The Rise of Miss Notley (Tanglewood Book 2)

by Rachael Anderson

  Sally began rattling off everything that took place in the still room—what each gadget was used for, where the recipes were kept, what herbs were currently hanging on the line. Then she went on to explain the extensive variety of foodstuffs that were made in the room. She used words Cora had never heard before and spoke so quickly that it sounded like a different language. It didn't take long for Cora's mind to whirl, wonder, and worry. Was that cloth used to roll sugars or was it a cleaning rag? What was distillation, exactly? Had Sally said "cask"? If so, what was it used for and how? Would Cora really be required to know how to restore flat wines and make pastries? Surely that responsibility fell to the cook, did it not? She couldn't remember Mr. Ludlow mentioning anything about pastries.

  The more Sally prattled, the more smug and arrogant she became, as though she took great satisfaction from overwhelming the new housekeeper. It wasn't long before Cora began to wonder if the wooden mallet could also be used to strike the housemaid.

  When Sally finally finished her speech, she had the audacity to approach Cora with a swing in her hips and a challenge in her eyes. "You know nothin' about 'ousekeepin', do you? 'Appen the only reason you got the position over me is because you's younger and prettier. Watch and see. As soon as Mr. Ludlow 'as 'is fun with you, you'll be out on your backside quicker than Katy Thompson."

  She purposefully bumped into Cora's shoulder on her way out of the room, and Cora let her leave without comment. No good would come from sparring with Sally now, not when the woman was in such a foul mood. Cora's father and his quick temper had taught her that much. But it irked her that she had to stand by and keep her mouth shut when she had a great deal she wanted to say to the maid.

  What sort of household was this? And what had Sally meant about Katy Thompson? Was Mr. Ludlow the reason Katy had left? Had he trifled with her then tossed her out once he'd tired of her? Was that why he'd been through so many servants and why the Shepherds seemed so concerned? Cora couldn't think of another explanation.

  She frowned and clenched her jaw as anger took a self-righteous hold on her spirit. Apparently Harry wasn't the only person who needed clarification on boundaries.

  "Has Mrs. Notley arrived yet, Mrs. Caddy?" a deep, reverberating voice echoed from the kitchen, sounding like a soft rumble of thunder.

  "Only just," snipped Mrs. Caddy.

  Before the cook could say anything more, Cora strode purposefully from the still room. She nearly ran into a small, timid-looking girl, who ducked past her. The still room maid? Cora wondered briefly before pushing the thought aside and focusing on the man in front of her. Tall and large, with the broadest shoulders she'd ever seen, the man's upper body resembled the shape of a box. Cora couldn't help but wonder how his long, lean legs managed the weight. He appeared so out of balance. Even his aged face was more square than oval, with deep grooves surrounding his mouth and eyes.

  This must be Watts, she thought.

  "Hello," said Cora. "I am Mrs. Notley."

  "So you have come at last," he said.

  Cora refrained from informing him that she had arrived an hour earlier. "I apologize if I have kept anyone waiting."

  "Your timing is most convenient," he said in a formal manner, not sounding upset at all. "I have been instructed to broaden your understanding of Tanglewood and your duties, and have only now been able to make myself free enough to do so. If you had arrived earlier, you would have been made to wait. I am Watts, the butler here at Tanglewood."

  Sorely tempted to arch an eyebrow at Mrs. Caddy with a look that said, Hear that? My timing is convenient, Cora instead focused her attention on the butler. "It is good to meet you, Watts. I will appreciate whatever help you can give me."

  "Shall we begin upstairs?" he asked. "As the housekeeper, you will need to understand the exacting standards the maids are expected to maintain. If a job is not properly done, both you and the maid will be held responsible as you are her direct supervisor."

  "Of course." Cora prayed the list of expectations for the upstairs rooms would be shorter and less foreign to her than that of the still room.

