A Marriage 0f Convenience_Historical Regency Romance Read online

  ‘Doesn’t the undertaker do that?’

  ‘Lady Florence wouldn’t like strangers to handle her. I promised I’d take care of that task.’

  Colour crept under the man’s skin. ‘Quite.’

  ‘I’ve also taken it upon myself to inform the undertaker of her demise, and they should be here shortly. Lady Florence chose her casket and made her arrangements some time ago. Her wish is to lie in state in the morning room, so people can pay their respects. I hope you don’t mind me going ahead with the arrangements as Lady Florence instructed.’

  ‘On the contrary, it’s a relief to find someone efficient in charge. A woman with such good sense is a rarity and I’m much relieved. Are you sure the key to the cellar is missing?’

  ‘Yes … I’ve looked everywhere for it. I’ve also tried all the other house keys, and the door is too solid to kick it down.’

  Grace sighed when he left her to it. ‘A rarity, huh!’ she snorted, and rang the bell for Jessie to return.

  For once Lady Florence was unable to complain about her aches and pains, but lay there, silently. She was as cold as a lizard in winter. Hands, brown mottled by age, were held together in an attitude of prayer – a gold cross on a gold chain bound them together. She waited for the undertaker, her eyes partially open and gleaming from under slitted lids. They flickered in the candlelight but were focussed inwards.

  Jessie was reluctant to touch the corpse. ‘Tis said the departing soul of the dead might steal the spirit of those in attendance, so it can live its life over again.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Grace scoffed but she didn’t push it because as she removed the woman’s rings she noticed her fingers were already becoming stiff.

  She slipped the rings into her apron pocket.

  It wasn’t the first corpse Grace had seen and she wasn’t squeamish. All the same, when they turned the dead woman over and she made a gurgling noise the pair of them jumped, poised for flight.

  Jessie whispered, ‘Are you sure she’s dead?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask her? She might tell you.’

  When Jessie gave a nervous giggle, Grace grinned and drew on the threads of knowledge she’d gleaned from her father’s books and from snippets of loose talk when he’d entertained others of the medical fraternity. The subject of bodies and the ailments they suffered from was interesting rather than macabre, she thought, as she padded the apertures of Lady Florence’s body so she wouldn’t begin to smell unpleasant.

  Her father had mostly been matter-of-fact about such matters. ‘I wish all my students were as diligent as you,’ he’d said once, and then he’d sighed and spoiled the compliment. ‘A pity you weren’t my son instead of my daughter. However, we might be able to turn you into a useful midwife in time.’

  ‘Where’s the soul?’ she’d asked him, crushed by his casual downgrade of her from beloved daughter into inferior female.

  ‘The soul … hmmm … now, let me see. That’s a mystery to us doctors. Nobody can explain the soul but it’s invisible, and it’s supposedly bestowed on us by the Lord to keep us civilized and make us wise. Otherwise we’d be like the beasts in the field.’

  ‘But where does the soul go when people die, Papa?’

  ‘As I said, it’s a mystery. You must ask the reverend, he knows about such things … or thinks he does. Some scholars think it’s part of the heart, others that it’s stored in the brain.’

  Jessie jumped when Lady Florence rattled again, and Grace grinned. ‘It’s the juices in her body … like when you’re hungry. When we die our insides turn into a gas that helps to dissolve the flesh.’

  ‘Ugh! All that brandy inside her must have fermented and she thought she’d have a last fart. How do you know all this?’

  ‘My father was a doctor.’

  Grace tried not to laugh. When she’d first been employed she’d been shocked by the way servants talked so freely and crudely about such matters. Now she was used to it.

  The undertaker’s cart arrived with the coffin in a crunch of wheels on gravel and the slow plod of a horse.

  Grace’s former employer looked like a baby in her shroud and her bonnet, the ribbons tied in a neat bow to one side. She was lifted from the bed by two of the four men and then gently laid in the satin lined box, her head on a small pillow. They took her downstairs to the morning room, where her final bed was placed on a table covered with a black cloth. Grace strewed some dried lavender around the corpse.

