nodded. “I assumed as much.” She glanced at James. “Will I have a free hand? To manage the staff as I see fit? And with regards to all matters pertaining to the residences?”
“Of course,” James said. He really hadn’t considered that there was now a lady of the house. It was rather a nice idea. “Regardless of how little time you’ve spent here in the past, this is your home as is Ellsworth Manor. You are Lady Ellsworth, after all.”
“The first Lady Ellsworth in quite some time, given Richard never married,” Mrs. Higginbotham pointed out.
Violet smiled with satisfaction, a bit too much satisfaction really.
“However, even the most loyal of servants do gossip you know,” Lady Blodgett said. “Which means even here you will have to behave in a cordial manner toward each other.”
Violet shook her head. “This feels like a poorly written French farce.”
“Then perhaps you need to rewrite it, dear.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore smiled pleasantly.
“I have no desire to lose the property that has been in my family for generations but aside from all else...” James chose his words with care. “This is what Uncle Richard wanted. I am not thrilled with the manner in which he is forcing us to abide by his wishes but if Violet is willing to do so, I am, as well.”
“I told his lordship earlier today, I would abide by the terms of the will. For Uncle Richard,” Violet added and smiled at Mrs. Higginbotham. “He really was a wonderful man.”
“Then allow me to propose a toast.” Marcus rose to his feet. “To his lordship, Richard Branham, the late Earl of Ellsworth.”
The toast echoed around the table and James swallowed against a lump in his throat. As much as he would have preferred Uncle Richard had found some other way to encourage a reconciliation with Violet, James knew the determined old man had only done what he thought was best. His methods were questionable but his heart was not.
“And here’s to Lord and Lady Ellsworth and the next three years,” Marcus added. The gathering responded with varying degrees of enthusiasm. James was fairly certain only he heard the rest of Marcus’s words. “God help you both.”
“WASN’T IT NICE of his lordship to send us home in his carriage?” Poppy snuggled back against the tufted leather seats.
“I’d say it’s the least he could do,” Effie said. “We are, after all, the only thing that might save his future.”
“Not, of course, the main purpose of his uncle’s will,” Gwen pointed out.
“Richard’s letter was very clear on that point,” Effie said. “There was no doubt in his mind that these two people potentially share a great love and belong together. I don’t see it myself but we shall take Richard’s conviction on faith. He has charged us with making certain that happens and has given us three years to accomplish it.”
“Three years might not be enough. This is going to be harder than I thought.” Gwen frowned. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve attended a more awkward meal.”
“But the food was excellent,” Poppy murmured.
“Surely you didn’t think Richard could simply throw them together and all would be well?” Effie scoffed.
“I had rather hoped that would be the case,” Poppy said. “As his late lordship did think they were fated to be together it seems to me, fate really should lend a helping hand.”
“One cannot count on fate,” Gwen said. “Fate however, can count on us.”
“No one said this would be easy.” Effie drew her brows together. “I agree that the evening was awkward and there was a palpable sense of tension in the air.”
Gwen nodded. “A great deal was left unsaid at that table.”
“At least they’re not at each other’s throats,” Poppy pointed out.
“That’s something, I suppose.” Gwen sighed.
“Actually, I don’t think it is.” Effie considered the evening. There was something missing... “There was no particular, oh, I don’t know, spark between them. There were moments of course but all in all, he was pleasant and she was polite. At least if they were arguing, if their blood was at a boil, that would indicate some sort of, well, passion.”
“Passion?” Poppy’s voice rose. “What on earth are you thinking?”
“She’s thinking’s there’s a fine line between the passion of anger and passion of another sort.” Gwen grinned. “I must say that’s brilliant.”
“There is nothing more satisfying than scratching a persistent itch.” Effie smirked.
“I don’t understand.” Poppy shook her head. “We’re going to make them itch?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Gwen said. “From tonight’s observation, I suspect James is more amenable to reconciliation than Violet. While they both seem quite stubborn, it would appear Violet is extremely wary, as well. Perhaps our next step should be to determine how they really feel about each other.”
Effie nodded. “The more information we have, the quicker we can move this along. We would hate for them to fall into the habit of merely existing together. No, we need to strike while the iron is hot.”
“One does prefer to avoid being mercenary,” Poppy said slowly, “but the longer this takes, the more Effie will be paid.”
“That is a consideration,” Gwen added. “We do need the money.”
“Richard’s money is nothing more than a momentary respite.” Effie forced a note of confidence even she didn’t believe. “It simply gives us a bit of room to come up with a way to salvage our sagging finances. Nonetheless, financial considerations will not influence our efforts. And I will not have a dead man’s final wish hanging over my head for the next three years. Richard believed James and Violet belong together. And together they shall be.” Effie set her chin stubbornly. “Whether they like it or not.”
VIOLET JOTTED DOWN another idea regarding refurbishment of the house in the notebook beside her plate, ignoring James’s entry into the breakfast room. She’d retired to her room the moment their guests had left last night, once again politely declining James’s invitation to join him in the library.
“Good morning,” he said in a pleasant enough manner, bypassing the table for the breakfast offerings on the sideboard.
“Good morning,” she murmured, her gaze still on the page before her.
“I trust you slept well.”
“Quite well, thank you.” In truth she’d barely slept a wink. Dinner with Mrs. Higginbotham and her friends had driven home just how difficult and challenging the next three years would be. Beyond that, she couldn’t get James’s suggestion that they be friends again out of her head. Their friendship had once been the first step toward heartbreak. She would not make that mistake again. Polite cordiality while maintaining an aloof distance was the right path to take if Violet was to survive the next three years with her heart intact.
She really hadn’t considered the game they’d be playing. They would be together continually, pretending to be a happy couple. More than once through the long hours of the night she had revisited her decision to adhere to the conditions of Uncle Richard’s will. And more than once she had aimed disgruntled comments toward Uncle Richard in the hereafter.
Most annoying of all was that