  Watts walked from the kitchen with long and fast strides, and Cora had to be quick on her feet to maintain pace with him. They arrived in the great hall just as the front door opened. Mr. Ludlow strode inside, looking as impeccably dressed and handsome as he had in their first meeting. He nodded to Watts and Cora before stripping off his riding gloves and handing them to an accompanying valet or a footman—Cora couldn't be sure which. The servant merely accepted the gloves and disappeared down a hall.

  "Good day, Mr. Ludlow." Watts's voice boomed through the vast space, filling it with a richness that Cora found oddly comforting.

  "Good day, Watts." Mr. Ludlow's gaze slipped to Cora. "And you as well, Mrs. Notley. I hope you have been made to feel welcome and have not been too overwhelmed on your first day here. Your dress seems to fit all right."

  "Yes," said Cora stiffly. Was that appreciation she spied in his gaze? The thought further rankled her, and she determined to speak with him as soon as possible. "Sir, there is a small matter I wish to discuss with you when you have a moment."

  Mr. Ludlow looked a bit surprised, and Watt's immediately came to his rescue. "Is it something I might be able to help you with, Mrs. Notley? Mr. Ludlow is a busy man."

  "I understand," said Cora. "But I'm afraid this is a matter only Mr. Ludlow can clarify for me—not an urgent one, by any means. Any spare moment will suffice."

  After a brief hesitation, Mr. Ludlow gestured to a lovely room located at the side of the great hall. "I have a few moments now, Mrs. Notley. Would you care to join me in the parlor?"

  "Oh, I did not mean…" Cora cast a concerned look at the butler. She had not expected an immediate interview with her employer. "Watts was about to show me—"

  "If now is convenient for Mr. Ludlow, it is convenient for me," said Watts. "You will find me in the kitchen once you have finished your conversation."

  Cora nodded and followed Mr. Ludlow into the parlor. He closed the doors and stood in front of them with his arms folded, looking far more intimidating than he had during their last meeting. He said nothing, merely lifted an inquiring eyebrow and waited.

  Caught unprepared, Cora stared at him, trying to organize her thoughts into words. After a few moments of awkward silence, he lost patience. "What is it you wished to speak with me about, Mrs. Notley? Or are we to stand here staring at each other all afternoon?"

  Not knowing how else to begin, Cora blurted, "Why have you hired me, sir?"

  He blinked a few times before frowning. "I believe I have made that perfectly clear. You are to be the housekeeper, are you not?"

  This was going to be more difficult than she had imagined. "Yes, of course, but there has been some talk about, or rather concerns expressed…" How did one put this delicately?

  "About…?" he prodded, obviously not thrilled that his morning regime had been waylaid.

  "About the reasons I have been offered the position," she quickly said, hoping that would be enough to make him understand her meaning.

  Unfortunately, his brows drew together in confusion. "What are you saying, Mrs. Notley? I have hired you to do certain duties that will hopefully make my household run more smoothly. What other reason could I possibly have for offering you the position?"

  "You have hired me to do a job I am untrained to do," she said. "While I am grateful for the opportunity, I also find it necessary to clarify that I have come here to be a housekeeper and only a housekeeper. Even though I am young and…" Her voice drifted off. Had she almost referred to herself as pretty? Goodness, this was proving to be very awkward indeed.

  "Beautiful?" he finally guessed, not looking at all pleased with the direction the conversation was taking.

  "I was going to say not repulsive," she fibbed.

  "Very well," he said. "Even though you are young and not repulsive…" He moved his hand in a circular gesture, urging her to finish her thought.

&n
bsp; Cora straightened her shoulders and forced herself to continue. "I am not the sort of girl who would ever… fraternize with her employer." Her face infused with heat, but she forced her gaze to remain steady.

  "I see." He walked slowly towards her, rubbing his chin with his hand. A few steps away, he stopped and eyed her quizzically. "Have I made any improper advances towards you?"

  "No, sir."

  "Have I spoken to you in an unprofessional manner?"

  "No."

  "Have I looked at you in a way that has made you feel uncomfortable?"

  "No." Cora thought of how he'd noticed her dress fit well, but it would be ridiculous to mention something so inconsequential. She suddenly wished she had not felt the need to clarify anything. He made her feel as though she had put the cart before the horse when what she had been trying to do was see that the cart and horse simply stayed in their proper places. Was that so wrong?

