"
"Was there some overwhelming reason why you left a young
woman--little more than a child--of eighteen alone and at the mercy
of predatory relatives?"
Speechless, she could only stare at him. Why was he angry
with her? When at least she found her voice, she said, "We thought it
best that someone in the family remain at Ackerslea, to
oversee--"
"You have a bailiff, have you not?"
"Yes, Tumos Hakon. He was bailiff for nearly forty years,
until my grandfather replaced him last year with an estate agent. Mr.
Fishman was...unsatisfactory. I discharged him before I left Ackerslea
Farm, and Tumos stepped in to fill the vacancy until I could find a
replacement. But he--"
"That would make him sixty or
but just as he reached the door to the bathing room, a thought
occurred to her. "Nettles? Have you any friends--comrades,
perhaps--who need work?"
"M'lady?"
"I have need of a man who can guard and protect an elderly
man and a girl. Someone who bears little respect for the nobility and
will not be daunted by a member of the upper class. Do you know of
anyone?"
His expression grew suspicious. "I don't know nobody like
that."
"Oh, come now. Surely you know some ex-soldiers who are
honest men, but not enamored of the ton ?"
His face remained blank and he reached for the doorknob, as
if eager to escape.
"Oh, go in, then. But give some thought to what I've asked
you. It is important."
She laid her letter aside, unsure of how to finish it. Alanna
needed protection from Darius. Ackerslea might need to be
protected from Percival's greed. And she could not leave Guillemot,
for her husband's estate was in far greater need of her talents and
energy than Ackerslea.
Still it galled that her own estate might suffer because she
was giving all her attention to Guillemot. She could--and
would--bring Alanna here, but she could not oversee Hakon from a distance
of twenty-seven miles, over wretched roads.
The door opened again. Her husband, leaning on Nettle's
capable shoulder, emerged. They made their slow way to the chaise
where Guillemot spent his days. She did notice that he was taking
more of his weight than he had on their wedding day and the lines of
pain bracketing his mouth were less pronounced. Once settled, he
leaned back and closed his eyes. "That will be all, Nettles. When
you've cleaned up the mess we made, you're free for the rest of the
day."
"But sor--"
"Nettles, you have served me day and night for months. It is
time for you to rest. The Duck's Nest stout used to be the best in
England."
"It ain't as good as what me granda served, back in Little
Bywater."
"You can't know that until you've tasted it. Go on."
Nettles disappeared, but his industry was evidenced by the
sounds coming from the half-open door to the bathing room. When
he at last emerged, carrying a wicker basket full of linen, he said, "I'll
be back in--"
"If I see you before tomorrow morning, I'll court-martial
you, Sergeant. Go."
Lisanor was amazed when Nettles dropped the basket,
straightened and saluted. "Yes, sor, Major, sor."
Guillemot chuckled. "That's better. Enjoy yourself."
When the door had closed behind Nettles, Guillemot said,
"Now then, my dear, what's this about your wanting an honest
ex-soldier who lacks respect for his betters?"
Chapter Seven
Oh, dear. She'd never thought to tell Nettles that her
request was to be between the two of them. "I...ah... Oh, for goodness
sake! Here, my lord. Read it for yourself." She carried Alanna's letter
to him.
She sank onto the hassock before his chair and watched his
face as he read. His expression went from mild curiosity, to
amusement--Alanna had called Uncle Percival a fat little leech--to
narrow-eyed, thin-lipped wrath. When he at last lowered the crossed
and recrossed sheet to his lap, she wanted to sigh in relief. His
reaction was all that she could have desired.
"How old is your sister?" His tone was at odds with the calm
expression he wore.
"She is just turned eighteen, but what--"
"Was there some overwhelming reason why you left a young
woman--little more than a child--of eighteen alone and at the mercy
of predatory relatives?"
Speechless, she could only stare at him. Why was he angry
with her? When at least she found her voice, she said, "We thought it
best that someone in the family remain at Ackerslea, to
oversee--"
"You have a bailiff, have you not?"
"Yes, Tumos Hakon. He was bailiff for nearly forty years,
until my grandfather replaced him last year with an estate agent. Mr.
Fishman was...unsatisfactory. I discharged him before I left Ackerslea
Farm, and Tumos stepped in to fill the vacancy until I could find a
replacement. But he--"
"That would make him sixty or
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