The afternoon presented a surprise. The sound of wheels outside the front doors brought Eloise to the window in time to see a small mud-spattered gig draw up in front of the doors and a tall thin middle-aged man in clerical black descend from it. He handed the reins to Andrew, who had popped up out of nowhere to assist. Oh, dear, thought Eloise. The vicar calling already? No. Not vicar. Minister? Pastor? She was not sure how Church of Scotland clergy were styled.

Eloise noticed with disapproval that Mrs. Kershaw answered the door. Was that not Dickson’s responsibility as butler? She was more shocked than surprised to hear the caller invited into the drawing room and assured that “Mrs. Kerr will be down in a minute, sir.” Really, the household was in a sorry state if the senior servants did not know better than that. But now she was caught and had to go downstairs to deal with the caller. She took a quick look in the mirror, tucked a strand of hair back into its braid and descended the stairs slowly and with dignity. She was still a little stiff and sore.

The housekeeper came back from escorting the caller to the drawing room, saw Eloise on the stairs and sniffed.

“Here is Mr. Tait, ma’am, come to pay a call.”

Her tone suggested this was not the most welcome of guests. Eloise caught Mrs. Kershaw on the way to the kitchen to order a tea tray. “Mrs. Kershaw, is it not Dickson’s responsibility to answer the door and admit callers?” She kept her tone neutral.

“Yes, ma’am, but we do not stand on ceremony here. Dickson has other things to attend to. You just go into the drawing room, ma’am, and I will have tea sent up.”

Eloise took a deep breath. “As the guest is now in the house, I will receive him and take tea with him. We will discuss this later.” She turned on her heel and walked into the drawing room and pasted a welcoming smile on her face. “How kind of you to call, Mr. …?” She knew who he was, but she was not above pointing out the awkwardness of an unannounced call on her first day in the place.

“Tait, madam,” answered the tall man. “I am the minister of St. Mary’s, Hawick. I have made all possible haste to welcome you to the parish and to offer my best wishes on your recent marriage. My wife intends to call on you at the earliest opportunity, but she was not able to accompany me today. Is Mr. Kerr going to join us?”

Eloise was taken aback by this torrent of information. Picking through what she might conceivably respond to, she turned a smile on Mr. Tait. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tait,” she said with more warmth than she felt. “It is kind of you to call so very promptly.” If he had any social sense at all, he would hear the outrage in that mild remark.

“I am honoured,” said Mr. Tait. “I understand you arrived yesterday, and I decided I must be the first to call and to invite you to worship.”

“Will you not be seated?” Eloise indicated furniture grouped by the fireplace. “I believe tea is on its way.”

The minister sat and Eloise joined him, frantically searching for a topic of conversation. “St. Mary’s, you say. How interesting. Is it Church of Scotland?”

“But of course, madam.” Tait’s expression suggested that only heathens could contemplate any other form of worship. “Your husband is, as of course you are aware, a member of the Church of Scotland.”

It was a thinly veiled expectation that Eloise must worship as her husband did, but Eloise saw no reason to blush for her religion. “I am English,” she said, as if he did not already know this, primed by the gossip mill that must have been working overtime to bring the news of their marriage to market at double speed. “A member of the Church of England.” She sat back waiting to see how that would be received. Tait winced and looked concerned.

“The Kerrs have always been staunch for the Scottish Church. We confidently expect to see you and your husband at services this Sunday,” said Tait severely. “There are two services, early and late. Most true Christians choose to attend both.”

Eloise made no reply to this. Could he not understand that she and Ian had arrived only last night and that decisions about religious observance had not been their first priority?

Thankfully, the arrival of tea made it easier to change the subject. Eloise thanked Mrs. Kershaw, who had brought in the tray in person. Another adjustment that needed to be made to Ian’s household. The list was growing longer, and this was only her first day.

While she poured out tea, handed the cup to her guest and urged him to take oatcakes, Eloise kept up a barrage of everyday observations on the weather, the lovely scenery, her first impressions of Hawick as a busy place and her anticipation of getting to know the neighbourhood better.

Mr. Tait stubbornly refused to take the hint. “I understand you were married very recently, Mrs. Kerr,” he began. “Was it a Presbyterian ceremony?”

