Nightingale by Sharon Ervin Page B

take the damaged hens and bury the dead ones on my way home.”
    Devlin nodded that he understood the story to this point. Apparently feeling surer of himself, his grip on her arm relaxed. Moving a step closer to the bed, she straightened to her full height, although he maintained a hold on her near forearm.
    The chamber door flew open and Nan rushed in. “Out, out, out,” she hissed. “Get away from the master this moment. Who do you think …. ?”
    Devlin’s roar startled both girls.
    “WHO IN THE HELL IS THAT?” His question reverberated off all four walls, the echo bouncing eerily.
    Taken aback, Nan looked at Jessica as if trying to think of a way to blame her for the duke’s outburst. Before either of them spoke, he roared again.
    “I SAY, WHO CAME INTO THIS ROOM AND BEGAN ORDERING PEOPLE ABOUT?” His voice dropped to a shout as he continued. “Jessica, I demand that you tell me who the person is.”
    Jessica answered rather than risk exciting him further.
    “It is Nan, a chambermaid, my lord. I am sure she was merely concerned that I might be pestering you.”
    “Does this Nan person appear to you to possess good sense, or is she addled?”
    Jessica regarded Nan briefly before she answered. “It is difficult to tell, Your Grace, with only appearances on which to judge.”
    “Nan!” He barked the name, making the girl jump again.
    “Your G-Grace?”
    “You are never again to speak out loud in this house within my hearing, is that clear?”
    “Yes, Your Grace.” She began backing toward the door.
    “If there is a fire, send someone else to alert me. Moreover,” he said, increasing his volume and stopping her retreat, “Jessica Blair is my dear friend, the person closest to my heart. You are NEVER to address anyone else in this house in that surly manner, most particularly not Miss Blair. From this moment on, your employment is tentative. Your standing is that of a kitchen cat, tolerated but expendable. Is that clear?”
    “Yes, Your Grace.” Nan didn’t raise her eyes, as she shuffled backward, again retreating toward the door.
    “You remain in this house under a cloud, Nan.” Again his words riveted her in place. “If I hear one complaint of your behavior or speech — even one — you will be discharged with no notice and without references. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Your Grace.” With that, she turned, stumbled over the threshold, and pulled the door closed behind her. Before the latch snapped into place, however, another figure slipped through and into the room. The dowager tapped her index finger to her lips, indicating she wanted Jessica to keep her presence secret.
    A pall hung upon the chamber, each of the inhabitants seemingly waiting for one of the others to speak.
    Jessica finally stirred the quiet. “You were harsh with the girl, Your Grace.”
    “I did that for you, Nightingale. I want my family and every member of the staff to understand your position here.” His facial expression changed to one she could not read.
    “Exactly what
is
my position here, Your Grace?”
    He disregarded the question. “I thought a damsel in distress would admire a gentleman who rallied to her defense.”
    This time her laugh was genuine. “I am a scullery maid — in truth, a scullery maid’s assistant — in the manor house of one of your overseers, a man whose position is minute compared to yours. It is wrong for me to be an honored guest in your marvelous home, wrong for me to be here in your bedchamber conversing as if we were equals. Under ordinary circumstances, you would never have occasion to utter a word to me.”
    His rolling laugh interrupted her, at the same time he removed his hand from her forearm.
    Jessica shook her head puzzling. “What was it I said, Your Grace, to cause such good humor?”
    He sputtered attempting to speak, and Jessica couldn’t help smiling as his hilarity infected her as well.
    In a moment, as he became weakened by his attempts to articulate over a