  "Might I ask who, exactly, has led you to believe that I am the sort of man capable of, how did you put it? Fraternizing with my help?"

  "I, er, would rather not say, sir." Though Cora felt no loyalty towards Sally, she refused to bring Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd's names into the conversation. "I did not mean to besmirch your name or cause any offense, Mr. Ludlow. I merely wanted to make my feelings on the matter clear."

  "And you have."

  "Good." Cora dropped into a quick curtsy, anxious to get away. "I shall go and find Watts now."

  She was almost to the door when his voice stopped her. "Once again, you are attempting to scuttle away before we have completed our conversation."

  Slowly, she turned around and lifted her eyes to his. "I never scuttle, sir."

  "What would you call that rapid walk of yours?"

  "A rapid walk," she said quickly, making him chuckle. "And I apologize. I had thought our conversation finished."

  "No," he said. "You merely wished for it to be finished."

  "And you do not?" How could he not wish to put this awkward business behind them?

  "I think it only fair that I be given the opportunity to explain my thoughts on the matter."

  Cora clasped her fingers together and did her best not to fidget.

  Mr. Ludlow's gaze dropped to the carpet, and he began a slow and steady walk around her person as though deep in thought. Once he had circled all the way around, he stopped in front of her and looked directly into her eyes. "Mrs. Notley, I would like you to know that your youth, inexperience, and… non-repulsiveness"—His lips twitched a little at that—"did not weigh at all in your favor. In fact, they weighed against you. What impressed me most was your integrity. That is not a trait a person can learn, the way one might learn to carve a ham or arrange a platter. Rather, it is a quality that comes from within and one I happen to value far greater than experience, age, or… beauty." He smiled, revealing that charming dimple.

  Cora suddenly felt as though her heart would dash right out of her chest. It pounded and thudded, echoing loudly in her ears. No one had ever looked at her with such warmth or complimented her with such plain speaking. She couldn't help but feel drawn to him in a way that was not appropriate at all to her new station. She immediately broke eye contact.

  "Thank you for explaining that to me, Mr. Ludlow. It relieves my mind greatly. I shall strive to not disappoint the trust you have bestowed upon me."

  "I'm sure you shall."

  She refused to look at him, worried he'd see her attraction written plainly across her face. If only she could find him a little repulsive. "Am I excused now, sir?"

  "You may go."

  "Thank you." She dipped into a quick curtsy and did her absolute best not to scuttle from the room.

  "Mr. Ludlow is requestin' ter see you in the drawin' room, Mrs. Notley." The gleeful way Sally spoke told Cora that whatever her employer wished to speak to her about would not be good.

  Cora set aside the mallet she was using to pound sugar and opened and closed her hands, trying to relieve the soreness in her palms and fingers. Already calluses were beginning to form. Her weary body ached in places she did not think it could ache, and it had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to pull herself from her bed that morning. It was a good kind of weary—the kind that made her too tired to fear what was to come.

  Her one thought of What have I done now? was more lackluster than concerned.

  Cora's first week of work had been disastrous. It seemed she was destined to learn the proper way of things by doing them completely wrong. On the day she'd gone to market, she had made what she thought was an excellent bargain on a particularly tender cut of beef, but upon returning to Tanglewood, Mrs. Caddy had taken one look at the parcel and tossed it into the trash. She proceeded to give Cora an earful about wasting good shillings on meat not fit for even the animals. She did not explain why it was unfit for humans or animals, merely berated Cora for several minutes, as though a sound lecture would keep her from purchasing bad meat again. It was Watts who had pulled her aside in the end, offering a kind tutorial about the color and qualities she needed to look for in fresh meat and how one negotiated a fair price for it. Cora's esteem for Watts grew a great deal after that.

  Not quite a day later, a once-white tablecloth she had taken upon herself to wash had emerged from the water with a decidedly lavender hue to it. Lavender, in a bachelor's household! When Cora turned to Watts for help, he'd reached into the tub and fished out a handful of soggy flower petals, holding them out for her inspection.

