was very short. When he bowed, the top of his head was right under my nose.
“Good day, Pratt,” Lawrence said. “Your establishment looks prosperous.”
“Aye, my lord,” Pratt said, wiping his hands on his very clean apron. “I took
the advice of yer business feller and am making meself a tidy profit.”
Lawrence just nodded. “I trust our rooms are ready? Her ladyship,” he added,
smiling at me, “is quite fatigued.”
I wondered why it was always ladies who were fatigued and never gentlemen.
“Yes, indeed, my lord, if yer lordship and ladyship will jest come with me, I
will show ye to yer private parlor.”
“Let me get Miss Crislock and George settled,” I said. “Then I will join you.”
“Surely Miss Crislock can settle herself. She and Flynt can see to each other.
Indeed, Flynt can see to George’s needs. I don’t wish you to trouble yourself
now that you are a married woman.”
I didn’t particularly like Lawrence’s valet, Flynt. He looked too much and said
too little. “Miss Crislock is a nervous sort, my lord, unused to change or
strange places. Also she was ill. I wish to make sure that she is feeling all
right.”
“The Gray Goose ain’t at all strange,” I heard Mr. Pratt say under his breath. “It’s
common, but not strange.”
“Indeed, Mr. Pratt,” I said. “Even though I am now a married lady, I don’t feel
that it’s any particular trouble. I will join you shortly, Lawrence.” Before he
could say anything else I didn’t agree with, I was back outside. Flynt, as was
his wont, just stood there, silent, watching, doing not a single thing that was
helpful. I waited as the coachman assisted her to alight from the carriage. As
for George, no sooner had Miss Crislock’s feet touched the ground than he leapt
into my arms, his tail wagging faster than a windmill in a high wind. I fastened
his collar and let him down to the ground. “I’ll be back, Milly. Just ask Mr.
Pratt to see you to your room.” I just looked at Flynt, who was studying his
thumbnail, then laughed when George leapt up a good three feet to grab the stout
lead out of my hand. “Oh, no you don’t, George. You just trot on ahead. I’m
right here.”
And so George and I walked and ran and leapt in the dying sunlight in the lovely
countryside. He had more energy than I did. It was a good hour before he was
content to go to Miss Crislock and settle down to his dinner and to bed.
The Gray Goose parlor was a cozy, wood-paneled room, with a brightly burning
fire, smells of roast beef, and a thin veil of smoke that filled the air. I
tossed my muff and pelisse on a chair, walked over to the bright fire, and
fanned my hands toward the heat. Lawrence, who had been reading a newspaper, now
gave orders to Pratt for our supper. When Pratt had bowed himself out, Lawrence
joined me by the fire.
“Flynt should have walked George,” he said. “It isn’t the duty of a married lady.”
Was there a list of specific duties a married lady was and wasn’t to perform? I
sincerely prayed that there wasn’t. If there was, I would probably shortly find
myself in deep trouble. I said, “Flynt doesn’t know George. Moreover, Flynt
doesn’t wish to do anything for anyone who isn’t you, namely, his master. What’s
more, George doesn’t like him. He missed me and danced around me until he keeled
over he was finally so tired.”
I thought my husband would say something more, but he didn’t.
When Pratt came again into the parlor, he was followed by a large bosomy girl
with a lovely wide smile, whose name, we were informed, was Betty.
Lawrence turned to me. “Would half an hour suit you, Andrea, er, Andy, before we
dine?”
“Suit me for what? Oh, but I don’t need to change.” I didn’t want to move away
from the heady smell of butter-drenched roasted potatoes seeping from beneath
one of the silver-domed platters. “I will wash my hands, all right? They do
smell rather like dog. Yes, I’ll be back in five minutes, no more. Don’t eat all