Something Old, Rebecca Connolly [ebook reader for laptop TXT] 📗

to Mr. Granger if he has a promising candidate to interview. I do know that George is most anxious to return to his duties.”

Lily nodded, recalling the head footman’s statement upon their first meeting with him. “Do you foresee any trouble with the staff adjusting to a new butler?”

“Not particularly, madam. Particularly as George has no wishes to fill the position. If there are issues, I will settle them.”

“I want to make this perfectly clear,” Lily told her, straightening up as an earnestness rolled through her. “Should any member of the staff take issue with new members of the staff, or with Mr. Granger or myself, we are happy to write excellent references for them to seek new employment. I don’t want anyone to feel trapped in their circumstances.”

Mrs. Penrose smiled, though it seemed almost as pitying as it was kind. “Very generous, madam, but again, I do not foresee any problems arising. Our staff have been content at Pendrizzick, and I cannot think of either you or Mr. Granger ever becoming cruel or overbearing masters.”

Lily had to laugh at that, the idea a ridiculous one, which was undoubtedly the point. Whatever her complaints with Thomas in her marriage, she would never have considered him cruel or overbearing.

“No, we, neither of us, have that in our natures.” Other faults, certainly, but not those.

Lily turned back to her letters, a finger tracing the pattern of words on one. “Do you know if Mr. Granger is at home?” she asked without looking, afraid to seem too eager, too inquisitive, or too fretful.

“I believe he had a shareholder’s meeting this morning, but he would return when it was completed.” Mrs. Penrose shrugged a little. “I did suggest that the ride to Redruth might exhaust him, and that staying the night at the inn there might be preferable, but he insisted that he would rather be at home. I confess, I find it charming that he already considers Pendrizzick a home, despite being here only a few days.”

“We’re quite enchanted with the place,” Lily admitted without shame, looking at the housekeeper again. “Mrs. Penrose… I have never been to Cornwall, and I know nothing about the county, the culture, or the language. I’ve only lived in London and Hampshire, and in my family’s home, which exists in some state of barely existing at all, and know very little about the Society outside of those places. Could you help me?”

Mrs. Penrose gave her a steady look, her lips curving. “Madam, I’ve never found myself in the sort of company that you and your husband would be expected to keep, so I cannot speak to that precisely. But I will say that we are fairly removed from London here, and not everyone goes to London for the Season.”

Lily nodded as she listened, finding herself settling with even that small bit of information. She had no particular issue with Society, as it were, but she did prefer to be away from it all. The gossip, the fuss, the pressure to always be on display… If she could be out of London and be in a place where the only person she knew was her husband, who seemed to have woken from some deep slumber that had held him since their marriage, why would she not eagerly accept such an opportunity?

She gnawed on her lip briefly in thought. “And what does Pendrizzick mean?”

Mrs. Penrose chuckled once. “End of the brambles.”

Lily snorted a laugh, covering her nose and mouth. “Does it really?”

“Yes, madam.” The housekeeper beamed with real pleasure, if not outright pride. “The story goes that the original family, the St. Daveys, opted to keep the surrounding brambles on their land as the house was constructed, in an attempt to prevent envious neighbors and tenants from trespassing. When the house was completed, it was named in tribute to the journey one must take to arrive.”

Lily laughed heartily at the tale, wrapping an arm around her stomach as she imagined the family’s delight in naming their home so perfectly. “Is that true?”

Mrs. Penrose could only shrug, still smiling. “The story has been passed down for generations now, so one may never truly know.”

“Well, I think it is simply delightful.” Lily gestured to the ceiling above them. “Does that explain the tribute to brambles and berries throughout the house?”

“I believe it does, madam.”

“How utterly perfect,” Lily said with a sigh. “Thank you, Mrs. Penrose. I know it cannot be your wish to indulge my ignorance, but I do so appreciate it.”

Mrs. Penrose gave her an almost matronly smile. “Mrs. Granger, if I may be frank, I am delighted to have the house inhabited again and to have such fine people to serve after so many months of absence.” She inclined her head in respect, humbling Lily in a single motion. “If you’ll excuse me, madam, I’ll pass your wishes on to Mrs. Clare and the kitchen staff.”

At Lily’s nod, the housekeeper left the room, and Lily returned to her halfhearted letter to her sister Rosalind. It would take ages for her to receive it, given her husband’s stationing in the Indies, but she was owed a letter, there was no question.

She struggled to find the most optimistic words possible for the state of her life, even with her current state of hope. Rosalind was well aware of the nature of Lily’s marriage, but her own marriage was one of passionate love and tenderness, which would surprise anyone who had known Rosalind or Captain Riverton in years past. They had bickered worse than siblings and had shown no pleasure in each other’s company, yet one always seemed to circle the other. No one believed they did not fancy the other, but the abject refusal of either to admit such had led to speculation of ever finding resolution.

There had been a great rush of gossip when Rosalind had suddenly married the man and left with the captain as he shipped out, and the more romantically inclined ladies in Society had swooned with the story.

Lily