“You do?” Belle replied, her voice faint and vaguely horrified. “How?”
“Oh, never mind that!” Crecy said, sounding impatient now. “The point is that what does go on is powerful. If you can get him into your bed, you’ve a far greater chance of getting into his heart, and that is point four and five!” she added, her tone fierce.
“You’re beautiful, Belle, inside and out. You just have to make the man see that. Once he realises what he has in you, perhaps he’ll focus a little more on the here and now and a little less on the past.” Crecy sighed and put her arms around Belle, leaning her head on her shoulder. “It’s not going to be easy, I imagine, but, then, nothing worthwhile ever is.” She paused then and looked up at Belle, her lovely lavender grey eyes enquiring. “You do think he’s worth it, don’t you, Belle?”
Belle nodded, finding that there was no question of that in her heart, at least, despite the terrible start to their married life.
“I do,” she said, smiling and hugging Crecy in return before frowning at her in concern. “And when did you get so wise?” she demanded. It was a real question, she realised. Crecy spoke almost as though she’d faced something similar, or at least thought it through. But surely that was impossible?
Crecy just shrugged, though she looked a little wary. “Oh, well, you know how I love to fix broken things,” she said, with an airy wave of her hand. Belle nodded, accepting the fact as it was true enough, though a niggle of anxiety lingered.
“Well, then?” her sister demanded, giving Belle a little shove. “What are you waiting for?”
Belle took a breath and got to her feet, smoothing down her dress.
“Oh, and that’s another thing,” Crecy added, eyeing Belle’s serviceable rather than elegant day dress. “A good soldier is always smartly turned out. Speak to Violette about sorting out a new wardrobe. If you’re going to win this particular war of hearts, you’ll need to go into battle wearing a suitable uniform!”
***
Belle headed downstairs, wondering where her husband might be hiding himself today and how to go about finding him.
“Good morning, Lady Winterbourne.”
Belle turned her head as she descended the stairs to see the butler waiting for her, and the rest of the household staff standing in neat lines. She ground to a halt, feeling out of her depth, horrified and actually rather touched at the formidable display.
Garrett walked to greet her. “I hope you will forgive the presumption on my part, my lady, but I felt perhaps you would like to make the acquaintance of the staff?” He gave her a warm smile before adding in an undertone. “And we all wish you very happy, and are very glad indeed to welcome you to Longwold.”
Belle blinked, as this had been said with such sincerity that she felt a little overcome. “Thank you so much, Mr Garrett,” she said, feeling dreadfully shy and inadequate in front of what looked like an ocean of staff.
Belle did her best to tread what she knew was an important line of noblesse obliges between friendliness and over familiarity as she greeted each member of staff in turn.
The marquess’ steward was first: an older man with a paunch and a serious air, he seemed to look upon Belle with an approving eye. Perhaps judging, quite correctly, that she was not a woman to fritter away his lordship’s wealth on clothes and jewels and gambling, or anything else of the kind.
Charles was next, as Winterbourne’s valet, and was introduced as Mr Davis. As she took his hand to greet him he slipped a piece of paper into her palm with a discrete wink, and then grinned. Assuming this would be information regarding her husband, she slipped the paper into the pocket beneath her skirts and carried on down the line.
The housekeep and the cook were next, and two more different women it was hard to imagine. Mrs Puddleton was as warm and round as a freshly baked loaf of bread and brought with her a no-nonsense, motherly aura that Belle could imagine warming to in short order. Pleasant visions abounded, of visiting the kitchens and being plied with cakes and scones fresh from the oven.
The housekeeper was another matter. A tall, sparse woman without an ounce of spare fat on her lean frame, her eyes glittered with shrewd intelligence and no little judgement. Whilst not exactly hostile, Belle could see there might be a skirmish or two to get over before they could reach an accord. Refusing to be intimidated despite her lack of experience, Belle gave Mrs Scorrier a cool nod.
“I shall look forward to speaking to you in greater detail, Mrs Scorrier,” she said, holding the woman’s eye. “As I’m sure you are aware, I have no experience in managing an important household such as this. I am, however, a quick study, and I’m sure with your obviously expert assistance, I shall take the reins without causing an upset to the smooth running of the household.”
Mrs Scorrier pursed her lips, and for a moment Belle had the impression that the entire staff was holding their breath. Apparently, she had passed this first engagement without a scratch, however, as the housekeeper nodded. Her smile was not exactly warm, but her eyes lost a little of their suspicion as she spoke.
“I’m sure we’ll deal together admirably, Lady Winterbourne,” the woman replied, which, from the soft sigh of relief that came from Garrett, appeared to be a sign of approval. Thank heavens.
After that, there was an endless parade from the head maid, through to the abigails – though, of course, she had met those already - to upper footmen, lower footmen, house maids, kitchen maids, scullery maids, laundry maids, coachmen, grooms, and stable boys.
By the time they were done and the staff dismissed, Belle felt positively giddy and rather exhausted.
“May I suggest tea in the parlour?” Garrett suggested, apparently deciding Belle was in immediate need of sustenance.
“You may indeed,” Belle replied, feeling Charlie’s note burning a hole in her pocket.
Whilst she was waiting for the tea to arrive, she fished it out and unfolded it. The writing was scrawling and hard to read but said simply, “Sparring. The ballroom.”
Belle smiled and slipped the note away. Sparring, she deduced, was the training part of the process that preceded boxing.
Drinking her tea so fast that she scalded her tongue, she was about to rush off in search of her husband when Aunt Grimble walked in. Belle took a breath. She had been both looking forward to and dreading this moment, but it was best to strike while the iron was hot.
The woman immediately launched into her demand that one of the better bedrooms be given over to her use, and vented her indignation that the housekeeper would sanction no such change until Belle had given her consent.