Forever Phoebe by Chalon Linton

Chapter 6

Franklin was grateful Miss Jamison had the wherewithal to change the subject, yet the fact that he was no closer to accomplishing his goal stirred his frustration. The day had grown late, and he still found himself without a potential lead for a butler.

He thanked Mrs. Mason for her kind welcome and made all the expected remarks about the pleasures of becoming better acquainted with her and her son. Miss Jamison and her brothers climbed inside the carriage, and Franklin moved to step inside when Mason, who had followed them, stopped him.

“Everly. Nathaniel Thurston is the man’s name.” Mason looked back over his shoulder. His mother stood in the window of the drawing room. “Last I heard, he’s still around. The Blue Goose Inn at Halsham is your best bet. The proprietor knows most everyone about the area, and I’ve no qualms with you hiring the man. He’ll serve you well. Just don’t let my mother know . . . at least, for a while.”

Franklin nodded once. “Understood.” Then he climbed into the carriage.

“Good thing you came along, Phoebe,” Geoffrey said as the carriage lurched forward. “Mrs. Mason was ready to throw us out on our ears.”

“Mother has told me she is a prideful woman. I’m sure she does not like news of her butler’s misfortune bandied about.” Miss Jamison untied her bonnet and set it in her lap. Franklin stared for a moment. Bethany would never have removed her bonnet while they traveled. Miss Jamison did not seem to think twice about her actions. In fact, she seemed rather comfortable surrounded by the three men. And while Franklin acknowledged she should feel safe and content with her siblings, he found himself oddly pleased that his presence did not alter her natural inclination.

“Though, her butler’s misfortune is entirely her doing.” Peter leaned back against the velvet-covered seat.

Miss Jamison reached forward and touched Peter’s hand resting on his leg. “I’m sorry to have brought up your loss. It was the first topic that came to mind, and I knew Mrs. Mason would find it an entertaining story. I only hoped to ease the tension.”

Peter patted his sister’s fingers with his free hand. “I could see what you were about. I was happy to play along.” He stretched his arms and then rested his hands behind his head. “What are we to do about finding Everly a butler?”

“Mason has solved that problem,” Franklin said, and he told of his exchange with the man.

“I’m glad the day was not wasted.” Jamison stretched his legs out the best he could, leaned against the back of the coach, and closed his eyes.

Franklin looked between the brothers. Both looked surprisingly comfortable in the cramped space. He then turned to Miss Jamison. A pretty smile spread across her lips. She shrugged and turned her attention to the window, and Franklin realized his partiality for the entire Jamison family.

It did not take much persuasion to convince Franklin to remain at Primly Park and join them for dinner. He excused himself not long after the meal, with the excuse that he needed to return home with Chipper so that the horse might properly dirty his stall. Franklin did not want to disappoint Peter when he arrived the next morning.

In reality, he needed to return home to check on Gladstone. The man had not been pleased with Franklin’s decrees and was unlikely to willingly accept his lowered status. Franklin had yet to determine where in the household to place the man but was willing to keep him on if he met all expectations.

Franklin handed Chipper over to the stableboy and appraised the lad, considering whether the young man would be capable of taking on the role of stablemaster. He hoped to fill the stalls with horses.

“Tell me your name again,” Franklin said.

“Roger Axel, sir.” The boy hefted the saddle he held higher in his arms. Franklin nodded, and the boy carried his load to the storage room.

Franklin walked over to Chipper’s stall. He hung his arms over the door while the horse ate his hay. “Good race today,” Franklin said, the feeling of victory washing over him anew. He stepped back, ready to head inside, and noticed that the latch on Chipper’s stall sat awry.

“Roger,” Franklin called.

The boy quickly popped out of the storage room. “Yes, sir?”

“Can you point me to a hammer and a couple of nails?” Franklin pointed to the hanging hinge.

Roger’s eyes grew wide. “Sorry sir, I can fix that.”

“I’ll leave the others for you to check tomorrow,” Franklin said. “If you’ll fetch me a hammer, I will see to this one.”

Roger returned with the tools, and ten minutes later, the task was complete. Franklin walked to his study and added broken latch to his list of repairs. Then he drew a neat line through the task. “One down, far too many to go.”

The next morning, Mrs. Gladstone served boiled eggs, ham, and warm bread with fresh butter. Franklin granted his sincere compliments on the meal. Peter arrived shortly afterward, insistent on paying his debt, much to Roger’s horror.

“Are you certain, sir? ’Tis my duty to do the mucking,” the boy said, his feet shifting beneath him.

Peter waved him away. “I’m only relieving you for a week.”

“Unless we race again.” Franklin smirked.

“Of course we will.” Peter layered the horse droppings on the shovel and dumped the load into a bucket. “But next time, I will win.”

He finished quickly and agreed to join Franklin on his search for Nathaniel Thurston. The innkeeper at the Blue Goose told the men Nathaniel had been asking around for work.

“If you see him again, please tell him to come to Ravencrest. I believe I can offer him a position.” Franklin left his card with the man, hopeful that he would hear from Nathaniel in a day or two.

“You’ll be needing more than a butler to set the estate to rights,” Peter said as they rode away from the Blue Goose.

“Butler, housekeeper, maids, proper footmen—my list grows daily. Hourly, even.” Franklin kicked Chipper into a trot, and Peter’s horse matched pace beside him.

“A cook too, I assume,” Peter said.

“Actually, Mrs. Gladstone does well in the kitchen. I haven’t requested anything formal, but the meals she’s made have been surprisingly good.”

“Phoebe might be able to help with the housemaids.” Peter tipped his hat at a passing carriage. “She and Miss Vane go on visits with the vicar’s wife. She may know of some girls looking for a position.”

Franklin thought on Peter’s suggestion. While it would be nice to leave all the hiring for his steward to sort out, he was anxious to begin tackling his list of tasks. “Perhaps you could speak with her and ask her opinion,” Franklin said.

“Let’s ride to Primly Park now and see if she is agreeable.” Peter narrowed his gaze. A wily gleam filtered through his eyes right before he shouted, “Race you there!” He kicked his horse’s flanks, and he was off.