Dangerous Masquerade (Regency Masquerade)

After showing them where to leave them, she went into the kitchen where she found Mary. As she entered, Mary popped her head out of the cupboard she’d been looking in. Holding out her hands, she said. “I found these, madam, but they can’t be used. They’re all chipped and broken.”

Ria picked up the chipped pieces of blue pottery. They were inexpensive but pretty. She arranged them on the deep kitchen windowsills, stood back, and looked at the display, then nodded in satisfaction. After they were washed, they would look good there; a few chips didn’t matter.

Mary continued to list her finds. “It’s a good thing we stopped and got those supplies, madam. There is little in here but some tea, sugar, flour, and musty old spices. And it’s all spoilt. Shame we didn’t buy some pots and pans. Most of them are a disgrace. Though some might scrub up all right,” she admitted grudgingly.

Ria thought about their priorities. “We’ll do that today. I think this room plus two bedchambers are where we should start. That way we have somewhere cook, eat, and sleep.”

“There’s a small room at the back, madam. I can sleep in there or even in here by the fire.”

She looked in the room Mary was indicating. It was very dark and dismal with the only window high up on the wall. “It’s too small, and there’s no bed in there, Mary.”

As she saw the maid was about to argue, she put up a hand and said firmly, “I want you to sleep upstairs.”

Wasting no time, the women made a list of further supplies they needed. Ria gave the list to Matthews and requested he and Dawson go to Bishop Malton first thing the next day to purchase them. Then they started making the kitchen habitable.

By the end of the day, Ria was exhausted by the unaccustomed physical labor, but as she looked around the gleaming room that even smelled clean, she felt pleased with their efforts.

As Mary helped her into bed, now made with clean linen they had brought with them, the maid told her, “I’ve banked the fire, madam, and there’s bread for breakfast in the morning. We have enough food to last us about a week.”

Ria smiled in thanks, then bid Mary goodnight.

After a restless night, she got up early. As she looked out the window, she was just in time to see Matthews and Dawson setting off for the village.

Hearing unusual sounds coming from Mary’s room, she checked on her, only to find the maid bending over a basin.

Feeling her forehead, she was dismayed to find Mary was very warm. Ria gestured to the bed and told her maid, “You get back in there, and I’ll go and get you some tea and toast. Do you think you can manage to eat that?”

“I think so, madam, but I can go and make it.”

“No, you’re not well enough. I’ll do it.”

“But the fire has been banked. It needs to be restarted and—”

“It’s all right Mary. I watched you yesterday. I’m sure I can do it. If I have any problems, I will come and ask.”

At the unconvinced expression on Mary’s face, she said sternly, “Don’t get out of that bed. That’s an order.”

Feeling much less confident than she’d sounded, Ria went down to the kitchen. Shivering, she rubbed her hands together and stared at the range in the fireplace. She told herself I can do this; it’s not that hard.

Ten minutes later, she threw down the shovel with so much force it bounced. Her glower at the kindling resting on top of the ash had more flame and warmth in it than the fireplace. Blowing on the kindling like she had seen Mary do hadn’t worked. Nor had pushing around the ash and kindling with a shovel. No amount of coaxing or cajoling could convince the kindling to burst into flames. It just sat there, sulking. She was about ready to admit defeat.

“Good morning.”

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, Ria hastily got up from the hearth, futilely tried to brush soot off her skirt, then tucked an escaped lock of hair behind her ear.

In the doorway to the kitchen, she saw a young dark-haired gentleman dressed casually in buckskins, shirt, and loose greatcoat.

“Can I help?”

Casting a look of utter loathing toward the hearth she answered, “I’m trying to start the fire.”

The young man strode over to the hearth. Bending down, he picked up her discarded shovel and scooped up from the range her clumps of kindling and with them a thick layer of ash that he unceremoniously dumped into a nearby bucket.

At his sigh of satisfaction, Ria looked over his shoulder. Tucked at the back was a glowing clump of embers. To Ria, shivering with cold, they were like gleaming pieces of warm sunshine.

As she watched, the youth carefully layered the thinnest pieces of kindling on top of the embers, then a thicker layer. Next he reached for the bellows at the side of the hearth and very gently blew air onto the fire. To her chagrin, he had a lovely blaze within minutes.

Once it was going to his satisfaction, he turned back to her. “I saw smoke from your chimney last evening so came over to welcome you to the district. I am your nearest neighbor.”