Faced with a direct question, Eloise was stumped. She had no idea. Taking a sip of her tea and pressing her guest to take more oatcakes, she managed to buy a little time. “We were married by Mr. Selkirk, the, ah, minister of St. Andrew’s in Berwick,” she said, determined to offer no more information and relieved she had remembered both the minister’s name and that of his church. If he was a minister. She was not sure. Turning the direction of the conversation became urgent. “My husband is not at home, Mr. Tait. I am sure he will be sorry to learn he missed your visit. He has business on the estate, I understand. This is my first day here at Roxholme, you see. I am sure you can appreciate that I have a great many tasks ahead of me. Perhaps when I am a little more settled, I may be permitted to call upon Mrs. Tait in return.” This was as close as she could come to telling her visitor to leave. It was not quite close enough. Tait’s mouth turned down, but he stayed the full half hour, asking question after question. How had she met her husband, was it true that she was recently widowed, had she met her step-daughter yet, and on it went. The questions were impertinent in themselves, but from a complete stranger, they were outrageously rude. Eloise held on to her temper and simply changed the subject and asked questions about the size of the congregation and the location of the church and what charitable groups met there.

Finally, he rose to leave, and Eloise rose too. “You must promise me, Mrs. Kerr, that you and Mr. Kerr will attend services this Sunday. It is so very urgent for the best families to take a stand against loose behaviour and carelessness in church attendance, do you not agree?”

That was going too far. “I am sure you will agree, Mr. Tait, that good behaviour requires me to consult my husband before making promises of any kind, particularly as this is, as I mentioned, my first day here. If you have any concerns about this family’s religious observance, Mr. Tait, I request that you direct your inquiries to my husband. Good day.” And she drove him before her with the force of her anger, palpable if invisible. When the drawing room door closed behind him, and Dickson was finally seeing to his duty in escorting the guest to the front door, Eloise put her back against the drawing room door and stood there, quietly fuming for a few minutes. Then she walked into the hall, her heels making the floor tiles ring with her annoyance.

“Dickson, Mrs. Kershaw, please attend me right away.” Her voice was loud and more self-assured than she felt. She turned on her heel and went back into the drawing room, where the two senior staff came to stand in front of her like school children called up for discipline.

“Mr. Dickson, is it not your duty to answer the door in this house? Are you not the butler?

Dickson replied in the affirmative, soft-voiced.

“And Mrs. Kershaw, you are the housekeeper, is that not correct?”

The older woman just nodded.

“Then I would like to clarify my expectations of my butler and my housekeeper. Dickson, unexpected callers are to be told that you will inquire if I am at home. They will be shown to the morning room and you will collect their cards, and then you will consult me “as to whether I am receiving callers. Nobody else is to answer the door unless you are carrying out other duties on my husband’s orders. Is that clear?”

Dickson indicated that it was clear.

“Furthermore, is urgent that we engage a footman or install a bell so that I am not required to shout to be attended by any servant. I expect you to see to it immediately.”

The butler bowed silently. Mrs. Kershaw looked mutinous. She turned to go.

Eloise waited until she was two steps away and then spoke. “Mrs. Kershaw, I do not expect you to answer the door or to serve tea in person. If Dickson is not available, a housemaid can attend to the door, provided that she has been taught to receive callers in the way I just outlined. She can also bring the tray if needed.”

With that, Eloise retreated upstairs to her room where she walked up and down, trying to get her anger under control, wondering what Ian would say, if his servants would complain about her, if he would be angry. Well, and if he was angry, what of it? She was angry, too. When Ian had said his household was not all it should be, he was not exaggerating. He would have to support her on this, or she could not run his household as it should be run. She had a long wait to confront Ian. He did not return that evening till long after she had gone to bed.

***

The following morning, Ian was in the breakfast room waiting for Eloise to come down. He was pacing. Dickson had told him about Tait’s visit the previous afternoon. Bloody Tait! The nosy bugger couldn’t wait to come sniffing around Ian’s new wife. God only knows what they had talked about. And the servants had disappointed him. He had expected trouble from Mrs. Kershaw, but for Dickson to make such an error was outrageous. Eloise must be so angry. Worse, she might think he encouraged his servants to disobey her. It had to be dealt with immediately.

Ian rose when Eloise entered the room, and he remained standing even after she had put a few things on a plate and sat down to her tea. She looked up, and his conscience smote him. She looked worse today, as if she had not slept at all. Well, there was one thing he could set right, and it would be done now. Instead of taking his own seat at the other end of the table, he came round, pulled up a chair beside her, and tried a tentative smile.

“I understand you had an unexpected caller yesterday,” he began. “I suppose Tait couldn’t wait another minute to start poking his nose into my business. Would you mind telling me what he wanted?”

Eloise recounted briefly the questions Mr. Tait had asked and her limited responses. Ian was impressed with her presence of mind and said so.

“You seem to have fobbed him off most admirably, and apparently without losing your temper,” he said.

That brought a small smile from Eloise. “Well, not completely,” she admitted.

