He shook his head, realizing that his wife had made her own bed. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. She was quite a capable woman.
Ovens excepted, of course.
Charles wandered downstairs to the breakfast room, but instead of his wife, he found only Helen, Claire, and Judith.
"Charles!" Claire cried out upon seeing him enter through the doorway. She jumped to her feet.
"And how is my favorite fourteen-year-old cousin this bright morning?" he said as he took her hand and gallantly kissed it. Young girls loved that sort of romantic nonsense, and he doted on Claire enough to remember to treat her to such grand gestures.
"I am very well, thank you," Claire replied. "Won't you join us for breakfast?"
"I think I will," Charles murmured as he took a seat.
"We are not," Claire added, "having toast."
This earned her a reproving look from Helen, but Charles couldn't help but chuckle as he speared a slice of ham.
"You may kiss my hand, too," Judith said.
"A pox on me for having forgotten," Charles said, rising to his feet. He took Judith's hand and raised it to his lips. "My dear Princess Judith, a thousand apologies."
Judith giggled as Charles sat back down. "Where is my wife, I wonder?" he said.
"I have not seen her," Claire put in.
Helen cleared her throat. "Eleanor and I are both early risers, and I saw her here at breakfast before Claire and Judith came down."
"Was she eating toast?" her older daughter asked.
Charles coughed to cover a laugh. Really, it wouldn't do to laugh at one's wife in front of one's relations. Even if one was tremendously displeased with said wife.
"I believe she had a biscuit," Helen said sharply. "And I will ask you not to bring up the matter again, Claire. Your new cousin is very sensitive about the mishap."
"She is my cousin-in-law. And it wasn't a mishap. It was a fire."
"It was yesterday," Charles interjected, "and I have completely forgotten it."
Claire frowned, and Helen continued with, "I believe Ellie said she was planning to inspect the orangery. She mentioned that she is an avid gardener."
"Is the orangery fireproof?" Claire asked.
Charles leveled a stern stare in her direction. "Claire, that is enough."
Claire frowned again but kept quiet.
Then, as the three of them regarded each other in silence, a sharp cry pierced the air.
"Fire!"
"See!" Claire yelled, sounding a bit smug. "See! I told you she would set fire to the orangery."
"Another fire?" Judith asked, looking rather delighted by the prospect. "Oh, Ellie is ever so exciting."
"Judith," her mother said in a weary voice, "fires are not exciting. And Claire, you know very well that is only Aunt Cordelia. I am certain nothing is on fire."
As if just to prove Helen's point, Cordelia ran through the breakfast room, letting out another cry of, "Fire!" She skidded past the table and through the doorway to the formal dining room, off to destinations unknown.
"There," Helen said. "It is just Cordelia. There is no fire."
Charles was inclined to agree with Helen, but after the previous day's blaze, he found himself a touch nervous. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood. "Er, I believe I will take a short walk," he improvised. He didn't want his cousins to think he was checking up on his wife.
"But you barely touched your food," Claire protested.
"I'm not very hungry," Charles said quickly, mentally calculating how fast a fire could spread in the orangery. "I'll see you at the midday meal." He turned on his heel and strode out, breaking into a run as soon as he was out of sight of the breakfast room.
* * *
Ellie patted the dirt around a flowering bush, marveling at the wondrous orangery. She had heard of such structures before, but had never actually seen one. The climate was kept warm enough to grow plants all year 'round, even orange trees, which she knew preferred a more tropical clime. Her mouth watered as she touched the leaves of the orange tree. It wasn't giving fruit now but come spring and summer—oh, it would be lovely.
She could get used to luxury, she decided, if it meant that she could eat oranges all summer long.
She wandered about the orangery, inspecting the various plants. Ellie couldn't wait to get her hands on some of the rosebushes. She had loved to putter about in her father's garden. This had to be the best benefit from her hasty marriage—the opportunity to garden all year long.
She was kneeling down, trying to get a sense of the root system of a particular plant, when she heard a fast footfall growing near. As she looked up, she saw Charles dash into the orangery. Or rather, he dashed to the doorway, then deliberately slowed his pace, as if he didn't want her to know he'd been running.
"Oh," she said flatly. "It's you."
"Were you expecting someone else?" He looked around the room, apparently searching for something.
"Of course not. I simply didn't think you would seek me out."
"Why would you think that?" he asked distractedly, still obviously looking for something.
Ellie stared at him. "Have you a deficient memory, my lord?"
He didn't appear to hear her, so she said loudly, "Charles!"
His head snapped around. "Yes?"
"What are you looking for?"
"Nothing."
Just then Cordelia dashed into the orangery and yelled, "Fire! There's a fire, I say!"
Ellie watched her new great-aunt run back out, then turned to Charles with an accusing expression. "You thought I set fire to the orangery, didn't you?"