  "The petals might give the cloth a pleasing scent, but surely you know that the color will bleed off the petals and dye the cloth permanently. I'm afraid it will be impossible to return this to its former white now."

  Cora had found it necessary to defend herself. "I may be inexperienced, Watts, but I am not a widgeon. I know how cloth is dyed and I did not add those petals to the wash basin. I merely mixed in soap and a bit of that powdery substance in that jar, like the laundry maid taught me to do."

  "Perhaps next time you should make sure there are no petals in the basin before you begin."

  Cora had almost told him the tub had been clean as well—she had made sure of it—but then she recalled that she had not shaken out the cloth before adding it to the water. Some of the purple chrysanthemums she had used as table decorations the night before must have been carried away with it, so it was her doing after all.

  Cora stared down at the soggy and ruined cloth. Perhaps Mr. Ludlow would come to enjoy this particular shade of lavender? The sympathetic look on Watts's face had not given her much hope.

  Unfortunately, that was not the end of her misfortunes. She had also burned her first attempt at pastries and filled the kitchen with an awful-smelling smoke that lingered in the air the remainder of the day, and, according to Mrs. Caddy, gave every meal a pungent flavor. After that, there had been the broken vase, the kitchen curtain that had caught fire when she placed a burning candle too close to it, and her first attempt at a restorative tea gone very wrong. Mr. Ludlow had sent the tea back directly, along with a note for Cora that read:

  The tea may not have helped the ache in my head but it certainly restored my stamina. I have never scuttled from my bed so quickly.

  Cora wasn't sure what to think of such a missive—at least not until Harry had taken it upon himself to sample the tea. He immediately ran to the sink and spit it out.

  That is what he meant by scuttle, Cora thought dismally.

  "What the blimey did you put in that?" he gasped, downing a mug of ale to ward off the flavor.

  Cora had later discovered she'd added cayenne and not cinnamon as the recipe had called for. But in her defense, the two bottles had been shelved incorrectly, and they looked so much alike that she had not realized the difference until she had dipped her finger into the tea and tasted it herself. The heat that burned her tongue told her something other than cinnamon had been added.

  That had been yesterday, and now, only hours before her first afternoon off, Cora was being summoned
for yet another problem. Why else would Mr. Ludlow be requesting an audience with her at this time of morning? If everything was running as it should, he would leave her to it.

  Outside Mr. Ludlow's study, Cora squared her shoulders and walked in, mustering all the energy she still possessed.

  Mr. Ludlow was seated in a large wingback chair, staring at a tray of sweet rolls that Mrs. Caddy had made earlier.

  "Do have a seat, Mrs. Notley," he said, gesturing to the armchair across from him.

  Cora sank down slowly, eyeing him with apprehension. He didn't seem angry or annoyed, merely thoughtful. Was that good or bad? Perhaps he only wanted to discuss upcoming plans with her.

  He picked up a plate containing one of the sweet rolls and held it out to Cora. "Might I offer you some refreshment?"

  She shook her head slowly, thinking how very odd of him to say such a thing to his housekeeper. Mrs. Caddy had made those for visitors, not housekeepers. "No thank you, sir. I am not hungry."

  "Mrs. Caddy is quite famous for her sweet rolls in these parts. You really ought to at least try one."

  Thus persuaded, Cora accepted the plate and took a small bite of the roll. The bread was light and wonderful, but the blueberry preserves—the ones Cora had made only two days prior—gave it an overpowering salty flavor that caused her to wince and almost choke. She had to force herself to swallow the bite and immediately wished for a cup of something to wash it down.

  Mr. Ludlow offered her some tea, which she accepted gratefully.

  "Those preserves are dreadful," she finally spluttered, her face heating in shame.

  He leaned against the back of his chair and rested his hands on the arms. "I'm glad we are in agreement on that. I might have thought it was only me, but my recent visitor, Mr. Shepherd, seemed to have similar thoughts about the roll, considering one bite was all he took as well."