the silent lesson. During their journey he had learned of her limited experience with servants, so he must look for opportunities to inform her of how to accept their service.
“This is my new companion,” Mother said amidst the flurry of breakfast being distributed around the table. “Her name is Newfield.” She took a sip of coffee. “Now, today I should like—”
The door opened and Johnson brought in the mail on a silver tray. He paused and glanced between Mother and Greystone, then carried the tray to the viscount. Edmond guessed the senior servants were often confused when Greystone was in residence, for Mother had ruled the house since Father had died some twenty-three years ago. When Greystone reached his majority six years ago, other than his entering Parliament, nothing changed. But then, Edmond’s eldest brother had always been an agreeable fellow, taking Mother’s dominance in stride.
When Johnson delivered the tray to Greystone, Edmond experienced a hint of satisfaction. Then a hint of shame. Scripture instructed a man to honor his parents, but it was rarely an easy task with Mother.
“Ah, good news.” Greystone held up a letter. “Uncle Grenville is coming for a visit. Should arrive the first week in November.”
“What?” Mother set down her coffee cup with a clink. “How dare he invite himself—”
“Not at all.” Greystone raised a hand to stop her. “I invited him.”
“You invited him?” Mother breathed out an angry sigh. “Well, then, I suppose I have no say in the matter.”
Edmond seized a bite of bread to keep from cheering. Perhaps Greystone was at last taking his rightful place as head of the family.
Greystone did not respond, but Richard, ever the peacemaker, leaned toward Mother. “You began to tell us your plans for the day. Is there any way Mary and I may help?”
Mother answered with one of her impatient “harrumphs,” and everyone fell to eating with no further comments.
Edmond’s thoughts darted here and there with unreasoning emotion not far behind. Perhaps Uncle Grenville’s visit was an answered prayer, if one could call a man’s fervent hopes a prayer. Father’s younger brother was a London barrister, Edmond’s desired profession. He had begun his law studies at Oxford until Mother insisted upon his joining the dragoons. How little she knew about her youngest son, for he would far rather face courtroom battles than the military sort. But the prospect of gaining his uncle’s patronage sent hope bubbling up in Edmond’s chest, and he coughed to clear his throat rather than choke on a bite of sausage.
Eyebrows lifted, Miss Newfield glanced his way as if trying to discern his distress. He returned a small shrug to dismiss her concern, adding a slight grin to show his appreciation. In every way this young woman exuded kindness, and he prayed Mother would not destroy her gentle spirit.
* * *
“Newfield.” Lady Greystone’s sharp tone cut into the silence that had descended upon the breakfast table. “Your mourning attire is incomplete.”
Anna glanced down at her dull black bombazine gown, but resisted touching her hair to see if any strands had escaped their pins. “Forgive me, my lady. I will be happy to—”
“Your black bonnet will do for out of doors, but when you are indoors you must wear a black lace or crepe scarf.” Lady Greystone eyed her briefly before returning to her eggs. “I shall have Hudson find something for you.”
Anna had yet to meet Hudson, but she knew her to be Lady Greystone’s lady’s maid. “I thank you—”
“This afternoon we will make our rounds of the village. Wear your walking shoes.” Her perpetual frown deepened. “You do have walking shoes?”
“Yes, my lady.” Anna’s heart lifted. Perhaps she would find people to whom she could minister in the village, as she had in Blandon.
“Edmond, you will accompany us.” The viscountess eyed her son as if daring him to decline.
The major did not
Learning to Kill: Stories