Page 39 of When She Loved Me
Nicole stood, as lady of the house, to greet their guest, whomever he might be. He was about her height and slim, with a long face and not unpleasant blue eyes, she thought, if they’d but lose the look of horror.
Trevor clarified for Nicole and the others, “Timsby is my valet.”
Nicole was about to bid him a cheery good day, but the man spoke first.
“I don’t understand—my lord, what is happening here?”
“We are having tea, Timsby? Will you join us?” Nicole asked politely, imagining the natty man might need a few minutes to become accustomed to the earl taking tea with the servants.
Nicole hid a smile as his eyes bulged when Lorelei indicated the empty chair next to the tea table and asked him how he preferred his tea.
In a starchy tone, he advised, “I prefer my tea in the servants hall, and only when his lordship and lady have finished with theirs.”
Dear Lorelei’s face fell, and she glanced quickly to Nicole, but it was Trevor who said, his own tone making it very clear that dissention was not an option, “We are much less formal here in the country, Timsby. You’ll get used to it.”
“Indeed,” said the man, adjusting his perfectly unwrinkled collar.
Trevor lifted his hand to bring his valet’s eye toward Nicole. “This is my wife, her ladyship, Countess Leven.”
Timsby seemed then to notice Nicole for the first time, his eyes lighting only briefly at the pretty smile she gave him. He bowed his head in a servile manner and then attended the earl once again.
Trevor tipped his head to the man and looked pointedly at Lorelei. Nicole waited and finally the man, flustered and unsure, approached Lorelei and advised, “One lump, one drop.”
It was almost humorous then to see him take the chair opposite the little maid, looking around at all the other servants, as if he suspected this was only some trap laid for an unwary employee. Nicole and Ian exchanged grinning glances.
Everyone sat then, and conversation carried on, while Timsby sipped from the dainty cup and continued to cast cautiousglances around the room. Nicole bit back her smirk when she saw him reach for one of Abby’s soft almond cakes from the plate, and take little bites as he took it all in.
“But my lady,” Lorelei said then, reverting back to what they’d been in the middle of discussing, and which was ever-present on her mind, “what will we do about the dancing? It would be dreadful to only be able to watch, just because I do not know the steps.”
“Actually, I have given this some thought,” Nicole said. “Luckily, as we will hire the musicians, we can control what dances will be necessary to learn. I should think we can manage to teach you at least three between now and then.”
Lorelei’s receipt of this news was a wonderful thing to see, her eyes glossy with delight. Until she wondered, “Who is we? Who will teach us?”
“Um, well, I can teach you,” Nicole offered. “But we’ll need someone to play the piano to learn the steps to the time of the music. Does anyone play?” She glanced around. Ian gave a quick shake of his head. Charlie and Henry stared blankly at her. She moved her gaze around the room, about to raise her brow at Trevor, sure he must have had some basic tutoring, when she saw Timsby just lifting his hand, though not his arm, drawing her attention.
Nicole smiled at the valet. “Do you play, Timsby?”
“Passably, my lady,” he allowed, his eyes darting between Nicole and Trevor and Lorelei, still unsure, but seemingly pleased to be able to contribute.
TWO DAYS LATER, WHENtime permitted, Timsby sat down to the ancient pianoforte in the far corner of the second floor ballroom. He tapped a few keys experimentally, creating a sound that forced Lorelei to cover her ears and send him a wounded look.
Franklin commented, when his own cringe lessened, “Of course, it hasn’t been used or serviced in a decade, possibly more. I daresay the smaller piece in the music room might serve us better.”
Abby stood close, waving a duster casually, idly over the piano.
“But we cannot dance in the music room,” Lorelei protested.
Timsby offered, “If a tuning lever were available, I could tune it reasonably well enough to see us through the lessons.”
Nicole liked that he had, after his initial shock, settled right in to lesser House, as if he’d been here for years as the others. Abby had told Nicole just this morning that Timsby had been quite entertaining at the servants dinner last evening, once his early shyness had worn.
“We could likely scrounge up a wrench or a hammer, but I’m not sure about a tuning lever,” Nicole said.
“Unless...” Timsby said, lifting a finger as an idea struck him. He shimmied off the stool and onto the floor, crawling actually underneath the large instrument.
Lorelei and Nicole shared matching curious frowns.
“Aha,” said Timsby, while Henry had dropped to his haunches to see what had brought the proper man to his knees. Timsbyscooched backwards, out from under the piano, having retrieved something that had been attached to the underside. He stood before the interested group, waving a covered wooden box at everyone. He set this on the top of the piano, and announced, “Of course, in the city, piano tuning is a fine art, and those men are amply and regularly employed, running from house to house on a monthly basis.” He lifted the lid of the box, showing a set of wooden and metal tools, felt strips, and several pieces of a long tool that resembled tweezers, made to fit the hammers and other parts. “But at the country houses, it was usually up to the household staff to see to this task.” He lifted a few of the tools from the box, and then faced Nicole, “Give me a half hour, my lady?”
