Read Online Lord Barry's Dream House by Emily Hendrickson - Free Book Online
Authors: Emily Hendrickson
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do we not join the young women?”
Edmund willingly walked along with his host—at least he supposed Mr. Teynham served as host if his sister was the hostess.
“Have you gone over the plans for your private rooms yet?” Mr. Teynham inquired. “Juliana made a few changes there, as she may have explained. Personally, I like the notion of a shower bath rather than a fixed tub. Let the women soak if they please. I like the idea of brisk flow of water over me come morning. I know a few old-fashioned folks would balk at the notion—think a fellow ought to bathe once a season, if then. Not very progressive, those. Do you not think it clever how she designed the water system? All the best families have hot and cold running water now, you know. Quite the latest novelty. Juliana is very much the new-fashioned woman.”
“Hot and cold running water? I have not heard of such a thing—nor has Lady Juliana informed me of it. It must be costly,” Edmund muttered. He wondered what else his lady architect had not told him and how the bills might escalate. This house was costing more than he expected.
“Well, if you have an engine to pump the water to the cistern on top of that pretty little water house out there”—George gestured vaguely off to the distance—“you might as well have it heated for the baths, not to mention the kitchen, once it comes to the house. Dashed practical, I say,” he concluded. Then with a glance out of the window, he added, “There’s to be a fountain out in front of the house that promises to be right pretty, and I believe she planned a buffet in the dining room where running water could be used to rinse hands, faces, or glasses. Dashed clever girl, my niece. Has thought of everything.” George put his hands behind him and strolled ahead, leaving Edmund in deep thought.
Not only was Lady Juliana clever, she had providentially neglected to inform him of these novelties she’d added to his house. Hot and cold running water, a buffet, a shower bath, not to mention a fountain in front of the house—like some blasted monument? What would be next? He fairly steamed with annoyance.
All he had wished for was a solid English house on his own English land in which he might install a suitable English wife to raise his English children. He desired a conformable wife with traditional taste. It seemed he’d acquired a lady architect determined to give him every folderol and fancy whether he wanted it or not! Novelties! Well, he would see about that. And he would not allow this pretty miss to wind him around her finger.
He slowly followed George Teynham into the dining room to come to a halt at the sight of a vast piece of marble being eased into place by means of several stout workmen. When finished, they picked up a wooden platform with rollers on the underside, then quickly left the room after darting anxious looks at Lady Juliana and himself.
“La, my lord,” Lady Rosamund simpered as they stood before the newly installed buffet. “I vow you will be the envy of everyone around. I saw one not unlike this in a recent issue of Ackermann's Reposito ry ,” she said, referring to that arbiter of Regency taste.
Edmund surveyed the monstrosity with hostile eyes. It was huge, of white marble veined with pink and gray. Above it a shell design in the same marble was set into the wall over a series of shelves—for glassware, he supposed. The large basin in the center of the buffet was flanked by small niches to either side—separate pieces of the identical marble. He presumed the hot and cold water would spout from the mouths of the fancy and quite unidentifiable animal heads of shining brass. He hated the thing on sight.
“Indeed? I was unaware that the buffet as you call this, would be so desirable.” He produced his quizzing glass so to inspect it more closely.
Juliana looked at her patron with dismay. His voice fairly froze one. She had not expected him to balk at something so mundane as a mere
Edmund willingly walked along with his host—at least he supposed Mr. Teynham served as host if his sister was the hostess.
“Have you gone over the plans for your private rooms yet?” Mr. Teynham inquired. “Juliana made a few changes there, as she may have explained. Personally, I like the notion of a shower bath rather than a fixed tub. Let the women soak if they please. I like the idea of brisk flow of water over me come morning. I know a few old-fashioned folks would balk at the notion—think a fellow ought to bathe once a season, if then. Not very progressive, those. Do you not think it clever how she designed the water system? All the best families have hot and cold running water now, you know. Quite the latest novelty. Juliana is very much the new-fashioned woman.”
“Hot and cold running water? I have not heard of such a thing—nor has Lady Juliana informed me of it. It must be costly,” Edmund muttered. He wondered what else his lady architect had not told him and how the bills might escalate. This house was costing more than he expected.
“Well, if you have an engine to pump the water to the cistern on top of that pretty little water house out there”—George gestured vaguely off to the distance—“you might as well have it heated for the baths, not to mention the kitchen, once it comes to the house. Dashed practical, I say,” he concluded. Then with a glance out of the window, he added, “There’s to be a fountain out in front of the house that promises to be right pretty, and I believe she planned a buffet in the dining room where running water could be used to rinse hands, faces, or glasses. Dashed clever girl, my niece. Has thought of everything.” George put his hands behind him and strolled ahead, leaving Edmund in deep thought.
Not only was Lady Juliana clever, she had providentially neglected to inform him of these novelties she’d added to his house. Hot and cold running water, a buffet, a shower bath, not to mention a fountain in front of the house—like some blasted monument? What would be next? He fairly steamed with annoyance.
All he had wished for was a solid English house on his own English land in which he might install a suitable English wife to raise his English children. He desired a conformable wife with traditional taste. It seemed he’d acquired a lady architect determined to give him every folderol and fancy whether he wanted it or not! Novelties! Well, he would see about that. And he would not allow this pretty miss to wind him around her finger.
He slowly followed George Teynham into the dining room to come to a halt at the sight of a vast piece of marble being eased into place by means of several stout workmen. When finished, they picked up a wooden platform with rollers on the underside, then quickly left the room after darting anxious looks at Lady Juliana and himself.
“La, my lord,” Lady Rosamund simpered as they stood before the newly installed buffet. “I vow you will be the envy of everyone around. I saw one not unlike this in a recent issue of Ackermann's Reposito ry ,” she said, referring to that arbiter of Regency taste.
Edmund surveyed the monstrosity with hostile eyes. It was huge, of white marble veined with pink and gray. Above it a shell design in the same marble was set into the wall over a series of shelves—for glassware, he supposed. The large basin in the center of the buffet was flanked by small niches to either side—separate pieces of the identical marble. He presumed the hot and cold water would spout from the mouths of the fancy and quite unidentifiable animal heads of shining brass. He hated the thing on sight.
“Indeed? I was unaware that the buffet as you call this, would be so desirable.” He produced his quizzing glass so to inspect it more closely.
Juliana looked at her patron with dismay. His voice fairly froze one. She had not expected him to balk at something so mundane as a mere
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