“It’s of no consequence, Your Grace.” Miss Byrd lifted her red, pointed nose into the air with a rather impressive sniff. “I know when I am not wanted.” With that, she cast down her sewing and attempted to storm from the room, but the effect was marred when her sleeve caught on the doorknob.
“Don’t laugh,” Christiana warned Amelia. “It’s not nice of you to antagonize her. You know Hugh is fond of her.”
“Only becauseheis not obliged to spend all day with her. And whenever they do speak, she immediately agrees with everything he says.Ithink he is perfectly capable of being wrong, but she worships the ground he stands on and thinks I am the devil’s spawn.” She rolled onto her front. “Anyway, didn’t you have something you wished to speak to me about?”
“I need your help,” Christiana admitted. “Although I hesitate to ask you after your stunt earlier.”
“Oh, yes, Hugh informed me that you are both able to resolve your differences without interference.” Amelia rolled her eyes tothe ceiling. “But I know him, and he would have just avoided you until he thought himself to have mastered his temper. By which point, the original offense is almost always forgotten. I merely hastened things along a bit. Did it work?”
She looked so hopeful, Christiana was forced to give in. “Yes, but that’s not the point.”
“It seems like it should be.” Amelia grinned. “No matter. Save the details; I wouldn’t want to know them regardless. Now, what else do you need my assistance with?”
Christiana walked to a corner of the room, where an easel had been set up, a cloth thrown over the painting. She removed the cloth to reveal a rather pretty watercolor of a young lady standing beneath an archway draped in flowers. “You often paint portraits,” she said.
“Where possible. This is of my friend Lady Juliana. I sketched it while in Bath and completed it here.”
Christiana surveyed the painting with an analytical eye. Amelia truly was an accomplished artist. “Do you think you could paint a portrait of Hugh without his mask?”
Amelia came to stand beside her. “He refuses to have any portraits painted of him.”
“He wouldn’t know, and it wouldn’t be for display. But if I’m to dismiss Mrs. Partridge and Penwick, then I must have a replacement.”
Amelia’s eyes went round. “You intend to dismiss them?”
“I do.”
“Good. It’s about time.”
“Do you think you can do it? How long will you need?”
“If I’m diligent and commit most of my time to it, then perhaps a week. It will not be especially large, but for close quarters, that should be fine.” Amelia held up a finger. “But we must never tell Hugh of this.”
“As mistress of this house, it is my responsibility to hire new servants. I’ll oversee all the arrangements.” This, at least, she had experience with. With her father’s fluctuating finances and luck, she had consistently sourced and let go members of staff. And, given her father’s local reputation, she had often had to source said members of staff from further afield. “Hugh won’t discover my means, and if he does, then I will take full credit. The ideas were all mine.”
Amelia nodded slowly, chewing her lip. “It’s an ingenious way of ensuring anyone who enters the house is prepared in advance.”
“In an ideal world, this would be unnecessary, but we do not live in an ideal world.” Christiana frowned as she pondered what to do next. “Really, I want to begin integrating him into the community more. But how best to do it?”
“There’s a local carnival in a couple of weeks,” Amelia said. “It’s an annual occasion—Hugh never lets me go, but I’ve heard it’s a truly splendid sight. Fire-breathers and tightrope walkers and the like, and I think perhaps even a tame bear!” Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to attend. Do say you’ll convince him to go.”
“I’ll do my best.” Christiana considered the matter. The prospect of a carnival with the crowds and noise was distinctly unappealing, but it would be the perfect opportunity for the local people to get to know him. Particularly if some of the tenants were there—Christiana had seen first-hand thattheyliked and respected him.
That would be a start.
They knew him as a monster; she would make them see him as a man.
And then, perhaps, he would come to see himself as one too.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hugh scratched hisjaw as he read back over the missive he’d received from Mr. Arnold about the state of Barnsley Hall, which by all accounts was in severe disrepair. Arnold had contrived to meet with Mr. Stephens, the incumbent steward, whom he had described very favorably, and who had spoken fondly of Christiana.
With permission, Mr. Arnold would see about making the purchase, although he warned that it would take significant investment to bring the house up to scratch, and that Hugh might want to think twice about such a costly endeavor.
Hugh dipped his pen in the ink to write back that he would be purchasing the house regardless of cost, and that he trusted Mr. Arnold to make all the necessary arrangements.
Old Lord Barnsley might have to be strongarmed into making a sale, but if his financial situation was as dire as he had made it out to be, he would have little choice in the matter. Perhaps it would also be a relief, though he doubted it.