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Lucy Carlyle’s hands felt sweaty as she stood at the back door of Portland House, clutching her singular bag. She’d been able to hide her application for the permission from her scowling mother who had wanted Lucy resuming her job with Mr Jacobs even though a string of accidents at his factory had cost Lucy most of the people she held dear. Becoming a domestic servant had been something she and Norrie had talked about often, how they would get to wear nice clothes and not have to worry about cost-cutting measures that caused machines to go rogue.
For Lucy though, there was another perk. Such positions came with quarters in the grand houses they were to serve. It meant an escape from her mother, an escape from her insults and scowls. So, when Norrie had been left permanently disabled from Jacobs’ cost-cutting measures and had pleaded with Lucy to get out while she still could, Lucy had hunted down applications and sent one off to Portland House.
Getting accepted had felt unbelievable. It still felt unbelievable. Lucy was sure when the door would be opened to her she would be met with a scowling glare and the remarks that she had misread the letter sent to her, that the position was not hers.
She swallowed thickly as she knocked on the door.
It took a few moments for the door to be opened to her. A tall man stood there in a pristine suit. He looked her up and down.
“Mr Barnes?” Lucy managed as steadily as she could.
“Yes. Miss Carlyle?”
“Yes. I’m the new kitchen maid.”
Barnes nodded. He moved the door aside to make space for Lucy to enter and she was so desperate to please that she didn’t hesitate to step through into the servant’s domain. There was a brown tiled floor beneath her feet and plain white plaster walls surrounded her. Even with one glance down the long corridor, Lucy could tell she had stepped into a rabbit warren of rooms. Everything that was required to run such a grand house was there, tucked away out of sight so it did not offend the eyes of his lordship or his guests.
“I take it this is your first employment in a grand house,” Barnes said, beginning to lead Lucy down the corridor.
She fell loyally into step behind him.
“Yes. I don’t really know how it all works, I am afraid.”
She waited for the moment Barnes turned around and dismissed her for that admission. Instead, he pointed her toward a room tucked at the end of the corridor. It was a dining room with a simple wooden table and modest fireplace. Lucy supposed that would be where she was to eat for the length of her employment, however short.
“As kitchen maid, you will answer to our cook, Ms Ward. Ms Ward answers to our housekeeper, Mrs Wade, and everyone answers to me as I am this house’s butler. You will be expected to complete your duties in good time, to a high standard and without being seen by the earl.”
Barnes paused, his eyes playing over Lucy. There was an unmistakable sternness in them, a look Lucy knew well, and yet she didn’t get the impression he wanted her to fail. Rather he was hoping she would be the best fit for such a position.
“His lordship was orphaned as a young boy,” Barnes continued, “and as his father’s only male heir, inherited the title of Earl of Portland when he was just six. It meant his instruction on how to hold such a position was rather… sparse and what little instruction he did receive has been warped somewhat by the way maturing minds can change such memories.”
Lucy could do nothing but nod, feeling a pang of sadness for her new employer. She had done what little research she could on him and knew he was young and unmarried but little else. To know he had had been orphaned so young…
“It is the duty of the staff in every great house to ensure standards are maintained,” Barnes continued. “The pride and honour of a title is often sustained by its staff and that is even more truthful about the staff at Portland House. We must maintain the boundaries his lordship has no qualms about crossing and ensure everything is done in the proper way.”
Hastening to agree, Lucy promised she would do all she could to make sure she stayed in line. Barnes thanked her. He stood, collecting up two books from the wooden mantlepiece.
“I took the liberty of asking Mrs Wade to lend these to you,” Barnes said. “They are the Fittes Manual of Proper Housekeeping and the Serving Girl’s Guidebook. These will be your bible and you must follow these to the letter, no matter how his lordship tries to lead you astray.”
The stern-faced Mrs Wade had taken Lucy up to a room in the attic where all the staff were to stay. He took her to a bedroom with a small handwritten name label on the door. Wade added her name to it so the card read ‘Munro and Carlyle’ and told Lucy to change into the dress on her bed before reporting to the kitchen to help prepare dinner.
