Page 19 of The Jilted Duchess
Mr. Laroux took a deep breath and released it slowly through his clenched teeth. He shifted a little, adjusting his arms straining above his head. “I believe we have indeed tried ‘down a little’, Your Grace.”
Alexandra bit her lip. “Perhaps we should try a little higher, then.”
Laurence, the footman, huffed from beside the butler. “Beggin’ your pardon, Your Grace,” he panted slightly. “But I don’t think we can go any higher.”
“Oh. No, quite right, Laurence. Okay, drop it there and let’s see.”
The two men released their burden and stepped back in relief. Alexandra tilted her head, examining the ornate oil painting now hanging in the entrance hall. “I don’t know. Does it look a little crooked to you?” She mused. Behind her, she heard a hiss of annoyance followed by a barely suppressed yelp of pain as Mr. Laroux elbowed Laurence sharply.
Alexandra allowed herself a small smile before composing herself and turning to her staff. “No, that will do. Thank you both for your help. I appreciate it’s not strictly your duties but that damned delivery man just abandoned it by the door and sped away. I’ve half a mind to complain to the gallery.”
“A disgrace to be sure, Your Grace. You simply cannot find the staff nowadays,” Mr. Laroux agreed mildly.
“It’s nice, though, don’t you think? It really lends a certain dignity to the entrance hall.”
“Beautiful, I’m sure.”
“I like the hounds,” Laurence added, still rubbing his wrist.
Alexandra nodded. “You can go about your duties now, Laurence. Thank you.”
Laurence bowed slightly and turned to leave them before Alexandra’s voice called him back. “Has that boy from the village arrived yet? The one we offered a position last week?”
“Jeremy Barnes, Your Grace. He’s expected at the servant's entrance at noon.”
“Excellent. I’m sure you’ll do a grand job teaching him his new duties.”
Laurence puffed out his chest in pride. He had expressed great delight in being given the important task of training a second footman, though Alexandra suspected he was just as glad to not be the most junior footman in the house anymore as he was for the extra two guineas per year that came with his rise in position. “I’ll certainly do you proud, Your Grace.” He strutted off toward the kitchen, and Mr. Laroux shook his head.
“It was certainly an interesting idea to give the burden of training to young Laurence there, Your Grace.”
Alexandra smiled fondly. “I rather think it will be the making of him, Mr. Laroux. Now, I’d quite like to talk to you about the gardens if I may. And perhaps you’ll be so kind as to fill me in on how the rest of our new additions are settling in.”
The butler obliged, and the two began to walk down the front steps and out into the warm sunshine. “Young Jenny seems to be getting on well with Mrs. Hopsted, Your Grace. She has learned her duties very quickly and is most diligent in them. She seems quite sharp and willing. Gracie is also competent enough. She’s much quieter and prone to some, ah, histrionics, shall we say? But I am sure that will subside once she’s used to her new environment.”
Alexandra nodded. “That’s good to hear. Please do keep an eye on Gracie and ensure she’s not having too hard a time. And the other girl? Tilly, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, Your Grace. She is also doing well. Not quite as studious as Jenny, perhaps, but then Mrs. Carson is teaching her enough arithmetic to be able to follow recipes and order from the butcher and the greengrocer and the like, and she seems to be picking it up. Mrs. Carson is glad of the help in the kitchen to be sure.”
Alexandra nodded, making a mental note to review the situation in a few months and ask Cook whether she was managing or would benefit from a scullery maid as well as a kitchen maid. She was about to ask Mr. Laroux about the new valet when his expression transformed into one of sincere fondness, and he continued unprompted.
“Now, young Riles. He is certainly a fine young man. Very diligent in his duties, very sincere and hard working. I think he’ll train up into a strong valet indeed. He is fitting in very well. You know he shone all the shoes in the house the other day, entirely unprompted. Every one of them. What a lad.”
Alexandra smiled. “I’m certainly glad to hear it, Mr. Laroux. I’m sure he’s benefitting greatly from being under your guidance.”
Mr. Laroux coughed and turned away slightly, but not before Alexandra glimpsed the pleased smile crossing his face. “You flatter me too much, Your Grace. Now, what were your thoughts about the gardens?”
Alexandra accepted the change of subject, and turned to steer them towards the orchard. Now that she had redecorated most of the house and finally erased the dowager’s rather outdated and fusty sense of style from the place, she was turning her attention to the gardens.
Hector had complimented every change she had made, and to her surprise seemed to be entirely sincere every time. Rather than making her happy, Alexandra had been surprised to find that his blind faith in her and acceptance of her choices had merely frustrated her instead. She simply could not work him out and her failure to do so was infuriating. How was he so different to any man she had ever known before?
It was strange, really. Alexandra suspected that she was living any wife’s dream - a humor-filled husband who gave her free rein over his estate and finances and seemed to approve of every choice she made. And yet she couldn’t help but be on her guard whenever he commented on the new decor, new servants, new supply contracts, new anything and everything. Her father had battled her every step of the way with everything she did for him and the family, even though it was all to keep them afloat and to keep herself and her sisters looking respectable. She dreaded to think what James Balfour’s response would have been if he had come home to find a vast new oil painting in the hall.
She knew Hector would enjoy it, if only for the sheer quantity of hounds rather than the prestige and glamour she thought it lent the house. So why was she so frustrated when she pictured his rough, rugged brogue commenting “och, there’s a fun scene, lass. Nicely chosen.”
Alexandra stopped at the entrance to the orchard, shaking her head firmly to displace all thoughts of Hector Lennox. At Mr. Laroux’s quizzical glance, she pretended to bat a bee away from her face. “Right, Mr. Laroux. About the fruit trees. I’ve been having some thoughts.”
“I think that could all be done rather easily, Your Grace. Though, as I mentioned, you would have more insights from Mr. Drake. The gardener. The one to whom insights about the gardens come far more easily.”
