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Gallant Waif. Anne Gracie
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“I regret it, ma’am, but I cannot.”
“What do you mean, boy?”
He shrugged indifferently. “I don’t employ any indoor servants.”
Lady Cahill sat up in bed, deeply shocked. “What? No servants?” she gasped. “Impossible! You must have servants!”
“I have no interest in the house. I’ve bivouacked in enough dam—dashed uncomfortable places in the last few years and now it’s enough for me to have a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in. I have no intention of forking out a small fortune for a horde of indoor servants, merely to see to my comfort, even if I had a small fortune to fork out, which as you know I do not.”
Lady Cahill was appalled. “No indoor servants?”
He shrugged again. “None but my man, Carlos, and he sees to my horses as well.” He held up his hand, forestalling any further comment from her. “There are only those servants you brought with you yourself. I’m afraid you’ll have to get them to wait on you. Only I sent them to stay in the village at the inn—all except for your dresser and maid. They can see to your needs as best they can.”
Lady Cahill snorted. “You won’t see Smithers demeaning herself by heating water.”
He shrugged. “Get your other maid to do it. She seems capable enough.”
“What other maid? What are you talking about, boy?”
Jack sighed. “Grandmama, don’t you think it’s time you stopped calling me ‘boy’? I am past thirty, you know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, boy! And stop changing the subject. What other maid are you talking about?”
“The little thin creature in the dreadful black clothes. I must say, Grandmama, that I am surprised that you haven’t noticed them. You’re usually so fastidious about your servants’ appearance. And how is it—” his voice deepened with indignation “—that you allowed the girl to almost starve herself to death? She swooned last night in the driveway and there was no one to assist her.”
“Swooned?” said Lady Cahill, watching him narrowly.
“Fell down in a dead faint. From hunger, unless I miss my guess. She’s nothing but skin and bones, with the most enormous eyes. Pale skin, curly brown hair, looks as if a breeze would blow right through her, a tongue on her like a wasp but, apparently, scared stiff of spiders.”
Jack halted, suddenly aware that he had said far too much. He knew from past experience that his grandmother could add two and two and come up with five.
“Frightened of spiders, is she? That surprises me. I wouldn’t have said that that young woman was afraid of much at all. I would’ve said she has a deal of courage. But she’s not my maid,” Lady Cahill added finally. “Is that what she told you?”
Jack frowned. “No,” he said slowly, thinking back. “I suppose I rather jumped to that conclusion.” His eyes narrowed, recalling Kate’s performance of a few minutes ago. “If she isn’t your maid, who is she?”
“Her name is Kate Farleigh.”
“I know that, ma’am. She did inform me of that. But what is she doing here?” Jack hung on to his patience.
His grandmother shrugged vaguely. “Now, how should I know what she is doing, Jack? You know perfectly well I haven’t left this room since I arrived last night. She could be picking flowers or taking tea. How the deuce should I know what she is doing, silly boy?”
Jack gritted his teeth. “Grandmama, why has this girl come to my house?”
The old lady smiled guilelessly up at him. “Oh, well, as to that, dear boy, she had no choice. No choice at all.”
“Grandmother!” Jack’s lips thinned.
“Now don’t get tetchy with me, boy; it doesn’t work. Your grandfather used to rant and rave at me all the time.”
“I fully understand why, and heartily sympathise with him!” her undutiful grandson snapped. “Now enough of this nonsense, Grandmama. Who is she?”
“Her name is Kate Farleigh and she is the only daughter of my goddaughter, the late Maria Farleigh, née Delacombe.” In a few pithy sentences, Lady Cahill put Jack in possession of the bare bones of Kate’s story, as she knew it.
He frowned. “Then she is a lady.”
“Of course.”
“Well, she doesn’t behave like one.”
“I saw no sign of any lack of breeding,” said his grandmother. “A temper, yes. Glared at me out of those big blue eyes of hers—”
“Not blue. A sort of grey-green.”
The old woman repressed a grin. So he had noticed the colour of her eyes, had he? “Whatever you say,” she agreed. “The gel glared at me, but there was no sign of panic—stayed as cool as you please as I whisked her off to heaven-knew-where.”
His eyebrows rose at this. “What do you mean, you whisked her off?”
“Oh, don’t look like that, Jack. It was the only possible thing. You said yourself the girl was on the verge of starvation. She was in dire straits. She is an orphan with no blood kin to turn to and has not a penny left in the world, unless I miss my guess.”
Jack frowned, stretching his bad leg reflectively. “I still don’t understand.”
“The girl has far more than her share of stubborn foolish pride. Just like her dratted father in that respect. Maria’s family wanted to make a huge settlement on her when she married him, Maria being their only child, but he would have none of it. Didn’t want it to be thought he was marrying her for her money. And look what has come of it! His own daughter dressed in rags and almost starving! Faugh! I have no patience with the man!”
“But Kate…er…Miss Farleigh, Grandmama,” he prompted.
“Said she wasn’t interested in taking charity from me or anyone else. Well, I had no time to stand around bandying words with her in her poky little hovel. So I kidnapped her.”
“You what?” Jack stared at his grandmother in amazement. Truly, she was an outrageous old lady. His lips twitched and suddenly he couldn’t help himself; the chuckles welled up from somewhere deep inside him. He collapsed on the bed and laughed till his sides hurt.
His grandmother watched him, deeply pleased. It was the first glimpse she’d had of the beloved grandson who had gone off to the wars. A scarred, silent, cynical stranger had returned in his place, and until she saw him laughing now, with such abandon, she had not realised how frightened she’d been that the old Jack had truly perished for ever in the wars.
Something had shattered the deep reserve he’d adopted since he came home from the Peninsula War, crippled, disinherited, then jilted. He’d remained unnaturally calm, seeming not to care, not to react. Except that he’d withdrawn into himself and become a recluse.
Now, in the space of an hour or so, Lady Cahill had seen her grandson boiling with fury, then laughing uninhibitedly. And a slip of a girl seemed to have caused it all. Lady Cahill thanked heaven for the impulse that had caused her to call on Kate on the way to Leicestershire. The girl could not be allowed to disappear now.
The old lady pushed at Jack’s shoulders, which were still heaving with mirth. “Oh, get out of here, boy. I’ve had enough of you and your foolishness this morning.” She spoke gruffly to cover her emotion.
“It’s time I got dressed or Smithers will be having hysterics. It’s clear to me that this place of yours needs a woman to set things in order, so I suppose I must shift myself and set to work. See if you can get me some hot water,