  ‘A perfect fit, like a sprat in a jar,’ the senior amongst them said, and with a rather irreverent smile, he handed her the gold chain and cross and used one he removed from his pocket. ‘You keep that, Miss Ellis. You have to be careful because something valuable is likely to be stolen by the mourners so we use one of our own. ‘You’ve done a good job with her, lass. We’ll be back in three days, lessen you want one of my men in attendance. It will cost more though.’

  ‘Thank you, but no, we can manage and there is a man in the house if one is needed.’ Grace tucked a sheet trimmed with lace across Lady Florence’s shoulders. ‘You may go if you wish, Jessie. Thanks for your help.’

  ‘Good … because seeing the mistress like that is giving me the willies.’

  Lady Florence lay in state for three days while people came and went. The mourners and the staff talked in whispers. It was to everyone’s relief when the undertakers came to close the coffin, and Grace noted that the chain and cross was missing. She hoped it wasn’t one of the staff.

  ‘Would you wait outside for a moment?’ Grace said, though she could still hear them conversing in hushed whispers as footsteps lightly crossed the hall.

  Grace shut the noise from her mind and she gazed at the woman’s pale face. Tears tracked down her cheeks and she allowed herself a sob as she dried them on her apron. ‘There … you look lovely, just like a child sleeping in a cradle. Requiescat in pace, my Lady,’ Grace whispered.

  ‘A housemaid who knows some Latin, whatever next?’

  She spun round, her heart thumping. A tall man with grey eyes stood between her and the door.

  Her first thought? Surely it wasn’t the devil arriving to collect the old lady’s soul? Her glance went to his dark curls, searching for signs of horns. There were none. For certain he wasn’t an angel though. His face was too sharply angled, his gaze too steady, his mouth too firm. But then, she’d never seen an angel, and neither did she want to see one just yet.

  Altogether, there was a wickedly confident look to him. A fallen angel perhaps, she thought when he smiled.

  ‘I know very little Latin. Who are you?’ she blurted out, feeling all sorts of fools for being caught talking to a corpse, while at the same time being drawn to the stranger as though he possessed some magnetic attraction. She was annoyed with him – with herself, and for no reason she could think of.

  A card appeared between his fingers like magic. ‘LéSayres,’ was written across it in bold dark letters. She murmured. ‘Do you have a first name?’

  ‘Dominic.’

  When no more information was forthcoming, she asked him, ‘Are you Lady Florence’s nephew? We understood you were abroad.’

  ‘He is abroad. I’m John Howard’s business partner. And you are …?’

  She too could play that game. ‘Ellis … Grace Ellis.’

  A barely discernable, but slightly appreciative smile flitted across his mouth. He was about as relaxed as a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. ‘Ellis … ah yes … I remember. You must be the daughter of Dr Harold Ellis. John told me that Lady Florence thought highly of you.’

  The compliment pleased Grace and she smiled. ‘Lady Florence was a lively old lady, if a little eccentric. I liked her. Did you know my father?’

  ‘I knew of him.’

  She asked him before he got round to asking her, for she was almost sure he was going to. ‘Did he … owe your business any money?’

  He crossed to the coffin and gazed down at the occupier, amazing her with, ‘You mustn’t hold yourself responsible
for your father’s debt, Miss Ellis. His estate was disposed of amongst his creditors satisfactorily. We must not overlook his good points either. He was a man well-respected in his profession, and he carried out a great deal of charitable work – more than he could ever have been recompensed for had he been of a mind to charge a fee.’

  She was grateful for that touch of praise. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘The pleasure is mine.’ She tensed when he said, ‘As to your question, I had other business with your father.’

  Interest piqued, she gazed at the curve of his back. Soberly attired in a short, black cape and riding boots over dark-blue trousers, he carried a hat with a curled brim. As he turned away she caught a glimpse of his dark-blue damask waistcoat, which was topped by a white cravat secured by a gold pin. He was elegant and confident in his attire. ‘May I ask what that business was?’