Within minutes Lucy was making her way back to the kitchen, wearing the plain blue dress that had been set out on the floor. Ms Ward appraised her as she entered and Lucy had felt very inadequate. The dress was a little too long for her but she would have no time that night to lift the hem. She had been told many times she was a plain girl that her only benefit was that her mother and sisters had each proven to be remarkably good at producing little ones. Ms Ward was a beautiful woman with long red hair that was attempting to curl out of the tight bun it was held in. Lucy immediately thought how wasted she was in the kitchens, how she should have been a model or an actress. Still, Ms Ward seemed more than content as she turned to the remarkably modest meal she was fussing over.
“His lordship has come back from a hunt. He won’t want to eat much tonight,” Ms Ward said, nodding toward the table. “Just two meals.”
“Two?” Lucy questioned before she could stop herself.
“His lordship and his valet. He lets his valet eat with him provided they do not have guests. It drives Barnes to madness.”
Lucy was reminded once more of what the butler had said about how the house staff had to maintain boundaries for his lordship’s sake.
Ms Ward gave a small laugh, pleasant and friendly.
“His lordship is a charmer. Barnes should have known that any valet selected for him could either be liked by the earl or approved of by him, never both. And Barnes, whether he admits it or not, is remarkably fond of his lordship. He won’t do anything to deny his lordship the companionship of Mr Karim.”
All Lucy could do was nod. She found herself remarkably glad she was not going to have much contact with this peculiar Earl of Portland. Best to stay in the kitchens where his charms could not lead her astray.
“Could you put that away please?” Ms Ward said, nodding toward a bowl full of clumping white powder on the table. “Bobby brought it to me and never thinks not to put it on the table where I am preparing food.”
Picking up the bowl, Lucy asked what it was.
“Salt of sorrel. Put it somewhere up and out of the way. It’s poisonous.”
Lucy nodded. She picked up the bowl, turning to put it away. Then a young man in a suit appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.
“Ms Ward, his lordship has returned early. Is there anything to take up to the table?”
“You can take the chicken in a moment, Ned,” Ms Ward said.
Lucy turned away, looking over the shelves to find somewhere that might be safe to leave the salt of sorrel. A moment later, she heard Ms Ward sigh.
“That boy needs his ears checking,” Ms Ward remarked. “Run off with the chicken and I haven’t had a chance to sprinkle the chopped egg over it.”
She gestured toward a bowl still sitting on the table.
“I’ll take it to him,” Lucy volunteered, picking up the chopped egg.
She raced through the servants’ quarters with both bowls, managing to catch Ned just as he was going up the stairs to the main house.
“You didn’t give Ms Ward chance to add the chopped egg,” Lucy scowled, passing him one of the bowls.
Ned juggled it for a moment, struggling to hold both the chicken and the bowl before nodding his thanks and heading out. Lucy made her way down the stairs and began down the corridor, looking to see if there might be somewhere she could safely store the salt of sorrel. She spotted a shelf in a room just across from the kitchen and moved toward it, glancing down at the bowl to check her run had not jostled the powder all over her hands.
Her stomach dropped.
There was no powder in the bowl. It was chopped eggs.
She given the salt of sorrel to Ned. And he was going to sprinkle it over the chicken and feed it to the earl and his valet.
Her first day on the job and she had just murdered her employer.
Lucy dropped the bowl. Then she turned, racing through the corridor. She heard a voice shout after her but she ignored them, choosing instead to pelt up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Lucy all but exploded into the dining room. One of the footmen dropped what he was holding, startled by the intrusion. Ned did not. He was in the process of sprinkling the salt of sorrel over the chicken. Lucy rushed toward him.
“Stop!” she cried, snatching back the bowl. “No one eat that chicken.”
All eyes fixed onto her. With the emergency ended, Lucy found herself standing there, panting. She felt very out of place. Her dress was modest and plain compared to the ornate dining room they were in. Golden trimmings and artful decorations surrounded her. She could imagine one set of cutlery on the table would be worth a year’s wages.
All four young men in the room were in suits, each looking pristine. Each wore matching looks of shock.
