happiness.
“Dear Matthew Peter,” she said. “I’m merely exorcising an old daemon.”
“You speak in the oddest way.” He gave her a cup of tea, and his hand trembled a little. She smiled when she accepted the cup, and her eyes stayed with his when she raised it to her lips. She was quite aware that she had called him “dear.”
Lost and Found
Susan and Matthew Peter accompanied the Singers to the magnificent new West India docks. They meant to help with the luggage, but they were instantly redundant. The Maenad’s crewmen swarmed over the stowage and hauled it onto the ship, leaving the lubbers to stare, mute and amazed.
“Thank you, Gray,” Mrs. Singer said. A breeze played with loose strands of her uncovered hair, and her eyes were like green hills in sunlight. She seemed sad, drawn into herself. “Thank you for everything.” She handed Susan a gratuity in an embroidered silk purse. The purse alone was too fine a gift.
Susan thought, and now two quid from his wife .
Mrs. Singer joined Leopold on the gangway. He touched his lips to her forehead and never looked back to the dock or to Susan.
She wanted to hate Marta Singer, but where was the fault in simply having been chosen? She could tell that Leopold loved his wife. And Susan had made her choice, too. Already, there was a change in that tender lump of pain that lived in her breast. It was cooling, becoming a hard emotionless knot.
This ship was about to take Leopold Singer away from her forever. Like the Duchess of Gohrum, Susan would have her own revenge. She would do Leopold Singer the greatest violence possible: she would forget him.
“Those Jack-tars are admirable men. They’ve saved us an hour,” Matthew Peter said. “Let’s walk a bit before getting back to the ‘manse,’ as you call it.” He smiled at her the way Leopold had smiled at his wife.
“We had better go back now,” she said. “The duchess wants the carriage for morning calls.”
At Gohrum House the downstairs was in a state. Amy, the latest girl assigned to bring the duke his coffee, had left her position without notice. There was gleeful speculation as to the details of her disgrace. Oh, the oppressed pettiness of Susan’s world! Servants’ gossip and a few hours of freedom every two weeks seemed all she had to look forward to.
“Miss Gray,” Mr. Peter said. “Now that his grace’s guests are gone, your services as a lady’s maid are no longer required.
Susan inwardly groaned. The duchess had likely devised some fresh torment for her. She should follow Amy and leave Gohrum House, but Matthew Peter patted her shoulder and looked at her with such compassion that her heart softened.
“You’re to be under-housekeeper again,” Mr. Peter said. “This comes from his grace, himself.”
That settled that. She wouldn’t repay the duke’s kindness by walking away. She suffered the duchess’s little tortures and thought of Leopold less and Matthew Peter more.
She and Matthew Peter went on in a kind of stasis for days, weeks, and months. He nearly did propose marriage once, but she got away from him before he could get the words out. After a year and a half with no further mention, she assumed he’d changed his mind.
Then the duke’s maid Cecily went the way of all the duke’s maids.
Their graces returned from Millam Hall, and the downstairs was busy with kitchen maids chopping and kneading and footmen polishing and counting plate. The duchess herself came down to the kitchen and cast her cold gaze over them all.
“Gray,” she said. The raucous clanging and banging stopped. “You will take Cecily’s place with the duke. Someone with your experience might be better suited to this task.” She said experience with a sarcastic twist.
That afternoon, Susan picked up the duke’s tray in the kitchen. There were two cups. “There you have it,” Cook said. “He likes his coffee with company, if you know what I mean.”
“Susan.” Matthew Peter
“Dear Matthew Peter,” she said. “I’m merely exorcising an old daemon.”
“You speak in the oddest way.” He gave her a cup of tea, and his hand trembled a little. She smiled when she accepted the cup, and her eyes stayed with his when she raised it to her lips. She was quite aware that she had called him “dear.”
Lost and Found
Susan and Matthew Peter accompanied the Singers to the magnificent new West India docks. They meant to help with the luggage, but they were instantly redundant. The Maenad’s crewmen swarmed over the stowage and hauled it onto the ship, leaving the lubbers to stare, mute and amazed.
“Thank you, Gray,” Mrs. Singer said. A breeze played with loose strands of her uncovered hair, and her eyes were like green hills in sunlight. She seemed sad, drawn into herself. “Thank you for everything.” She handed Susan a gratuity in an embroidered silk purse. The purse alone was too fine a gift.
Susan thought, and now two quid from his wife .
Mrs. Singer joined Leopold on the gangway. He touched his lips to her forehead and never looked back to the dock or to Susan.
She wanted to hate Marta Singer, but where was the fault in simply having been chosen? She could tell that Leopold loved his wife. And Susan had made her choice, too. Already, there was a change in that tender lump of pain that lived in her breast. It was cooling, becoming a hard emotionless knot.
This ship was about to take Leopold Singer away from her forever. Like the Duchess of Gohrum, Susan would have her own revenge. She would do Leopold Singer the greatest violence possible: she would forget him.
“Those Jack-tars are admirable men. They’ve saved us an hour,” Matthew Peter said. “Let’s walk a bit before getting back to the ‘manse,’ as you call it.” He smiled at her the way Leopold had smiled at his wife.
“We had better go back now,” she said. “The duchess wants the carriage for morning calls.”
At Gohrum House the downstairs was in a state. Amy, the latest girl assigned to bring the duke his coffee, had left her position without notice. There was gleeful speculation as to the details of her disgrace. Oh, the oppressed pettiness of Susan’s world! Servants’ gossip and a few hours of freedom every two weeks seemed all she had to look forward to.
“Miss Gray,” Mr. Peter said. “Now that his grace’s guests are gone, your services as a lady’s maid are no longer required.
Susan inwardly groaned. The duchess had likely devised some fresh torment for her. She should follow Amy and leave Gohrum House, but Matthew Peter patted her shoulder and looked at her with such compassion that her heart softened.
“You’re to be under-housekeeper again,” Mr. Peter said. “This comes from his grace, himself.”
That settled that. She wouldn’t repay the duke’s kindness by walking away. She suffered the duchess’s little tortures and thought of Leopold less and Matthew Peter more.
She and Matthew Peter went on in a kind of stasis for days, weeks, and months. He nearly did propose marriage once, but she got away from him before he could get the words out. After a year and a half with no further mention, she assumed he’d changed his mind.
Then the duke’s maid Cecily went the way of all the duke’s maids.
Their graces returned from Millam Hall, and the downstairs was busy with kitchen maids chopping and kneading and footmen polishing and counting plate. The duchess herself came down to the kitchen and cast her cold gaze over them all.
“Gray,” she said. The raucous clanging and banging stopped. “You will take Cecily’s place with the duke. Someone with your experience might be better suited to this task.” She said experience with a sarcastic twist.
That afternoon, Susan picked up the duke’s tray in the kitchen. There were two cups. “There you have it,” Cook said. “He likes his coffee with company, if you know what I mean.”
“Susan.” Matthew Peter
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