The Rise of Miss Notley (Tanglewood Book 2)

by Rachael Anderson

  Cora straightened at the news. It felt like ages since she had seen the Shepherds, and the mere mention of their name made her yearn for more.

  "Mr. Shepherd was here?" she asked, belatedly realizing how odd her question must have sounded.

  Mr. Ludlow lifted his brow. "Do you know him?"

  Cora hesitated with her answer, choosing her words carefully. "I know he is well liked by his servants." Katy had rambled on about her employers and how dear they were to all in the household. In the short duration Cora had known the Shepherds, they had become dear to her as well. "Sir, I am truly sorry about the preserves. I do not know what happened."

  "I would venture a guess that you mistook the salt for sugar," he said.

  "Yes, I had gathered as much as well," said Cora. What she didn't understand was how the salt came to be in the sugar jar, for she was certain she had read the label correctly—or, at least she thought she had. Apparently she could never be certain about anything anymore. It only served to get her into trouble.

  Would this be the end of it, then? Had Mr. Ludlow finally had enough of her, and after only one week? Cora sat with her fingers clasped on her lap, waiting for him to tell her as much. But he continued to gaze at the tray of sweet rolls while rubbing his chin in thought.

  Finally, his eyes looked her way, and he quirked an eyebrow. "What, no preemptive leaving this time?"

  "I have not been dismissed, sir," she said.

  The edges of his mouth raised slightly—not enough for his dimple to appear, but enough for Cora to notice that he approved of her answer. "So you can be taught," he said.

  "Eventually," she answered.

  He emitted a small chuckle. "Glad to hear it. I have invited a few business associates to Tanglewood on Friday next and would very much like everything to run as smoothly as possible. They will be here the entire weekend."

  She blinked at him a few times before his words registered, and she realized she was not being relieved of her duties—at least not at this moment.

  "I understand, sir." Cora swallowed, also realizing the pressure she would be under to see that everything went well for his guests. Had he said an entire weekend? "I will be sure to sample all of the food before it is served to you and your guests."

  "I would appreciate that," he said.

  Cora nodded, waiting for him to say that she could leave.

  As though reading her thoughts, he added, "You may go, Mrs. Notley."

  She immediately stood and made for the door, but he called her back as soon as her fingers touched the knob.

  "Mrs. Notley, would you be so kind as to take this tray of sweet rolls with you?"

  Her face suffused with heat. She should have thought of that herself. "Certainly, Mr. Ludlow."

  "It would probably be wise for you to not give Mrs. Caddy an opportunity to taste those as well."

  "I had already drawn that conclusion, sir," said Cora as she took the tray. "I thought the pigs might enjoy them."

  He smiled. "I'm sure Mrs. Caddy would be gratified to know that her morning's labors went to such worthy creatures."

  "I will not tell her if you will not." Cora worried she was overstepping the bounds by saying as much, but from the glint of humor in his eyes, he did not think her remark out of line.

  "And if the pigs should decide they want sweet—or rather, salty—rolls every morning?" he asked.

  "Considering I made a dozen jars of these particular preserves, that should not be a problem." Cora frowned at the reminder, wondering how she would remove all traces of the salty fruit without Mrs. Caddy noticing.

  Mr. Ludlow barked out a laugh. His dimple appeared, causing her stomach to twist into pleasurable knots. He was so very handsome. "Perhaps when the pigs go to slaughter, the meat will already contain enough salt for preservation."

  "Sir, you should not say such vulgar things in front of a lady," she teased, enjoying the banter far more than she should. The moment his expression became quizzical, she realized her slip of the tongue.

  "Are you a lady, Mrs. Notley?"

  She had not meant to imply such a thing, nor had she meant to strike up what he might consider a flirtation. She blamed her wayward tongue on her exhaustion and knew she would need to guard herself better in the future.

  "I am a housekeeper, sir. That is all." With the tray balanced between her arms, she turned and quit the room. Thankfully, he did not call her back.

  When Cora returned to the kitchen after feeding all traces of the salty rolls to the pigs, she spotted a maid placing what remained of the rolls into a basket with Watts overseeing her progress. He caught Cora's eye and gave her a hint of a knowing smile.

  "Mrs. Notley," he said. "I am glad you are here at last. Mr. Ludlow would like these rolls, along with your… flavorful preserves, to be taken to those who might have more need of them than we."

  Cora was more than happy to approve this plan and made a mental note to thank Mr. Ludlow for his thoughtfulness the next time she saw him.

  "I don't know why they all need ter go," grumbled Mrs. Caddy. She cast a longing look at the basket and added, "Mr. Ludlow usually gives us what's left."

