Page 13 of Falling for a Footman

Eight

Bugger, bugger, bugger. Lady Charlotte was not just a debutante that found his broad shoulders and tall figure intriguing. She was also intelligent and curious which could give James a whole set of different problems than her simply being taken with him.

William grunted in his sleep and James looked in his direction. He could not make William out in the darkness, only sense that he was lying close by. The room was so narrow that he would only have to lean a little over the edge of his bed to be able to touch William’s. James had no idea whether this was a normal size room for a footman, but anywhere he had previously been it would constitute a storage room and nothing more. They did have their own window though, a small round one that looked like a port hole on a ship.

When he next returned to London, he would examine the conditions for his servants more closely. Truthfully, he had never seen their rooms despite having lived in the house for a year. He should also speak to his parents about how they treated their servants. He assumed that they were treated well, but up until now he had not given it a second thought. He had grown up surrounded by servants and been used to them catering to his needs. It was not until he entered the army that he learned skills that was basic for most other people, like putting on his own boots and brushing his own jacket.

And he only cared about servants’ conditions because he was here at Great Farleigh Hall. His mind returned to Lady Charlotte with a pang that jolted any sleep from his body. The situation was beyond bad. He had been able to avoid her for the rest of the day, except at dinner when he had been serving. Then she had all but ignored him, except for a few times when her perceptive grey eyes had landed on him, and James had had to use all his concentration not to meet them.

He could not be certain exactly how much she had picked up on from their conversation in the library. It had been a major flaw that he had been whistling the dancing tune: it was brand new, and he had only heard it a few times before he left London and yet he already knew it by heart. He needed to be more careful not to make mistakes like that again.

The lie about having worked in Suffolk had seemed to work fine with the other servants, but James was not certain whether he should have repeated it to Lady Charlotte. After he had left the library, he remembered how his mother had mentioned her the last time they saw each other.

“Intelligent and entertaining in a subdued way,” his mother had called her which now that James had met Lady Charlotte made him think that his mother knew her better than he had first thought. At least intelligent in a subdued way was also how he would sum up Lady Charlotte’s personality himself. He was not certain about entertaining.

What he was certain about though was that it was only her attraction to him that had caused her to question him in the library. Otherwise, she seemed a bit timid, certainly not someone that would engage in conversation with a footman for her own amusement.

“I am certain the two of you would like each other,” his mother had even topped up the statement with before he left London.

James rolled his eyes and wished that he could simply go to sleep. He was bone weary from the heavy work he had been doing all day. And on top of that he had to pretend to be someone he was not as well as question his fellow servants without them knowing it. His admiration for Harrowby’s skill to go undercover so effortlessly posing as practically any sort of person was growing by the hour.

But the day was not over for him yet and he needed to keep awake for at least another ten or fifteen minutes. He had heard Mr. Curtis retire to his room at the end of the servant’s hall about five minutes ago and he wanted to be absolutely certain that the butler was asleep before he snuck down the stairs.

James might as well occupy himself with the conundrum that was Charlotte Montagu. It seemed to make his mind spin in a way that definitely did not make him sleepy. If she had not been perceptive and intelligent, he would not feel so exposed. Even though it would probably make no difference whether she figured out who he was or not, it would feel like a failure to him.

Harrowby had made it clear that this task was an important part of his training. If an eighteen-year-old woman could figure out who James really was, he could whistle for getting more undercover assignments any time soon. And if he wanted to advance within the Bow Street Runners – which he did – then he needed to complete this mission successfully. Meaning that neither Lady Charlotte nor anyone else could know that he was anyone but the footman James.

William turned on his back and the motion instantly made James’s heart jump in his chest and his head turn in his direction. His heart only began to calm down when William started a heavy breathing that bordered on snoring. It would probably turn into a full-blown snore if William gained weight. Right now, he was simply a bit heavier set, but also one of the strongest footmen James had met. Which was only lucky for him since that meant William did not mind doing the heavy lifting. It seemed that he in fact felt proud of being able to lift even the heaviest object without thinking of his own health or safety.

James turned on his back again and his mind returned to Lady Charlotte. He had to find a way to outsmart her and put her off him completely. Most likely, it was simply a young girl who was experiencing her first infatuation. If he had met her in London, he would probably have found it sweet in a puppy kind of way. With his six and twenty years he was not yet ready to marry, and she was far too young at any event. He might have asked her to dance though. He would have liked the feel of her tall body in his arms.

Resolutely, James turned on his side and hugged his arms to his chest as if he could that way rid himself of the imagined feeling of Lady Charlotte. This was absurd. Insane even. He could not indulge this fantasy any further. Lady Charlotte was young and naïve, he was experienced and not even looking for anything, not thinking about anything besides his career and having fun – and dukes’ daughters were certainly not meant for fun.