  He turned, making a graceful arc on his feet so she imagined herself being swept into his arms and danced around the floor. Adroitly he changed the subject. ‘This is neither the time nor place. I’m sorry Lady Florence died before I had a chance to meet her. John Howard spoke kindly of her. Where will you go from here; have you given it any thought?’

  ‘I’ve been invited to go to Australia and dig for gold with two of the other servants.’

  His dimple deepened and his smile widened as his glance swept over her. ‘And will you?’

  ‘It’s a bit too adventurous for me. I would rather not leave England, but I may have no choice.’

  ‘There’s always a choice for a presentable young lady like you, Miss Ellis.’

  The only alternatives Grace could think of was to find a husband, throw herself on the parish, or …? She thought the unthinkable. It slid across her mind like slime and her skin crawled. No, she couldn’t … she’d rather die! ‘I can’t think of one at the moment.’

  ‘No relatives?’

  ‘None. One minute I was living happily with my father in a nice home, and the next moment I had no roof over my head, no means of support and nobody to fall back on. One of my father’s acquaintances recommended me for this position, which was kind of him.’

  ‘It was my partner, John Howard.’

  ‘I vaguely remember him. He came for dinner once or twice when my father was alive. And I saw him here at Oakford House on one occasion. His fingers ached and I put some salve on them. It was he who rescued me from the workhouse. He gave me the coach fare and a letter of introduction to Lady Florence. He had a stern expression on his face, but it was a kind gesture. I suppose I must still owe him for the coach fare.’

  ‘I doubt if he’d miss a few shillings, and if he did he wouldn’t be rude enough to remind a lovely young lady like you of the debt. It’s possible I may hear of another opportunity that would suit you when you leave here.’

  Grace turned fierce eyes upon him. ‘Bear in mind I will not consider anything … socially unacceptable.’

  For a moment his grey eyes widened, and then they filled with amusement. ‘That depends on your interpretation of what is acceptable and to whom?’

  She wanted to laugh too. She gazed at him, intrigued, wondering if he was married. Her face heated but she refused to place her palms over her blush to conceal it. Instead, she murmured, ‘It’s warm in here.’

  ‘Warm enough to wake the dead?’

  ‘Watch out if it does. Lady Florence has a fine temper on her if her rest is interrupted prematurely.’

  He chuckled when she gave a soft giggle, ‘I beg your pardon, Mr LéSayres. It wouldn’t do for me to encourage your peculiar sense of humour on this sad day.’

  ‘But you haven’t heard my proposition yet.’

  What was she thinking of, flirting in the presence of the dead? Not that Lady Florence would have minded. She’d enjoyed the company of men, and were she to be believed had entertained many lovers after her husband had died. That was before she’d become incapacitated and too demanding, so her servants kept leaving her employ. ‘I don’t know if I dare listen to it.’

  A discreet cough signalled the presence of the undertaker, who smiled when he noticed the chain and cross was missing. The lid was screwed down and they stood to one side as the coffin was lifted and carried outside on the shoulders of four men.

  ‘Did you say you have a proposition for me?’ she blurted out.

  ‘Be patient, Miss Ellis, for the moment you must curb your curiosity.’

  ‘The fact I was displaying any is an assumption on your part.’

  His smile came and went like quicksilver. She had to be satisfied with that small victory because the hall clock struck eleven.

  Only Grace would attend the funeral, the rest of the staff would remain behind to prepare the cold collation and sherry for the mourners.

  She waited until most of the mourners were on their way then joined the rear of the small procession and followed after the glass-sided hearse, pulled by two plodding black stallions. Tears filled Grace’s eyes. The coffin was decorated with an arrangement of yew tree branches, needled with dark green, the vivid red berries dramatic with their sticky black eyes.

  Grace drew in her breath when a cloud of yellow hammers flew out of the stubble. Field workers were spreading dung to encourage a good crop come spring. They removed their hats and bowed their heads in respect as the cortège passed.

