An Earl Like No Other by Wilma Counts

aloud.
    In the gallery, Miss Mortimer had much to say of the costumes of the women in the portraits. She seemed quite knowledgeable about styles and fabrics. She showed little interest in the people in the portraits, which for Kate was just as well, since the housekeeper had not yet been given a thorough tour of the gallery herself. Then they came to a huge canvas depicting the late earl, his second wife, and his five children.
    Kate looked closely at the young men in the picture. It had been made when the current earl was a very young adolescent, but already he had shown the high cheekbones and fine physique that would characterize the grown man. His older brothers, on the other hand, seven and nine years older than he, had—even then, in their twenties—shown signs of dissipation. She studied closely the two younger children in the portrait, a little girl about five, and a little boy of perhaps eight years. This child was of special interest to Kate, for he had grown up to become Lieutenant Robert Chilton, a particular friend to Arthur and to her. She smiled at seeing the man’s friendly grin on the face of a child Ned’s age.
    â€œHmm. I must say, Lord Kenrick—the current one, I mean—does not resemble his eldest brother,” Miss Mortimer commented. “Which is probably a blessing,” she added with a giggle.
    Kate did not respond, but showed the ladies to another section of the house. She opened the drapes in the music room and in another, smaller, drawing room, which was sparsely furnished.
    â€œThis room will be perfect for entertaining lady friends,” Miss Mortimer said.
    â€œCharlotte!” her mother admonished.
    Kate pretended not to notice the older woman’s speaking look at her daughter.
    Miss Mortimer laughed. “Never mind, Mama. We both know I am not one to count my chickens before they are hatched.” She laughed again—triumphantly, it seemed. “And I believe mine are being hatched even as we speak.”
    Again, Kate politely ignored the exchange between mother and daughter, but she could not ignore her own inward reaction. Miss Mortimer’s crassness and her possessive attitude were grating, but as Lord Kenrick’s housekeeper, Kate could evince little interest in her employer’s personal life.
    They continued the tour with the housekeeper dutifully showing such of the guest rooms as were presentable. Chambers occupied by Lady Elinor and Lord Kenrick were, of course, out of bounds, but the adjoining chambers of the master suite—those of the long absent countess—were not.
    â€œA charming suite,” Miss Mortimer pronounced them, “though, please, not lavender and purple.” She put a finger to her cheek. “Hmm. Bright yellow, perhaps. I am one of those rare women who can wear yellows.”
    Kate was fast developing a disgust of the other woman’s seeing everything in terms of herself. But the behavior of a guest was none of the housekeeper’s business, now, was it?
    Finally, Miss Mortimer asked, “Have we seen it all, then? That is, all that is showable now?”
    â€œAll but the nursery,” Kate said. “That section of the house is the domain of Lady Cassandra, who is cared for there.”
    â€œOh, but we must see that too,” Miss Mortimer insisted.
    â€œIf you insist . . .” Kate was reluctant to thrust strangers upon the child.
    â€œBut of course. We could not possibly visit Kenrick Hall without paying our respects to dear Crannie,” Miss Mortimer gushed. “She was once my nurse, you know and lately Mama’s companion. She is like a member of our family. It was I who recommended her to his lordship.”
    In the nursery’s main room, she gushed even more. She made a point of greeting Nurse Cranstan effusively and Kate noted that the nurse basked in such attention.
    â€œHow are you, really, Crannie? I would not have you unhappy.”
    â€œI am quite