Page 29 of The Widower Without a Will
Mrs.Chow said, “And secretary, too?You are kind to help him in the meantime, but he must make plans to hire someone permanently, mustn’t he?”
He would hire someone, of course, and Martha would eventually go live with her niece.But she didn’t want to think about that.Measuring her delivery so as not to sound too eager, she said, “Perhaps I could broach the subject with him.Not overtly, of course, but to begin to suggest to him that you are deserving of your idle days now.”
Mrs.Chow looked at Martha for a beat too long before saying, “Yes, if you feel comfortable saying something like that, it is worth a try.”Then, looking back at the family portrait, she added, “You remind me of Lady Preston a little, you know.You are very steady in yourself.”
Was she?Martha more often felt as if she were calling on every reserve to stay steady against life’s headwinds.Such as now, when she should not ask—should not fan the flames of Mrs.Chow’s suspicions—and yet did: “What was Lady Preston like?”
“Very stubborn.Which was good when I agreed with her and bad when I didn’t.”Mrs.Chow smiled.“She was very dedicated to whatever she decided to do, and like Lord Preston, she had very strong ideas of what it was a person wassupposedto do.She loved her children, of course, and she and Lord Preston were very much in love.Did you know her father disowned her for marrying him?”
Martha hadn’t known that.“Was she of such high birth that marrying Lord Preston was a step down?”
“No, but he hired Mr.Chow and me.He might as well have hosted an orgy, if you asked Lady Preston’s father, for it made Lord Preston a dangerous renegade.”
“That’s terrible.”
Mrs.Chow shrugged.“That is life.”
Martha’s imagination floated away, painting Lord Preston’s marriage with the brush of star-crossed love.No wonder he was so devoted to Lady Preston if they had overcome so much in order to marry!“Is it true that he has never courted another woman since her death?”
“None that I have heard of,” Mrs.Chow said, “and everyone seems to want to tell me when they hear something scandalous about the family.”She pinned Martha under her gaze.“It has been fifteen years, though.If he finds happiness with someone else, I say it’s high time.”
She wouldnotsmile, nor would she blush, nor would she confess the cacophony of feelings she had about Lord Preston, even though she felt certain Mrs.Chow would not judge her for their indecorous behavior.“Friendships come and go in life.Perhaps he does not need to find final happiness with someone else to enjoy some companionship while sharing a path.”
Mrs.Chow nodded.“That too.Happiness is happiness, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”Although it did come in a million variations.Right now, Martha’s happiness from feeling understood by a new friend was hemmed in by her whirling questions about Lord Preston.Was she happy, or was she excited, or was she about to fall apart at the seams if she heard the wrong answer to her questions?She put on a smile for Mrs.Chow.“I am so grateful to have been welcomed at Northfield Hall while I make arrangements with my family.”
“We are glad to have you.”Mrs.Chow rose from the settee with a few creaks.“Now, I had better get back to work before Leyla thinks I keeled over.If you need help with that mending, let me know.Renee is a wonderful seamstress.”
“Thank you, but I like to have something to do.”Martha wished she had something more valuable to say—or something more sincere to express the feeling of friendship blossoming in her heart.She settled for “I have enjoyed your company.”
“People usually do,” Mrs.Chow quipped, and she exited with her basket.
Chapter Eleven
Maulviwassoundingbetterbut looking worse.Every time Martin visited, the other man seemed to have shrunk, his skin looking duller and duller against the fresh linens that the Widow Croft changed every morning.His face was almost all cheekbones now, without any fat to round out the smile that had greeted Martin all his life.
Smile he did, though, at Martin’s appearance, and his voice sounded as strong as ever when he said, “At last you have returned.I thought you must have replaced me already and forgotten all about me.”
“There is no replacing you.”Martin sank into the wooden chair upholstered in leather that Lolly had gifted Widow Croft’s household some decades ago.The sentiment was true: Maulvi had been a servant of Martin’s family since before Martin was born, and losing him was going to hurt Martin more deeply than losing his own father.
“You must replace me,” Maulvi said, the smile dimming, “for I know what happens if you are without a supervisor.You’ll decide we should grow peat.”
“That wasoneidea—and when I was all of twelve, I might add.”
“That you brought up again when you wanted to do away with our coal purchases.”
Martin allowed the man his ribbing.It was good to see him cheerful.
Maulvi asked, “Have you solved the problem of the cottages for the Beauchamps?”
Ah, but that was why they had rubbed along together so well all these years: at heart, they were both workhorses.“The problem of the cottages is a problem of physics as well as a problem of resources.”
“In other words, your pockets are too empty to do anything about it.”
Not empty.But Martin didn’t want to explain to Maulvi the dilemma of spending the small reserves of his bank account on purchasing new land versus leaving a financial legacy for his children.It was too depressing—and, unlike Mrs.Bellamy, Maulvi had too much of an interest in the children to comfort Martin that he was doing his best.
If this was his best, then Martin was neither a very good father nor a very good baron.
