The Inconvenient Duchess

read the words. There was a short list of supplies—for the estate or the tenants, she knew not. Neat rows of figures, totalled accurately and without hesitation. And nearer the bottom of the page a reminder to call on the vicar first thing in the morning. She smiled and traced the line. He’d written it the night she’d arrived. And below it was a single word: MIRANDA?
    She could almost hear it, as though he were there, speaking to her. And how strange, because the tone she imagined was not one she’d heard from him in life. The voice she imagined was soft and inviting, and full of promise.
    A soft cough from the direction of the doorway indicated the presence of Wilkins. ‘Your Grace?’
    She slid the drawer closed and looked the butler in the eye. ‘Yes, Wilkins?’
    ‘I have something I…’ He dropped his hands to his sides in defeat. ‘I’m afraid I must give notice, ma’am.’
    Oh, dear. She had been afraid this might happen, but could she stand the loss of both main retainers? ‘I’m sure his Grace would be most disappointed to lose you, Wilkins. What is the reason for this sudden decision?’
    ‘I rather thought, your Grace, that once you got the lay of the land, you would be asking me to leave. I’m just saving you the trouble.’
    ‘I appreciate your honesty. And your coming to me, like this. Despite what I told the staff just now, the problem with Mrs Clopton…’ she sighed in exasperation ‘…was not so much the crime—which was bad enough, certainly—but her unrepentant attitude. How can I run a house when the housekeeper thinks me such a fool as to be bullied into accepting her flimsy excuses out of hand?’ She looked steadily at the butler. ‘Is there something you would like to discuss, Wilkins?’
    ‘Ma’am, when you get around to inventorying the cellars, you will find that there is much I have to account for.’
    ‘And is there no way to make up the difference?’
    ‘None that I can think of, ma’am. May I speak frankly?’
    ‘Please.’
    ‘The wages in this house have long been the talk of the district. You’ll find it hard to replace the housekeeper, once they hear what is offered, and what is expected. And my own wages, even supplemented by the occasional stolen brandy bottle, are insufficient to meet my needs and repay his Grace.’
    She held up a hand to him. ‘Let us say no more about your leaving at this time, Wilkins. It is certainly not a problem that needs to be dealt with before my husband’s return.’
    There was a polite knock and a chambermaid poked her head around the doorframe. ‘Your Grace? Something awful’s happened in the dining room. Come quick.’
    Had the first day of her new regime been marred by an accident? Had someone fallen off a ladder? She’d forgotten to check on their stability before sending the footman to bring down the chandeliers.
    When she entered the dining room, she saw that the problem was far worse, at least in the eyes of the maids.
    ‘We tried the formula you suggested for the walls, but look what happened.’ They were lined obediently up at the end of the room, waiting to be sacked.
    She glanced up at the silk covering the walls and stood mesmerised in shock. The sheep that had been grazing onthe green of the hillside were either totally obliterated or oozing towards the wainscoting. The shepherd who had been looking in adoration at his shepherdess was still largely extant, but his smile had been replaced by a runny leer before the maids had given it up as a bad job and run for help. ‘Hand painted,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘It would have done well for regular paper. Even for patterned silk.’
    ‘We only did what you requested, your Grace.’ There was no trace of sarcasm in the comment, only fear. The poor girl was waiting for her to explode.
    ‘Yes, of course you did. It was my fault for not thinking of the surface to be cleaned before making that suggestion. There is nothing to be done for it now. We will have to replace the wall coverings. Please continue cleaning the windows, the floors and the fireplace. But do not worry about the walls until I can think of what is to be done.’
    She trudged down the hall to her room. What was to be done was to have a megrim, alone in her room. Surely that was allowed. She would have to order new silk from the shops in the village. She doubted they would have anything appropriate. Something could be brought from London. And she had not a penny in her pocket, or