“What seems to be the problem?” Brynn asked coolly.
“She is in the family way.” The housekeeper pointed at the maid’s stomach, adding in a revolted tone, “Look at that!”
The thin nightdress did nothing to disguise the girl’s thickening belly, while a chamber pot stood beside an unmade cot, attesting to at least one bout of morning sickness.
With effort, Brynn swallowed her shock. The sweet, timid Meg was the last person she would have suspected of bearing a child out of wedlock. She had never noticed the girl’s condition until now, perhaps because she’d been so wrapped up in her own affairs.
“I found her lazing abed, too ill to work,” the housekeeper went on. “Then I discovered this and dismissed her.”
“I beg you, milady,” Meg entreated, “don’t let her-”
“I told you to hush!” Striking savagely, Mrs. Poole slapped Meg’s face, making her cry out.
Outraged, Brynn moved between them. “That will be quite enough, Mrs. Poole!”
“A box on the ears is not nearly enough! She deserves to be soundly thrashed for her wicked behavior.”
Brynn narrowed her eyes. “If you dare strike her again, you will be the one dismissed.”
Mrs. Poole pointed again at the quaking maid. “I won’t have this shameless wanton in my employ!”
“I don’t believe that is your decision to make.”
The housekeeper drew herself upright, quivering with rage. “Choosing the household staff has always been my purview. Mine and Mr. Naysmith’s.”
“Perhaps it was, but I am mistress here now.” Brynn glanced down at the girl. “Do get up, Meg. The floor cannot be comfortable.”
Trembling, Meg obeyed. “Please, milady…” She latched desperately on to Brynn’s arm, evidently seeing her as a savior. “What will become of me if I’m thrown into the street?”
“You will not be thrown into the street,” Brynn assured her.
The housekeeper made a rude, scoffing sound. “She will not even disclose the father of her bastard- if she even knows his name.”
Meg’s shoulders stiffened, while her weeping subsided the slightest degree. “Certainly I know it. I just won’t tell you.”
“You disgraceful jezebel,” Mrs. Poole interjected, “luring some man into sin-” She broke off suddenly, flushing as she glanced over Brynn’s shoulder, toward the doorway. “M-my lord…”
Lucian stood there, surveying the three women curiously.
Brynn felt herself stiffen. It reflected badly on all three of them that not only had his lordship’s peace been upset, but that he was required to visit the servants’ quarters to investigate the cause. Yet discomfiting Lucian wasn’t what worried her; rather, his presence roused her protective instincts.
She had no idea how he would react to such a major transgression by one of his young servants- whether he would endorse Meg’s dismissal or show leniency because of his own rakish past. It would be better for the girl, Brynn realized, if she could handle the problem herself. She would no doubt have a fight on her hands with the housekeeper, though.
“That will be all, Mrs. Poole,” Brynn said before the woman could speak up. “You may go.”
The housekeeper raised her chin stubbornly. “I should like to hear what his lordship has to say about the matter, my lady.”
“We needn’t trouble his lordship.” She sent Lucian a faint smile. “I regret the disturbance. It will not happen again.”
He raised an eyebrow and gave her a long look, then glanced at the housekeeper, who had pursed her lips as if she had swallowed vinegar.
“I trust you understand, Mrs. Poole,” Lucian said mildly, “that Lady Wycliff is mistress here. She commands household matters.”
His implied threat made the housekeeper’s starch wilt. “Yes, of course, my lord,” she answered meekly.
As rigid as stone, Mrs. Poole turned away, daring only a brief, scathing glance at Meg before she left the room.
Brynn flashed her husband a genuine smile this time, grateful that he had chosen not to undermine her authority. Her influence was shaky enough, given that her marriage to Lucian had been so contentious in the past. The servants could not have failed to see the chill between them.