Ian grinned. “Tait tries everyone’s patience. I will send him a note today inviting him to call upon me. He will get the hint. You must not feel obliged in any way to attend services if you do not wish to. At least not for the time being. You can hardly have found your feet here yet. And that reminds me.” He turned to the door and called for Dickson, who had clearly been waiting outside. “Ask Mrs. Kershaw to step in,” Ian said, “and join us.”

Mrs. Kershaw and Dickson hurried to attend Ian. He did not get up and did not raise his voice, but his words cut to the bone. “I had thought it unnecessary to instruct my senior staff in their duties after so many years of service. I am disappointed to find that my wife did not receive the competent service from you yesterday that she has a right to expect and that I absolutely insist on.”

Dickson shifted nervously on his feet, and Mrs. Kershaw’s eyes dropped.

“Mrs. Kerr is your mistress now. She is in charge of this household. Her instructions will be obeyed promptly and to the letter. I hope that will not need repeating.”

Stone-faced, the servants accepted his rebuke.

“Further, it should have been obvious to you both that my wife should be consulted before callers are admitted. I realize I have lived here in a very informal way for years, but I did not think you had both lost all sense of what is proper and due to your mistress. That is all.”

Mrs. Kershaw and Dickson made formal apologies to Eloise before backing out of the room, stunned at Ian’s rare and severe rebuke.

Eloise held on until they were gone, but then she broke down and cried, covering her face with her kerchief. Ian turned to her, took her hand, tried to take her in his arms to comfort her, but she pushed him away and ran from the room. Upstairs, she threw herself on her bed and sobbed. It was all going wrong. She had already dealt with the servants. She had not needed Ian to speak for her as if she were an incompetent child. Now they would never respect her. Nothing was going right. The child not here, the household set against her, and Ian – she felt more distant from him every day. Musgrave had ruined them both more thoroughly than he could ever have hoped for.

***

Ian stood where Eloise had left him, completely at a loss. Was he always to be cursed in marriage? Was it marriage as such that he simply did not understand? He thought Eloise liked him. Before their marriage, before the disaster in Berwick, she had seemed at ease with him, often smiling, always glad to see him. Well, of course she had. He had been her only visitor and her lifeline. Now that she was free and safe here, she had changed. Captain Kerr had warned him. So had Musgrave and even Jasper. Eloise would accept his proposal because she had no choice, not because she cared for him. And here was the result already. Suddenly angry, Ian stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him. He strode down to the stables to take Delilah, his favourite fell pony, out for a run on the moors. He stopped. Was he running from trouble? How and when had he turned into a man who ran from his responsibilities? Eloise was upset. She was crying, and he was leaving her alone in a house full of strangers to go nurse his own grievance? It had to end. Ian stalked back to the house.

At the front door, Dickson intercepted him. “Please may I speak to you, sir?” he asked.

“Not now, Dickson. I must see my wife.”

“Please sir, it will only take a moment. It is important. Before you speak to Mrs. Kerr.”

Ian stopped and turned slowly to rake Dickson with his glance from top to bottom. “What is this about, and what does it have to do with my wife?” he asked coldly.

“Begging your pardon, sir, it is about yesterday. After Mr. Tait left, Mrs. Kerr spoke to us, to Mrs. Kershaw and me. She made her displeasure very clear, sir, and she reminded us of our duties and explained how she wanted callers to be received from now on. She was very clear, sir. We would not have disobeyed her, sir. Not again.”

Ian thought for a while. “She already dealt with it, did she? And probably better than I did. Ah, Dickson, I have forgotten how a household is supposed to be run. Forget what I said, and tell Mrs. Kershaw the same. Just do what Mrs. Kerr asks of you, bearing in mind you are still my valet.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ian ran up the stairs and tapped on Eloise’s door. Invited to enter, he stepped in. She was sitting at the desk that had been his mother’s, looking out the window, her forehead resting in her hand in an attitude of complete dejection.

“I understand that I interfered unnecessarily this morning,” Ian began. “I am afraid I trespassed on what is your responsibility.”

Eloise looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Dickson explained to me just now that you had already dealt with him and Mrs. Kershaw and that the matter was settled. You did not need me to defend you. I meant well; I was angry that you had been badgered by Tait and not given the proper respect by the staff. But I should have consulted you before speaking. I am sorry, Eloise. I have been alone here a long time. I simply forgot.”

Eloise got up and came towards him. “Thank you for saying that. As you know, I managed a household much larger than this for almost ten years. It was the task I thought would be the easiest of all that lay before me. But when you spoke for me, it made me feel incompetent and useless.”

“I can well imagine it. I will not make this mistake again. Neither will Mrs. Kershaw or Dickson.”

Eloise nodded, and they shared a shaky, uncertain smile. One day at a time, Ian thought. One day at a time.