Page 14 of Falling for a Footman

Nine

"We will find it, Millie. I'm sure you have just misplaced it," Charlotte heard her father say as he entered the breakfast room along with her mother. He had placed a hand on the small of her mother’s back, probably as soothing a touch as he felt comfortable giving her when both two of their children and several of their servants were around.

"What have you lost, Mama?" Lucy asked, after both she and Charlotte had bid their parents a good morning. Charlotte had been wondering the same thing but had hesitated to ask, since there were several footmen and a maid present. Though not James, which made Charlotte both relieved and feel uneasy at the same time.

Charlotte's mother turned around from the buffet, where she was filling her plate.

"The pearl necklace I wore last night for dinner. I placed it on my dressing table before I went to bed and now it's not there," she replied and turned around to the buffet again.

"Do you think that someone has taken it?" Lucy asked, both excitement and outrage in her voice.

"No, your mother has probably misplaced it," Charlotte's father reassured them, although there was a frown between his brows, and he sounded a bit dismissive. Clearly, he did not want to discuss it.

"Are you going riding today, Papa?" Charlotte asked as a way of distraction as he sat down next to her.

"Not this morning, I have to meet with Mr. Jackson. I'll probably be gone most of the afternoon; he said there is a drainage problem in the northwestern part of the estate."

Mr. Jackson had been her father’s steward for at least fifteen years and Charlotte knew that the man was nothing if not thorough.

"If you want some fresh air, you can join me on my round to the tenants. Mrs. Miller has had her third child and Cook has prepared a basket for her. I would also like to check on old Mr. Walker. I've heard he is suffering terribly from arthritis, and I have an ointment that might help him," Charlotte's mother stated. She seemed to have recovered some of her spirit after the talk of the necklace.

Charlotte squirmed. She knew that visiting the tenants and helping them out was an important part of being the lady of the manor, but she always felt uncomfortable doing it. As if she was intruding in their homes and not there for altruistic purposes.

"Will you be going?" she asked Lucy.

Lucy was always much more comfortable with the tenants, chatting their ears off and playing with the children. It was clear that all of them liked Lucy. In that regard Lucy would have an easy time if she married a man with a title and had to act the role of Lady Bountiful. This was just one of many tasks that Charlotte dreaded if she became the lady of a large estate. She would have plenty to do with simply managing the household.

"Not today," Lucy answered. "I'm finishing a painting. I'll come with you tomorrow, Mama, I'd like to see Mrs. Miller's infant. I want to practice drawing infants. Their features are completely distorted from that of adults which makes it really quite challenging. I hope this one is much uglier than the two first. It’s always more interesting to portray someone ugly rather than beautiful."

"Lucy," their mother scolded, but the corners of her mouth still turned upwards. Behind his napkin their father coughed in an unnatural way that sounded more like a chuckle.

"I'll come with you tomorrow as well then, Mama. I feel restless this morning and think I would benefit from a long walk instead," Charlotte said. Her mother nodded and smiled.

As soon as breakfast was over, Charlotte went to put her boots on in the boot room, donned her bonnet and wrapped her shawl loosely around her shoulders. The late July weather was not spectacularly warm, which only suited her for her walk. She quickly strolled past the stables to the dog run where she found Mr. Giles among the beagles.

“Can I borrow one of the dogs today?” she asked.

“Certainly, Lady Charlotte,” the elderly man that was working outside the run answered.

Charlotte stepped up to the dog run ready to call for her favorite dog, but then spotted a new dog in an enclosure on its own. It was a beautiful brown dog, clearly bred for hunting. It was lying on its side, its large pregnant belly jutting out in an almost awkward angle.

“Where did she come from?” Charlotte asked and stepped over to the enclosure. When she squatted outside of it, the dog lifted its head, and its tail wagged a couple of times before it lay back down again as if those few movements had been enough to exhaust it.

“Its... well, you know the duke, Lady Charlotte,” Mr. Giles stated as if that was an explanation. Mr. Giles was not the most talkative person and Charlotte was not certain whether she would gain any more information from him. She would have to ask her father about the dog then.

“When is she due?” she asked.

“About a week I think, but by the look of her it can be any day now,” Mr. Giles answered.

Charlotte sent the tired and pregnant dog a smile.

“You really are beautiful,” she murmured below her breath.

“What’s that, Lady Charlotte?”

“Oh, nothing, Mr. Giles. I will take Freya for a walk.” She rose and went to the larger enclosure to call for her favorite dog.

Her father found in humor in naming his horses after Greek gods and his dogs after the Norse gods. Freya was only a year and a half and jumped at the chance of going on a walk with Charlotte. Charlotte made her stay down with a firm voice as she put on the leash; she knew how much Miss Walker hated it when her dress was stained. She said goodbye to Mr. Giles and she and Freya made their way out the gate of the garden to a narrow path running along one of the fields.