Page 14 of A Baron's Disguised Lady
“What a lovely bracelet that is, Miss Stuart,” the maid said, pointing to a gold band, engraved with the letter “T.”
Lavinia took it out, slipping it onto her wrist and smiling.
“Yes, it’s… very special to me, this one,” she replied, and as she readied herself for dinner, she wondered again how she might alleviate the baron’s sorrows, even as she knew how easily she might upset him.
Chapter 5
“And he appeared at the door, just like that?” Horatia asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
“It was quite remarkable, wasn’t it, Lavinia? When your grandfather arrived out of the blue like that. At first, I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to do with him, but the way he was… he truly wanted to make amends,” Lavinia’s mother replied.
They were having dinner in the grand surroundings of the wood paneled dining room, where the table could easily have sat thirty guests. The place settings sparkled with the finest cutlery and glassware, and the late evening sun was streaming through the windows, illuminating the portraits and fine pieces of furniture around the room.
Lavinia was sitting next to the baron, but he had barely said two words to her all evening, the conversation being carried forward by Lavinia’s mother and the dowager, who seemed to have no end of things to say to one another.
“It’s just extraordinary. But such a blessing for you. I’ve thought about you so often over all these years gone by. It’s just wonderful to have you back here,” the baron’s mother said.
“And it’s wonderful to be here. I’d resigned myself to a life of… poverty… but when my father arrived on that day… I knew it wasfor the best. It’s not been easy, of course, but we’ve managed. Haven’t we, Lavinia?” her mother said, and Lavinia looked up and nodded.
“Oh, yes, admirably so,” she replied.
She was not really listening, distracted by the myriads of cutlery and glassware laid out in front of her. The table setting was a far cry from the rustic lay out of the servant’s hall in her previous employment, where a single spoon and knife had served well for whatever was placed in front of her.
Her grandfather had tried to teach her some of the finer points of dining, but Lavinia was confused, and as the butler placed a tureen of soup on the table, Lavinia reached across to help herself.
“He’ll serve you,” the baron said, and Lavinia looked at him in surprise.
Her mother and the dowager were continuing their conversation, oblivious, it seemed, to the exchange between Lavinia and Archie. Lavinia blushed, knowing she had made yet another faux pas. It was the myriad of little things she got wrong; which knife to use, or what title to address someone by.
When her grandfather had received a visit from a priest, she had accidentally referred to him as “your Holiness,” elevating him to the See of Rome, much to the clergyman’s dismay. Now, she satback, allowing the butler, whom she had discovered was named Hargreaves, to serve her from the tureen. The portion was not large, and Lavinia wondered as to the properness of helping herself to seconds.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking in confusion at the spoons laid out in front of her.
One was a teaspoon, another rounded in a circle, another an oval. She picked up the oval shaped spoon—the only one she recognized—only for the baron to tut.
“The round one for soup,” he said, and Lavinia picked it up and began to eat.
The butler had poured her a glass of wine, and she took a drink to steady her nerves, slurping at the glass as the baron gave her a disdainful look.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want some more, Your Grace? I mean My Lord?” Lavinia asked, reaching across for the bottle, but the baron held up his hand.
“Let Hargreaves serve it. He’ll pour it properly,” he said.
The butler looked at Lavinia with a sympathetic expression, stepping forward to take the bottle and top up his master’s glass. The baron was behaving very differently to his mother, who hadappeared to tolerate Lavinia’s failings, rather than judge them. Despite reminding herself of what the baron had suffered in the previous months, Lavinia could not help but think him rude for the way he was behaving.
“Do you treat all your guests like this?” she asked, and the baron looked taken aback.
She had not meant to address him in such a harsh tone, but it felt to Lavinia as though she could do nothing right. She was trying her best, but elaborate table settings and the etiquette of when to pour the wine were simply alien to her. She did not think she would ever get used to her new position, and the more she tried to fit in, the more she felt a failure.
“I… I don’t need to. None of my previous guests have behaved like you,” he retorted.
It was the first time he had made more than a cursory response to her, and Lavinia looked at him angrily. Now, he really was being rude—sorrow or not—and she glared at him as she pushed her empty soup bowl aside.
“Does my behavior really displease you? Have I purposefully set out to make you angry?” she asked.
He looked slightly taken aback, as though he was used to deference rather than outright response. As a maid, Lavinia would not have dared answered back if her mistress hadchastised her. But here, they were on more equal terms, even as Lavinia knew she was a guest in the baron’s home.
“I suppose not, but… trying to get into my sister’s bedroom earlier, and now… this,” he said, waving his hand as though her collective faux pas constituted an offense.