And one slowly stood from where he had been sitting at the table. He was a pale young man with grand, measured features. His dark hair was perfectly groomed and his eyes had a mischievous spark in them, like her arrival was the most fun he had had all week.
“Might I ask what is going on?”
Unsure of who he was, Lucy stammered out a response.
“I made a mistake, Sir, I passed-”
“My Lord,” a voice hissed.
Lucy looked past the pale young man who had spoken first to see, sitting opposite him, a young man with dark curly hair and thick glasses. He had his head tilted curiously as he took Lucy in. He rolled his eyes at the blank look Lucy gave him.
“You address the earl as My Lord, not Sir,” he remarked. “Really, Lockwood? Where did you find this one?”
“Same place I found you, George,” the pale young man replied. “Where all the normal people come from.”
The earl. The pale young man was the Earl of Portland, her employer. The employer she had almost killed. Oh, she was going to get fired and the reference would ruin her.
Well, if she was already ruined, might as well go out in style.
“You don’t call him, My Lord,” Lucy pointed out to George, who she had surmised had to be Mr Karim, his lordship’s valet.
“I have his permission not to,” George replied. “As fair as I know, you don’t.”
The earl seemed rather amused by the exchange.
“It was an honest mistake,” he remarked. “Your second one this evening, Miss. Might I ask about your first?”
Lucy swallowed thickly as she explained what had happened. She waited for his lordship to explode with anger but the smile on his face only deepened.
“Ah, so an honest mistake,” he remarked. “Vernon, Shaw, would you be so kind as to take our poisoned chicken and ask Ms Ward if she might prepare something else. Tell her not to bother with something grand. In fact, George, could you go and assist. One of your mother’s recipes would be perfect right about now.”
George got to his feet with a nod.
“My Lord, the valet doesn’t cook,” Vernon remarked.
“Obviously you have never seen George here in the kitchens,” the earl replied, ushering them all out.
“I will make sure Shaw washes his hands,” George added as he nodded his goodbye.
And then they were gone. Lucy was very aware it was just her and his lordship in the room, especially when he gestured for her to take a seat at one of the many unoccupied places at the dining table.
“I shouldn’t, My Lord,” Lucy told him. “I shouldn’t even be up here. It’s not proper.”
“Well, you look in quite a state,” the earl remarked. “I insist you take a few moments to collect yourself where someone can watch you in case you take a turn.”
His tone was not unkind but it was firm, telling Lucy he had no intention of letting her wander off alone until he was sure she had calmed down from the mad rush to save him and George from a poisoned chicken.
“I’ll pack my bags tonight, leave on the morning train,” Lucy said as she slipped into the chair beside the earl’s.
He sat down in his own seat, giving her a strange look.
“Whatever for?”
“I almost killed you.”
He shrugged it off: “An honest mistake. No harm was done. I can’t imagine what it is like to be new down there. My sister used to sneak into the kitchens with me and it all felt so busy and overwhelming.”
Lucy couldn’t stop herself from nodding.
“You’re Miss Carlyle, aren’t you?”
“Lucy,” Lucy found herself correcting automatically.
She immediately wanted to kick herself. It was definitely not her place to become so familiar with an earl. She wasn’t even meant to let him see her. But the kindness on his face, his disarming smile. She didn’t feel like she was talking to an earl. She felt like she was talking to a regular, untitled young man at some village fete.
“If I am to call you Lucy, you must call me Lockwood.”
“No. I mustn’t,” Lucy told him. “And you shouldn’t call me Lucy. Miss Carlyle is what is appropriate.”
“I see Barnes has already given you a talking to.”
He paused, looking down to the empty plate before him. There was a sadness on his face that Lucy found herself unable to ignore.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No. It’s the proper thing. And these things are meant to be done properly.”
“But you don’t agree with the proper thing?” Lucy questioned.
“I think, because I came to my title so young, I never got the chance to be reverent to the fifth Earl of Portland, my father. The earldom never seemed to be such a big thing. And while my peers are all old men who lived their lives as heirs and learnt to respect the title they had to be so patient for, I grew up with it. It is one of my worst traits, one I do not enjoy being brought to light. And, given that I am the last Lockwood, I rather enjoy hearing my family name. That is how I think of myself. Anthony Lockwood, first. Earl of Portland, second. So, if you wish for me to call you Miss Carlyle, I will. But I ask you to respect my wish to be called Lockwood.”