  Dominic LéSayres lingered until she caught up with him. He handed her his handkerchief, concern in his steady gaze. ‘Will you allow me to walk with you, Miss Ellis?’

  She nodded since he couldn’t get up to any mischief here, even if he wanted to. ‘Yes … Mr LéSayres, you may.’

  They walked for a while without saying anything, then he said, ‘The countryside is colourful at this time of year.’

  ‘The days are drawing in and the nights are growing colder. I wonder what winter will bring.’

  ‘I’m sure it will offer some excitement in its season. Did you notice that the chain and cross was missing from Lady Florence’s body.’

  ‘The undertaker told me that mourners often take a keepsake at such times, so he uses an inexpensive substitute.’

  They looked at each other and smiled.

  Two

  The guests had departed and the staff had retreated to their quarters, there to mull over the events of the last few days and ponder on what their futures held.

  Dominic intended to do what he could to find alternative employment for them, to which end Miss Ellis’s insights and observations could be useful. His brother might take a couple of them into his household.

  Apart from his company, dinner was a miserable affair. The cook dished up a stew of stringy meat along with dumplings followed by a soggy bread pudding in a sea of lumpy custard.

  The two of them populated a dining room, where they shared a large table, a relic of when Lady Florence used to entertain. A candelabrum sent shadowy fingers to probe into the dusty corners.

  She apologized for the meal. ‘It was a wild rabbit Brian snared. It must have been old.’

  ‘Is that what it was … a rabbit?’

  Without a trace of a smile her head tipped to one side and she said quite seriously, ‘I can’t guarantee that, of course. It may have been a stoat or a squirrel, or even a wild pony from the forest.’

  ‘A pony?’ He stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was gulling him or just bordering on insane.

  ‘Perhaps not, I doubt if the cook would have been able to fit it in the oven,’ she said.

  Amused, Dominic began to laugh. ‘You nearly had me there. You’re an unusual young woman, Miss Ellis, and a delight to the eye I might add.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr LéSayres. Remember, you’re here to conduct business not to pass personal comment on my appearance, however much I might enjoy it.’

  Now there was an ambiguous sentence. The girl had sparked an interest in him, and he wanted to know her better. ‘Do you enjoy it?’

  ‘I’m a woman, of course I do, but your presence isn’t social, it’s business and
I’m a servant, and therefore, a poor host. If I were a lady I would compliment you on your waistcoat and your gold watch chain. I’m sure Lady Florence would have enjoyed your company, though.’

  ‘As I am enjoying yours … what position did you hold before you entered the service of Lady Florence?’

  ‘My position in life was that of being my father’s daughter, sir, at least … when he remembered he had one. I was not required to earn a living and there was very little difference between my duties then and now. Unfortunately, when he died, he forgot to leave me enough money to survive on and he would have preferred a son.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation I’m glad you were not his son.’

  She shrugged. ‘To suggest I need consolation over the matter is unkind. I like being female.’

  Dominic liked it that Miss Ellis didn’t display any false modesty, but he smarted a little from her put-down. He shrugged. ‘I feel as if I’ve shrunk to a height of six inches.’

  Her eyes widened. The colour was nothing more than dark in this light but he remembered them as being brown – not a dull old donkey brown but a delicious, glistening honey-brown guarded by the longest of dark lashes.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr LéSayres, I didn’t set out to belittle you. It’s been a long time since I entertained anyone. I have forgotten my manners and I hope, now that you’ve corrected me, that you’ll forgive me.’

  How could he ignore such a pretty plea, especially when she smiled so entrancingly?

  ‘I cannot resist that smile. Of course I will forgive you, Miss Ellis.’

  ‘Then I’ll try to avoid tripping over the six inches in height that I’ve reduced you to. I might squash you flat, then what would you do?’

  He laughed.

  ‘I’ll make us some coffee when I take the dirty dishes out, or would you prefer tea? The fire is alight in the drawing room.’

  He wasn’t surprised that her job here wasn’t clearly defined, considering the upheaval of the last few days. ‘I would prefer coffee, and also that the servants do the job they’re paid to do.’