The Lazarus Curse by Tessa Harris

Great Fogg, and had not been badly affected, so Lydia had informed him of the havoc it had wrought to man, beast and vegetation. She told him how there was much work to do to remedy the devastation it had left in its wake.
    Lupton had listened attentively, asking pertinent questions when deemed necessary. He seemed sensitive to the welfare of tenants, asking about their conditions and terms of tenure.
    “I hope you won’t think me impolite if I say it was clear from the way they regarded you this afternoon that your workers have much affection for you, your ladyship,” he said, pushing his empty dessert plate away from him.
    Lydia hoped that in the candle glow her guest could not see her blush. She glanced at Howard, who was hovering attentively by the sideboard.
    “My father instilled in me the fact that we are mere custodians of this land. We are looking after it for future generations and must treat those who assist in that task with due respect,” she replied.
    Lupton nodded his approval of the sentiment.
    “So will you be joined by Mistress Lupton in the cottage?” she asked as Howard and another manservant cleared their plates.
    At this question, however, the new steward looked grave. “I am afraid my wife is deceased,” he replied.
    Lydia felt awkward. “I am sorry. I did not mean . . .” The color rose in her cheeks once more.
    Lupton shook his head. “ ’Tis my fault, your ladyship. I should have made my state plain. My wife died in childbirth less than a year ago.”
    “My condolences,” said Lydia solemnly.
    Lupton gave a tight smile, as if remembering his late wife. “She was giving birth to our first child, a boy.” He paused, then added: “I lost them both.”
    In the candlelight, Lydia thought she saw Mr. Lupton’s eyes moisten. She averted her gaze for a moment to allow him to compose himself.
    “It is hard, being on one’s own,” she said gently. Her tone sounded knowledgeable, and he recognized she spoke from experience.
    Lupton took a deep, juddering breath. “That it is, your ladyship.” His large shoulders heaved, as if he was trying to shrug off a great sadness. “But you have your son, I believe.” His mood lightened.
    Lydia nodded and played with the stem of her wineglass. Howard filled it without being asked. “Indeed, I do, and a great comfort he is to me.”
    Lupton smiled as Howard filled his glass. “I am looking forward to meeting him. Perhaps he would come for a ride, with your permission, your ladyship.” His bewigged head gave a slight reverential bow.
    “I am sure Richard would like that very much,” she replied, smiling.
    An hour later they had both retired to their separate chambers. Lydia lingered a little longer than normal and did not call for Eliza, her maid, until after eleven o’clock. The girl unlaced Lydia’s stays, helped her off with her gown, then brushed her long chestnut hair. She noted her mistress was smiling at her reflection in the mirror.
    “ ’Tis good to see you looking cheery, your ladyship,” she said, speaking out of turn, then realizing her mistake to her own embarrassment.
    Lydia nodded. “I spent a pleasant evening,” she replied, adding: “I have engaged Mr. Lupton as the new steward.”
    Eliza continued brushing her mistress’s hair unthinkingly. “ ’Twill be good to have a man around again.”
    Lydia arched a brow and shot back at her maid, “Mr. Lupton is a steward, not a suitor, Eliza.”
    The girl curtsied awkwardly. “Begging your pardon, my lady. I did not mean . . .” The hairbrush flapped in her hand.
    A smile crossed Lydia’s lips. “You are right, Eliza. It will be good to have the support of a man who knows what he is about and understands business.”
    There was an awkward silence as both women’s thoughts turned to the man who they knew should be rightfully heading the household by now. It was Lydia who spoke her mind.
    “I am sure Dr. Silkstone will agree with my choice,” she said, as if seeking