Yerbury's pale eyes glowed just a touch warmer when she said “Your household.” Then the unthinkable occurred. Yerbury sneezed. “Oh!” he exclaimed, looking as if he wanted to melt into the ground. “My lady, I am so dreadfully sorry.”
“Don't be silly, Yerbury,” Victoria said. “It is only a sneeze.”
He sneezed again, just as he was saying, “A good butler never sneezes.” Then he let out four more sneezes in rapid succession.
Victoria had never seen a man look more distressed. With a quick glance at Robert, she went forward and laced her arm through the butler's. “Come now, Yerbury,” she said warmly, before he had a chance to faint at such intimate contact with the new countess. “Why don't you show me to the kitchens? I know of an excellent remedy. We shall have you cured in no time.”
And then Yerbury, his face betraying more emotion than he'd let show in forty years, led her to the back of the house, thanking her profusely all the while.
Robert only smiled as he was abandoned in the front hall. It had taken less than two minutes for Victoria to charm Yerbury. He predicted she would have the rest of the household eating from her hand by nightfall.
A few days passed, and Victoria slowly grew comfortable with her new position. She didn't think she would ever be able to order servants around like most of the nobility; she had spent far too long in their ranks not to realize that they were all people, too, with hopes and dreams much like her own. And although the servants were never told of Victoria's background, they seemed to sense that she had a special affinity for them.
Victoria and Robert were breakfasting one day when a particularly devoted maid insisted that she reheat her mistress's morning chocolate because it wasn't quite warm enough. As the maid scurried off with the pot, Robert remarked, “I do think they would give their lives for you, Torie.”
“Don't be silly,” she said with a scoff and a smile.
Robert added, “I'm not at all certain they would do the same for me.”
Victoria was about to repeat her earlier comment when Yerbury entered the room. “My lord, my lady,” he said, “Mrs. Brightbill and Miss Brightbill have come calling. Shall I tell them you are not at home?”
“Thank you, Yerbury,” Robert said, turning back to his newspaper.
“No!” Victoria exclaimed. Yerbury immediately halted in his tracks.
“Who is supposed to be in charge here?” Robert muttered, watching as his butler blatantly disregarded his wishes in deference to those of his wife.
“Robert, they are family,” Victoria said. “We must receive them. Your aunt's feelings will be terribly bruised.”
“My aunt has an amazingly thick skin, and I would like some time alone with my wife.”
“I am not suggesting that we invite all of London for tea. Merely that you spare a few minutes to greet your aunt.” Victoria looked back up at the butler. “Yerbury, please show them in. Perhaps they might like to share our meal.”
Robert scowled, but Victoria could see that he wasn't really upset. In a few seconds Mrs. Brightbill and Harriet bustled into the room. Robert immediately rose to his feet.
“My dear, dear nephew!” Mrs. Brightbill trilled. “You have been a naughty boy.”
“Mother,” Harriet added, throwing a sheepish look Robert's way, “I don't think one can still call him a boy.”
“Nonsense, I can call him whatever I wish.” She turned to Robert and fixed a stern expression on her face. “Have you any idea how upset your father is with you?”
Robert sat back down once the two women had taken their seats. “Aunt Brightbill, my father has been angry with me for seven years”.
“You didn't invite him to your wedding!”
“I didn't invite anyone to my wedding”.
“That is entirely beside the point.”
Harriet turned to Victoria and said behind the back of her hand, “My mother does love a good cause”.
“And what cause is this?”
“Righteous indignation”, Harriet replied. “She loves nothing better”.
Victoria glanced over at her new husband, who was enduring his aunt's scolding with remarkable patience. She turned back to Harriet.
“How long do you think he'll be able to withstand it?”
Harriet furrowed her brow as she pondered that question. “I would have to say that he must be nearing his limit.”
As if on cue Robert's hand came crashing down on the table, rattling all the dishes.
“Enough!” he boomed.
In the doorway to the kitchen, the maid hovered in terror. “You don't want any more chocolate?” she whispered.
“No!” Victoria cut in, jumping to her feet. “He wasn't speaking to you, Joanna. We would love some chocolate, wouldn't we, Harriet?”
Harriet nodded enthusiastically. “I'm certain my mother would as well. Isn't that so, Mother?”
Mrs. Brightbill twisted in her seat. “What are you blithering on about, Harriet?”
“Chocolate”, her daughter replied patiently.“Wouldn't you like some?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Brightbill said with a sniff.
“No sensible women would refuse chocolate.”
“My mother has always prided herself on being very sensible”, Harriet said to Victoria.
“Of course”, Victoria said loudly. “Your mother is all that is sensible and true.”
Mrs. Brightbill beamed. “I shall forgive you, Robert”, she said with a great huff, “for neglecting to include Harriet and me in your nuptials, but only because you have finally exhibited the sense that God gave and chosen the lovely Miss Lyndon as your wife”.