They picked up gloves and implements and left to join their friends.
Soon the light faded and dusk settled over the estate. Hedgerows and trees bristled with noisy activity as sparrows and other smaller birds settled for the night and squabbled over the best twig to roost upon. Dawn thanked the men for their work and sent them home to their families. Then she wiped her hands on her apron and returned to the cottage.
She hung her apron over the back of a chair and picked up a clean gown, the lavender striped one again. A brief pang shot through her chest. She didn’t have a closet full of pretty gowns to wear to dinner with the earl. Would he mind, or was she daydreaming to even think he might cast the briefest romantic inclination in her direction? She was staff after all, although not treated like staff. His concern for her was at odds with the perpetual frown and his lack of belief in her work.
And he had touched her neck, whether with teeth or chin, and it had sparked a riot within Dawn.
“Foolish,” she muttered for possibly the thousandth time since setting foot on Ravenswing land, and headed out the cottage door with her canine companion. The earl was probably bored with the lack of new company and enjoyed unsettling her.
Nurse Hatton met her at the patio doors. One would never call the nurse diminutive, even though she was short in stature. Years had added to her girth, which called to mind photographs of the aging Queen Victoria. Red hair had faded to a dull copper and was tucked under her crisp white cap. Laughing blue eyes regarded Dawn.
Then she stuck out her hand. “Marjory Hatton, pleased to meet you, and do call me Marjory.”
“Dawn Uxbridge, and the pleasure is mine.”
The nurse had a firm grip like a man’s but a large smile on her rounded face that immediately settled Dawn’s nerves.
“Master Elijah and Lord Seton are playing cards with Lady Lettie. The earl suggested I show you to the bath, safe in the knowledge none of the menfolk would peek.” She winked and nudged Dawn.
It had never occurred to her the earl might peek. Was he so lonely and starved of feminine company that he would spy on a bathing employee? A blush heated her skin. Foolish.
That made a thousand and one times she had uttered the word.
“This way.” Nurse Hatton, or Marjory, took Dawn by the arm and guided her course, much like she had done with Lettie after she was injected with something. The nurse might have lacked height, but she was a solid force, and Dawn had the distinct impression following was required, not optional.
They walked through the parlour and up the sweeping staircase. Mouse was instructed to wait at the bottom of the stairs, and the wolfhound heaved a sigh and settled on the rug in front of the entrance hall hearth. At the top of the stairs, Dawn paused for a moment to stare up at the light well.
Marjory tugged on Dawn’s arm, but on seeing the source of her fascination, relented. “When you’ve lived here for years, you forget what the house looks like to fresh eyes.”
The two women stood in silence, staring upward. Dusk coloured the sky beyond the stained glass. Rich reds and deep orange became the background for the twisting vine and its ravens, and lit the whole with a fiery luminescence.
“It’s beautiful with dusk shining behind it. Does the house contain many such surprises?” Dawn asked as the light faded outside.
Marjory laughed. “Many surprises lurk around here from both house and occupants.”
They reached the landing and took the stairs to the east wing, opposite where Lettie played cards with her brother and nephew. They stopped at the first door on the next landing.
“This is a guest room you can use,” Marjory said as she pushed the door open.
Within, a maid poured a bucket of hot water into a hip bath that stood before the fire. The tin was lined with a sheet to protect her skin.
“I’ll wait outside for your dirty things, miss,” the maid said as she bobbed a curtsey and retreated out the door.
The rest of the room reminded Dawn of her old bedroom in Whetstone. A double bed was laid with a plain grey coverlet. A wardrobe with mirrored double doors stood against one wall. Under the window sat a dressing table with delicate curved legs. The wallpaper was striped in dove grey and deep purple and reminded Dawn of the people missing in her life. This was a room designed for mourning with the gentle but sombre colours.
“Now, would you like privacy and silence, or company and gossip?” Marjory took the clean dress and shift from Dawn and tossed them over the screen in one corner.
Dawn glanced at the bath. Part of her cried for privacy and quiet time, but another part of her whispered that gossip might be both entertaining and informational. She was curious about Lettie and her brother, and she suspected the nurse wasn’t as tight-lipped as Hector. Which raised another question.
“Company, please. And if I might be so bold as to start the conversation, did Hector demand a kiss in exchange for your mail?”
Marjory burst into laughter. She waved to the screen. “Get out of those dirty clothes and I’ll tell you about that old dog and his tricks.”
Dawn went behind the screen, removed her dress, and flung it over the top. Next her fingers worked the laces of her corset loose to enable her to undo the front busk. She made the mistake of sniffing her chemise as she pulled it over her head. It would need to be washed. Her drawers pooled around her feet and she kicked them to one side.
Someone had set out a silk robe, and she pulled it over her naked body. She was somewhat embarrassed to shed the covering in front of Marjory, but she was a nurse and there was something about her manner that reminded Dawn of Aggie, the housekeeper at her family home. Dawn stared at a tendril of steam rising from the water. The faint trace of lavender made her inhale.
“Why don’t you hop in, love, and I’ll just hand your chemise off to the maid to be laundered.” The nurse swiped the dirty garment from the screen.
“Thank you.” Dawn dropped the robe and put a foot in the bath while Marjory ducked out into the hallway.
By the time the nurse returned, Dawn was immersed up to her chin with her eyes closed.
“Now, Hector.” Marjory pulled a chair over and sat next to the bath. “The old goat did indeed claim a kiss. And then I swatted him for being so bold.”
Marjory picked up a tin dipper and wet Dawn’s hair. “What else do you want to know?”
So many things, like did Lord Seton see her as a nuisance he wanted rid of or a woman he wanted to know? And why had he not married to provide the estate with a lady and his nephew with a maternal figure? But such questions would reveal she found the earl both handsome and perplexing. “Have you looked after Lady Letitia for long?”
The nurse breathed out a sigh as though remembering days long ago. “Ever since I was a young lass.”
Dawn frowned. That wasn’t possible. Lettie looked to be in her early twenties. By contrast, Marjory appeared to be in her sixties. If she had care of her charge since she was a lass that would make Lady Letitia closer to eighty. That was an impossibility.
“You mean since Lettie was a young girl?” If Lord Julian had died just before Elijah was born, Lettie would only have been five or six years old. No wonder the tragedy had marred her young mind.
A frown pulled on Marjory’s face for a moment. “Yes, silly me. I meant I have lived here and worked for the family since I was a lass.”
“Have you known Hector all that time?” He likewise seemed a permanent part of the estate’s family.
“Oh, yes. I well remember him from the very first day I arrived here. Such a fine lad with thick black hair that swept off his forehead like a raven’s wing. Tall and muscled he was from working out in the fields. All the girls would swoon when he swaggered past.” Marjory giggled and it made her seem years younger.