Lucy wanted to say no. She knew she should. Barnes had told her that was her role. It was part of her job.
But she couldn’t say no to him. One flash of that smile had cast a spell. And maybe it wouldn’t be all bad. George already got away with calling him Lockwood and the house had not imploded. And it wasn’t like she was going to spend much time with the earl. Her duties lay in the kitchen. He was never meant to see her.
“I suppose I can call you Lockwood.”
“You called for me, My Lord,” Barnes said as he entered the earl’s study.
George was already there, huddled in the corner like he nearly always was, reading. Barnes scowled at him, a silent reminder that he had other duties to attend to, but George didn’t look up from his book for even a moment. They both knew he was there with the earl’s permission and that the only person with the power to fire him was the earl himself.
“Yes. I wanted to discuss Miss Carlyle,” the earl replied.
Barnes nodded. He had been more than a little horrified to hear about the incident with the salt of sorrel. Many butlers developed a deep attachment to the families they served. They felt protective of them, of their honour and position. But Barnes knew that his dedication and protectiveness of the young earl was far greater than that of most other butlers. He had come to the house to replace a butler Lockwood had seen as a second father – a Nigel Sykes. Barnes got the impression that Sykes had been a rather unconventional man, chosen for the earl by his late sister, but that where Sykes might have failed as a butler, he helped the earl go from a boy into a well educated and generous young man. His death, which no one spoke about for his lordship’s sake, had affected the young man deeply and he had resented Barnes when he had first hired him. Still, Barnes had grown to see the earl as his own family and he hoped the earl felt like he could come to him with his concerns. He had been worried the young man would ignore any lingering feelings related to the near poisoning and the last thing they needed was for him to refuse to eat once more, as he had done on and off for several weeks after Sykes’ death.
“I have spoken with Ms Ward and she has impressed upon Miss Carlyle that she needs to be far more careful. I have also spoken to Bobby Vernon, the footman who took salt of sorrel into the food preparation area to ensure he does not set us up for such a slip up in the future.”
“I am glad to hear it,” the earl said. “But that is not what I wished to discuss with you. What positions for female staff do we have vacant?”
“None that need filling. As you know, My Lord, other great houses will have a far larger number of female staff because they have a far larger number of female occupants. As it stands, you do not generate too much mess, you have no bride or living female relative and you are yet to have any children.”
“And are those things required?”
Barnes raised an eyebrow, trying to predict where the young man was going so he might be able to head him off before he settled on doing something that would once more set the gossips on them.
“Generally, yes, My Lord. Why hire more staff when one has no need for them?”
“Then might I hire for myself a lady’s companion?” the earl asked.
From behind his book, George suppressed a laugh.
“Are you a lady, Mr Lord?” Barnes asked, stressing the last two words.
“Not last time I checked,” the earl conceded.
He sighed and a great silence settled over the room. Barnes studied him.
“Perhaps it is not my place but might I ask what has brought this on?”
“He wants to spend more time with Miss Carlyle,” George answered.
“Not to start any scandal,” the earl rushed to say. “I have no designs on her whatsoever. She is an employee and nothing more. But she seemed genuinely concerned for the safety of myself and George, not just for her own position, when she came to warn us of the poison. And there is something rather repulsive about all my female companionship being with people who have designs upon marrying me.”
Barnes studied the young man. Then he gave a stiff nod.
“I will have a look into what position Miss Carlyle could be promoted to. We might have need for a new housemaid.”
The earl smiled his thanks and politely dismissed Barnes. George kept his book over his face until he heard the butler’s retreating footsteps. Then he lowered it turning to Lockwood.
“An employee and nothing more?” George questioned. “That is not what you made it sound like just five minutes prior.”
“It is what Barnes needed to hear,” Lockwood assured him. “He never would have let me see Miss Carlyle again if he knew otherwise.”