A Wicked Gentleman by Jane Feather

hand and for a second was tempted to tear it in shreds and send them flying after their owner.
    But no. She could imagine a much more satisfactory revenge. She stepped back into the hall and closed the door with a slam.
    Harry had only just reached the pavement when the door slammed behind him, and he started at the sound, spinning around to look behind him. Flakes of paint from the door, dislodged by the violence of its closing, fluttered onto the steps. The new servants seemed on a par with the old, he thought, shaking his head with a flicker of reluctant amusement. But at least he hadn’t been driven away by the old man’s blunderbuss. One should be thankful for small mercies. He took the reins from Eric and mounted his horse. He’d know what to expect on his return.

Chapter 4
    R IDING THE TIDE OF HER INDIGNATION , Cornelia stalked into the kitchen, where she knew she would find the others. “Who was that at the door, Nell?” Livia asked, backing out of the inglenook where she’d been examining the chimney, directing Morecombe to push a broomstick up as a high as he could to dislodge any birds’ nests.
    â€œThat, my dear, was Viscount Bonham,” Cornelia informed her. “And a nasty piece of work he is.” She exhaled noisily. “Arrogant, insulting, presumptuous. He informs you that he will be calling upon you tomorrow to discuss a matter of urgent business.”
    â€œDear me,” Aurelia murmured, coming out of the pantry with a dusty armful of jars of preserves. “Lord knows how long these have been there.” She set her burden on the now-scrubbed deal table and dusted off her hands. “So you didn’t care for the gentleman then, Nell?”
    â€œIs it that obvious?” Cornelia said with a sardonic smile. “He took me for a servant, addressed me as his ‘good woman,’ and demanded to see my mistress!”
    Aurelia went into a peal of laughter and was joined by Livia. “Look at yourself, Nell,” Livia said. “You look like a servant. We all do.”
    Cornelia examined her friends, both of them dusty, swathed in grimy aprons, hair tucked away beneath protective scarves, faces smudged with, in Livia’s case, soot, in Aurelia’s, cobweb residue. She glanced down at her apron, put a hand hesitantly to her headscarf, then burst into laughter. “You’re probably right. But even so he had no right to make assumptions. And no right at all to his manner. People should be polite, and most particularly to servants.”
    â€œWhat d’you want done with these, mum?” One of the twin retainers gestured to a box of china she’d just put on the table.
    Livia peered at the contents of the box. “They’re all mismatched, but look at this.” She lifted out a sauce boat. “It’s Sèvres, look how lovely it is.” She carried it to the wide sink and poured water over it from the jug. “I wonder if there are any more pieces.”
    Aurelia went to examine the box. “Where do they come from…uh…Mavis?” she hazarded.
    â€œIt’s Ada, mum,” the woman corrected stolidly. “And they’re all bits o’ broken sets. Lady Sophia wouldn’t throw any of ’em away, but she’d never ’ave an unmatched set on her table neither.”
    â€œThat explains it.” Livia came back to the table. “Let’s see what else we’ve got. Oh, look, there’s a paper knife at the bottom here.” She took the slender knife out and held it up. “It’s bone I think…oh, my goodness.” She peered closely at the blade. “Look at the engraving.” Her eyes were wide as she held the object out to her friends. “It’s positively indecent.”
    Cornelia took it and gazed closely at the engraving. “It’s scrimshaw, I think they call it. The kind of carving that sailors do to pass the time on long voyages. But, oh