Maggie MacKeever Read Online Free Page A
Author: Lord Fairchild's Daughter
soon-to-be-beheaded Prudence, drop to her knees and frantically snatch up scattered pieces of shattered crockery from the floor.
“Good morning,” Loveday said. Prudence threw up her hands and shrieked.
“Lawks, miss, you gave me a fright!” she gasped, when Loveday had clambered out of her bed and knelt on the floor beside her, helping to retrieve the scattered china shards. The girl’s checked apron was liberally spattered with tea. “The old witch—beggin’ your pardon, miss, Mrs. Snugglebutt—says I should fetch you your tray, it bein’ your first day here and all, and what’d I do but go and drop it! She’ll fry me, she will! I’ll just go and fetch another pot.”
Prudence scurried out of the room, the evidence of her catastrophe piled high on her tray. Loveday could hear the girl’s murmured laments as she closed the door. Mrs. Snugglebutt apparently ruled her underlings with a firm hand.
Loveday stretched luxuriously, then got up and began to explore her room. She’d been too tired the night before to give it more than a cursory glance before she climbed into the huge, domed, canopy bed with its delicately carved and tapered mahogany posts, over-drapings of tasseled swaths, and furnishings and draperies of green damask. Loveday eyed the papered walls and green-tinged ceiling appreciatively, then moved to inspect a graceful square table with a pretty cupboard below, which opened to reveal wash-basins and adjustable toilet mirrors, and cylindrical compartments for copper water cans. Little buttons released mysterious springs that caused a mirror to rise or fall, and a secret compartment to appear from nowhere.
Someone, perhaps the hapless Prudence, had already supplied hot water. As Loveday made prompt use of it, she searched her unreliable memory for some recollection of her earlier visit to the castle. There was nothing; her mind remained blank. Was it was possible, as Isolda had suggested, that she’d actually witnessed a double murder? Surely she’d remember such a thing! A knock on the door interrupted Loveday’s ablutions, and Mrs. Snugglebutt sailed into the room, bearing before her a fresh tray.
“That slubberdegullion of a girl lacks the sense of a newborn chick!” The housekeeper deposited her tray on a small table with a resounding thwack. The table trembled wildly, and Loveday half-expected another accident, but even inanimate members of the household seemed to fear the countrywoman’s wrath. “Her and her sister both. I ain’t never seen such a pair for breakin’ things and makin’ messes. Spirits, she says! Flapdoodle! More like someone pinched the slyboots!” Without waiting for Loveday’s comment, Mrs. Snugglebutt moved across the room and threw open the windows. “Come here and sniff, miss. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. ‘Tain’t nothin’ like this in that there London town!”
Loveday moved obediently to the window, inhaled the crisp air. She hoped fervently that each day wasn’t to be begun with the housekeeper’s forceful presence. Loveday wasn’t accustomed to such boisterous enthusiasm so early in her day.
Mrs. Snugglebutt scrutinized Loveday. “You’re scrawny as a chick. Ne’er fear, we’ll put some meat on those scrawny bones!”
Loveday wondered, with amusement, why her appearance was of such concern. Perhaps Mrs. Snugglebutt planned to fatten her up for market—or for Averil. The duchess and her housekeeper might scheme to their heart’s content. It would be to no avail. Loveday had no intention of entering into a marriage of convenience, even if it meant persuading Jasper Assheton to go along with a sham betrothal.
Jasper was sure to find her present fix vastly amusing. He had, after all, been rescuing Loveday from scrapes for years, even from her abortive schoolgirl elopement with the music master. Surely he wouldn’t mind helping her this one last time? She wondered how soon he’d return to his lodgings and find the
“Good morning,” Loveday said. Prudence threw up her hands and shrieked.
“Lawks, miss, you gave me a fright!” she gasped, when Loveday had clambered out of her bed and knelt on the floor beside her, helping to retrieve the scattered china shards. The girl’s checked apron was liberally spattered with tea. “The old witch—beggin’ your pardon, miss, Mrs. Snugglebutt—says I should fetch you your tray, it bein’ your first day here and all, and what’d I do but go and drop it! She’ll fry me, she will! I’ll just go and fetch another pot.”
Prudence scurried out of the room, the evidence of her catastrophe piled high on her tray. Loveday could hear the girl’s murmured laments as she closed the door. Mrs. Snugglebutt apparently ruled her underlings with a firm hand.
Loveday stretched luxuriously, then got up and began to explore her room. She’d been too tired the night before to give it more than a cursory glance before she climbed into the huge, domed, canopy bed with its delicately carved and tapered mahogany posts, over-drapings of tasseled swaths, and furnishings and draperies of green damask. Loveday eyed the papered walls and green-tinged ceiling appreciatively, then moved to inspect a graceful square table with a pretty cupboard below, which opened to reveal wash-basins and adjustable toilet mirrors, and cylindrical compartments for copper water cans. Little buttons released mysterious springs that caused a mirror to rise or fall, and a secret compartment to appear from nowhere.
Someone, perhaps the hapless Prudence, had already supplied hot water. As Loveday made prompt use of it, she searched her unreliable memory for some recollection of her earlier visit to the castle. There was nothing; her mind remained blank. Was it was possible, as Isolda had suggested, that she’d actually witnessed a double murder? Surely she’d remember such a thing! A knock on the door interrupted Loveday’s ablutions, and Mrs. Snugglebutt sailed into the room, bearing before her a fresh tray.
“That slubberdegullion of a girl lacks the sense of a newborn chick!” The housekeeper deposited her tray on a small table with a resounding thwack. The table trembled wildly, and Loveday half-expected another accident, but even inanimate members of the household seemed to fear the countrywoman’s wrath. “Her and her sister both. I ain’t never seen such a pair for breakin’ things and makin’ messes. Spirits, she says! Flapdoodle! More like someone pinched the slyboots!” Without waiting for Loveday’s comment, Mrs. Snugglebutt moved across the room and threw open the windows. “Come here and sniff, miss. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. ‘Tain’t nothin’ like this in that there London town!”
Loveday moved obediently to the window, inhaled the crisp air. She hoped fervently that each day wasn’t to be begun with the housekeeper’s forceful presence. Loveday wasn’t accustomed to such boisterous enthusiasm so early in her day.
Mrs. Snugglebutt scrutinized Loveday. “You’re scrawny as a chick. Ne’er fear, we’ll put some meat on those scrawny bones!”
Loveday wondered, with amusement, why her appearance was of such concern. Perhaps Mrs. Snugglebutt planned to fatten her up for market—or for Averil. The duchess and her housekeeper might scheme to their heart’s content. It would be to no avail. Loveday had no intention of entering into a marriage of convenience, even if it meant persuading Jasper Assheton to go along with a sham betrothal.
Jasper was sure to find her present fix vastly amusing. He had, after all, been rescuing Loveday from scrapes for years, even from her abortive schoolgirl elopement with the music master. Surely he wouldn’t mind helping her this one last time? She wondered how soon he’d return to his lodgings and find the