The Stanforth Secrets by Jo Beverley

the Dowager. “The Massinger girl is very willing, but forward. It is a while since she refreshed it, though. Perhaps you could cover it now as we will be going down. Then it will last better, you know.”
    The Dowager always referred to Belinda as the Massinger girl, or Miss Massinger, if she had to address her. Chloe could never decide whether this was snobbishness, or an inability to remember George’s marriage. Belinda certainly did her best to be obliging to the older lady.
    Chloe went obediently to the container which sat on the mantelpiece. “Why this is a different pot, Mama. How pretty.”
    “Yes it is, isn’t it? The Massinger girl brought it.” The Dowager wore the pleased smile of a young child. “Pretty.”
    The white china urn was in the Japanese style, delicately painted. It was straight-sided, with a silver wire grid set in the top, the wire wound together into ornate patterns. Inside, Chloe saw the dusky jewel colors of the dried blossoms. She smelled the delicious fragrance again before placing a lid over it to preserve the aroma.
    Making potpourri , and the collection of pots for its use, was Belinda’s hobby. Chloe thought one day soon, before she left Delamere, she should have the young woman share some of her knowledge. This particular pot was the loveliest yet, and it was kind of Belinda to put it in the Dowager’s room. As she turned it, however, Chloe thought it was not a very good design. The wires of the grid were set into the clay and clearly immovable. The mixture would have to be dribbled in. Time-consuming.
    The Dowager’s voice broke into her thoughts. “That girl brought me something for my lumbago too. Amy,” she said to Miss Forbes, “show Stephen’s wife that stuff.”
    Chloe went over to join the companion at a table crowded with jars and potions. Miss Forbes passed a wide-mouthed earthenware bottle to her, and she unclipped the cap to be assailed by the reek of camphor and turpentine.
    “Ugh.” She hastily capped it again. “If smell is any indication, it must be powerful enough. Does it work, Miss Forbes?”
    “I rubbed it in and it seemed to ease the stiffness, but Sophronia doesn’t like the smell. I’m sure it is effective, though. My mother used just such a mix for my grandfather.”
    Chloe looked at all the jars and bottles. The numbers seemed to be growing every day. “Surely all this cannot be necessary.”
    “Oh, it’s more like a collection,” said Miss Forbes comfortably. “Sophronia is very well most of the time, but she likes to talk of this and that problem, and Belinda always knows of a lotion or potion. Very kind of her really.”
    Chloe looked at the collection doubtfully. “I leave it to your judgment, Miss Forbes. Please be careful with anything to be ingested, though.”
    “Oh I am. And so is Belinda. She only ever gives such things as coltsfoot drops, or licorice cough lozenges. Quite harmless.”
    “Do you think I should wear my red slippers, Mama?” said the Dowager suddenly in a girlish voice. Chloe glanced at Miss Forbes, who clucked.
    “Certainly not, dear,” she said, as if speaking to a child. “Not with green.”
    “But I like my red slippers.” The Dowager’s lips began to pucker and Miss Forbes hurried over to hold her hand.
    “You shall wear them tomorrow,” said Miss Forbes firmly, and the Dowager sighed.
    Then she smiled. “That’s right. That’s when Henry’s coming to call,” she said. “He may not be a duke but he is so distinguished.”
    Chloe again looked questioningly at the companion. It seemed as if her mother-in-law was sliding into one of her bad times. Miss Forbes stepped aside to talk with her.
    “She will be better in company, you’ll see, Lady Stephen. She’s so looking forward to new faces. If she is any trouble at all, I will take her away.”
    “Only if absolutely necessary,” said Chloe. “This is her home. We are so fortunate to have found you, Miss Forbes.”
    The little lady blushed.