With a decisive movement, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose as gently as possible. He froze as William mumbled in his sleep. James was fairly certain that he said either “Betty” or “Meggie”. He smiled at the thought of William having a sweetheart, perhaps a local girl from the village. As far as he knew, none of the maids were called Betty or Meggie.

James had placed his clothes where it was easy to reach them and quickly grabbed them when he was certain William was still asleep. He put them on with hurried, but silent movements, and then tiptoed towards the door, almost holding his breath as he tried to avoid the creaking floorboards in front of the door. William did not stir but kept on breathing heavily and steadily.

Quickly James entered the hallway and put his shoes on. He would have preferred to wear his own clothes for his rounds of the estate: the dark clothes would make it easier for him to blend into the shadows, but he had figured that it was better he was in livery if he met anyone. If need be, he could say that he had been roused to fetch an item for the duke.

The night watchman was usually in the kitchen by this hour after having gone his first rounds as the family and the servants had retired. James would avoid the ground floor area, until the night watchman did his next round around two in the morning. He hurried down the stairs as silently as possible and exited them on the third floor where the nursery, Lady Lucinda’s studio and one of the guests’ wings were located.

The nursery was a wing on its own and he had no intention of going down there. Children were notoriously light sleepers, at least his nieces and nephews were, and he did not want to risk waking them. The same went for the adults of the family whose bedrooms were located one floor down in the same wing and part of the main building as well. The duke and duchess shared a suite of at least four rooms, while Lady Lucinda and Lady Charlotte each had their own rooms with an adjoining dressing room.

He remembered how Lady Charlotte had hidden in her dressing room the other night as he brought the water. Yes, she certainly was a naïve and shy girl.

James had always liked women who were a bit shy. If it was genuine, mind you. Women who simply pretended to be was not for him. Women who pretended in general were not for him, he thought with cold dread and forced his thoughts away from Mrs. Fuller and back to Lady Charlotte. Being let into the good graces of a woman who was a bit shy felt as if you got to share a secret with her that few others had the delight to know. Lady Charlotte certainly had an air about her that would make him feel lucky if he ever saw her laughing unstrained.

Except it was not for him to make her laugh or enjoy herself in any other way. He was here to do a job and that was that.

His first task of the night was to check the guest wing where the candlesticks had been placed. In an estate with valuables scattered all over, James found the lack of security almost shocking, but if he suggested to his parents that they upped the security at their estate they would most likely decline as well. He looked into all the rooms as he walked swiftly and soundlessly down the hall, constantly trying to listen for anyone else there.

When he found the floor empty and seemingly undisturbed, he continued to the guest wing on the second floor. He had gone through a few rooms when he heard a noise from behind a closed door. James’s heart leapt into his throat with excitement. Could this be the chance that he had been waiting for? Catching the thief in the act would certainly be the easiest. With his heart drumming in his ears, he walked soundlessly to the door and opened it just a crack to be able to look in. A candle was lit inside but it did not do much to reveal whether anyone was there.

James opened the door further to be able to see better. The door creaked a bit on its hinges and James saw a movement inside.

“Who is there?” he demanded as he stepped into the room. He had seen the movement by the window and hoped that it was only one person in there.

No one answered, but James was able to make the person out now as a dark shadow against the window. The candle had been placed on a side table with decanters full of liquor and did not give sufficient light for him to be able to make out many details about the person. It was someone who was at least a head shorter than him though. This calmed his heart considerably. Despite him believing in his own strength it could be challenging to overtake a culprit his own size.

“Who is there?” he asked again, taking a couple of steps towards the person by the window.

“It is me,” croaked the voice of a female. James was certain that he had heard the woman speak before although he could not place her at the moment. There was a note to her voice as if she was afraid James would do her harm.

“This is James,” he felt the need to declare, since the person opposite him might be just as confused about his identity as he was about hers.

“Cook,” the woman mumbled, and the pieces clicked into place for James: the middle-aged woman with mouse brown hair who was a bit shorter than average.

“What are you doing here?” James demanded. He wanted to close the door to make certain that they were not heard and did not attract attention; on the other hand, he was not certain how she would perceive that. He already had her cornered against the window and closing the door would only make him seem threatening.

“I’m...” the woman’s voice failed.

James took the candlestick from the side table between the decanters where several of them were missing their stoppers. He walked towards her and held the light up high. The soft light flickered over her face, and he could see from her wide eyes and raised brow what he had been able to hear: she was afraid. She also did not seem to be the thief. At least not that kind of thief: In her hand was a flask that had most likely been filled with the liquor from the side table. Cook was stealing alcohol from the room, not valuables.

“I thought you were the thief,” James explained and ignored the flask. It was not his business to report a servant who was perhaps a bit too deep into her cups but was otherwise doing her job well.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Cook exclaimed and quickly hit the flask in a pocket in her dress. “I thought I heard a noise from in here. That is why I entered myself.”

James nodded and they parted ways shortly after, without her asking what he had been doing there at night.