chairs in the drawing room when Mr. Noakes appeared to announce the arrival of our visitor, who came into the room on his heels.
“My lady.” Mr. Crawford was a young Scotsman who took his position very seriously. After Adrian’s father had died, Adrian had pensioned off the old earl’s man of business and had employed Mr. Crawford. Mr. Crawford was of impeccable lineage, but he was also the middle child in a family of nine. He was intensely grateful for the position and tended to speak of Adrian as if he were the second coming of the Messiah.
“You poor thing,” I said as I took in his frozen appearance. “Go right upstairs. There is a fire going in your bedroom and Robert will bring you some hot tea.” He gave me a grateful smile, murmured a few polite words about my graciousness, and disappeared up the stairs in the direction of the bedroom he always used.
He looked better when he came into the drawing room an hour later. I was waiting for him and we went into dinner.
Mr. Noakes and Robert served us Mrs. Noakes’s delicious wine-sauce chicken. Robert came every day to help Mr. Noakes around the house, but he lived with an aged grandmother in one of the cottages on the estate grounds. The other servant was Nancy, who also lived in one of the cottages. She came to the manor every morning with her father, who saw to the garden.
“I have been in communication with the earl about you, my lady,” Mr. Crawford said as he took an abstemious sip of his wine. I had been admiring the large lump Robert was sporting on his forehead due to a fall on some ice, but these words captured my undivided attention.
“About me?” To my chagrin, my voice squeaked. I cleared my throat.
“Yes. He has authorized me to pay you a quarterly allowance. I have the first payment with me.”
I could feel my jaw drop. I closed it firmly. “He doesn’t...” I cleared my throat again. “He doesn’t have to do that. I don’t need any money.”
“Yes, my lady, you do.” He was looking at me out of troubled hazel eyes. “If the earl had not been called to Paris so abruptly, he would have taken care of this matter before he left.” He was so sweetly serious as he lied to me that I didn’t have the heart to contradict him.
Adrian had not rejoined the army, nor had he been called to Paris abruptly. He had gone back to France of his own choice and in a civilian capacity, as I knew from the one terse note I had received from him on the subject. His ostensible reason for this return had been that the Duke of Wellington needed his assistance in dealing with the friction that was constantly breaking out between French citizens and the Army of Occupation. I knew the real reason why Adrian had returned to Paris, however. He had done it to get away from me.
“Is ... is his lordship remaining in Paris?” I asked anxiously.
Mr. Crawford looked at me with pity. “I am afraid that he is, my lady.”
Obviously this poor young man thought he was giving me grievous news. “Oh,” I said, afraid to say anything more lest my words betray my delight. I was happy here at Lambourn, and as long as Adrian stayed in Paris I could go on pretending that it was really my home.
“The Duke of Wellington has found the earl’s assistance to be invaluable,” Mr. Crawford assured me. “The duke himself is rather... blunt. The earl, on the other hand, knows how to be diplomatic. This is of great importance when one is dealing with the French.”
This was excellent news. Let Adrian stay in Paris and be a diplomat. However, I still did not want to take his money, and I said so.
“I understand from Mrs. Noakes that you need a new winter pelisse,” Mr. Crawford said.
“There is nothing wrong with my pelisse! It may be a little shabby, but it is perfectly warm.”
“My lady, the Countess of Greystone cannot wear clothing that is a little shabby.”
“No one sees me.”
“The tenants see you. The people in the village see you. How do you think it
“My lady.” Mr. Crawford was a young Scotsman who took his position very seriously. After Adrian’s father had died, Adrian had pensioned off the old earl’s man of business and had employed Mr. Crawford. Mr. Crawford was of impeccable lineage, but he was also the middle child in a family of nine. He was intensely grateful for the position and tended to speak of Adrian as if he were the second coming of the Messiah.
“You poor thing,” I said as I took in his frozen appearance. “Go right upstairs. There is a fire going in your bedroom and Robert will bring you some hot tea.” He gave me a grateful smile, murmured a few polite words about my graciousness, and disappeared up the stairs in the direction of the bedroom he always used.
He looked better when he came into the drawing room an hour later. I was waiting for him and we went into dinner.
Mr. Noakes and Robert served us Mrs. Noakes’s delicious wine-sauce chicken. Robert came every day to help Mr. Noakes around the house, but he lived with an aged grandmother in one of the cottages on the estate grounds. The other servant was Nancy, who also lived in one of the cottages. She came to the manor every morning with her father, who saw to the garden.
“I have been in communication with the earl about you, my lady,” Mr. Crawford said as he took an abstemious sip of his wine. I had been admiring the large lump Robert was sporting on his forehead due to a fall on some ice, but these words captured my undivided attention.
“About me?” To my chagrin, my voice squeaked. I cleared my throat.
“Yes. He has authorized me to pay you a quarterly allowance. I have the first payment with me.”
I could feel my jaw drop. I closed it firmly. “He doesn’t...” I cleared my throat again. “He doesn’t have to do that. I don’t need any money.”
“Yes, my lady, you do.” He was looking at me out of troubled hazel eyes. “If the earl had not been called to Paris so abruptly, he would have taken care of this matter before he left.” He was so sweetly serious as he lied to me that I didn’t have the heart to contradict him.
Adrian had not rejoined the army, nor had he been called to Paris abruptly. He had gone back to France of his own choice and in a civilian capacity, as I knew from the one terse note I had received from him on the subject. His ostensible reason for this return had been that the Duke of Wellington needed his assistance in dealing with the friction that was constantly breaking out between French citizens and the Army of Occupation. I knew the real reason why Adrian had returned to Paris, however. He had done it to get away from me.
“Is ... is his lordship remaining in Paris?” I asked anxiously.
Mr. Crawford looked at me with pity. “I am afraid that he is, my lady.”
Obviously this poor young man thought he was giving me grievous news. “Oh,” I said, afraid to say anything more lest my words betray my delight. I was happy here at Lambourn, and as long as Adrian stayed in Paris I could go on pretending that it was really my home.
“The Duke of Wellington has found the earl’s assistance to be invaluable,” Mr. Crawford assured me. “The duke himself is rather... blunt. The earl, on the other hand, knows how to be diplomatic. This is of great importance when one is dealing with the French.”
This was excellent news. Let Adrian stay in Paris and be a diplomat. However, I still did not want to take his money, and I said so.
“I understand from Mrs. Noakes that you need a new winter pelisse,” Mr. Crawford said.
“There is nothing wrong with my pelisse! It may be a little shabby, but it is perfectly warm.”
“My lady, the Countess of Greystone cannot wear clothing that is a little shabby.”
“No one sees me.”
“The tenants see you. The people in the village see you. How do you think it
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