  "He is sorry that he cannot do so with this lot," said Watts. "But if it is not too much trouble, Mrs. Caddy, he has asked that you make some of your wonderful Banbury cakes to share with the staff as a replacement, so long as you remember to use cinnamon and cloves and not cayenne." Watts gave Cora a subtle wink, and she found herself stifling a conspiratorial smile. He had come to her aid more than once in his kind, fatherly way, and she could not deny that she was growing vastly fond of him.

  Mrs. Caddy did not recognize the comment as a rib and immediately bristled. "I've never mistaken cayenne for cinnamon!"

  "Are those the sweet rolls made with Mrs. Notley's blackberry preserves?" Sally ask when she entered the room. Normally, the mere sound of her voice grated on Cora's nerves, but this time it was a welcome interruption—at least until Sally snatched one of the rolls from the basket.

  "I think I'll have a taste." She took a small bite and immediately spit it out, uttering a sort of snorting noise that sounded most unladylike. Cora might have laughed if not for the sour look on Sally's face. "Gads, what did you do ter those blackberries? Drown them in salt?"

  Cora thought the comment rather tame for her. "They'll last a great deal longer now, will they not?"

  Sally glowered. "I thought even simple folk know the difference between salt and sugar."

  Cora sighed, wondering if Sally had any sense of humor at all. How dreary life would be if one could not see the comedy in situations such as these. For just a moment, she found herself pitying Sally.

  "What are you talking about?" Mrs. Caddy's short legs strode over. "What's wrong with me rolls?"

  "Nothin' at all, I'm sure." Sally directed a look of triumph at Cora. "It's Mrs. Notley's preserves that's the problem."

  Mrs. Caddy took a bite, and her mouth immediately twisted in revulsion, looking a bit like a mound of dough that had been punched down in the middle.

  She glared at Cora. "You knew, and you were goin' ter stand there and let Watts deliver these rolls—my rolls—to the villagers so they'll think me cookin's gone to pots?"

  "Of course not," said Watts. "These are going to the goats, not the villagers."

  "Goats!" Mrs. Caddy cried, her face going red.

  Cora cringed, wondering what Mrs. Caddy would say if she discovered the first offerings had already been given to the pigs.

  "Goats will eat anything," said Watts good-naturedly. "But if you consider that too wasteful, perhaps you have a better suggestion?"

  Mrs. Caddy's pudgy fingers formed fists as she glared at the butler. "I think Mrs. Notley should be made ter eat every last crumb. 'Appen then she'll learn ter make preserves."

  Watts did not appear to like the comment. His eyes narrowed, and his voice became hard and firm. "I find it rather interesting, Mrs. Caddy, that you did not taste the preserves before this moment. You usual
ly help yourself to quite a few samples of the food as you're preparing it. One might think you sent those sweet rolls up to Mr. Ludlow and his guest knowing what they were."

  "How dare you be accusin' me of such things!" Mrs. Caddy seethed, her face becoming an unnatural shade of purple.

  "And how dare you expect perfection from a woman who is not as experienced as you. I'll wager your first attempts at making sweet rolls did not go so well either. Perhaps if you remembered that, and realized that Mrs. Notley is doing her best, you would be kinder and more helpful so that she might learn her duties better instead of being made to feel worse at every turn."

  Mrs. Caddy had nothing to say to this. She clenched her jaw and stormed back to work, chopping the vegetables with gusto. Cora resisted the urge to break into applause and throw her arms around Watts. He had quieted the ruckus with a handful of sentences, and even Sally seemed to think it best to skulk away. Cora hoped that meant the subject of salty blackberry preserves would be forever put to rest.

  She sent Watts a smile, mouthed "thank you," and grabbed a bucket off the counter with the intent to pick more blackberries. Even though she would be free to leave in another hour, Cora wanted to try to right her latest wrong. If she had to spend a few hours of her afternoon off making more blackberry preserves, so be it. With any luck, all would go well and she could still pop in at Knotting Tree for a quick visit with the Shepherds. After this week, she needed to see their kind faces again.

  From the corner of her eye, she spotted Alice, the still room maid, scrubbing a pot at the sink. Cora hesitated at the door, not sure what to make of the girl. It was apparent she was a hard worker, but she spoke only when spoken to and had always been timid in her replies. Not wishing to cause her undue distress, Cora had mostly left her to her duties while she tried to learn hers, but watching the girl hunch over the sink, Cora wondered if Alice also felt like an outsider.

  "Alice," Cora called, making the poor girl jump and spin around. She had an anxious look about her as though she feared being scolded for scrubbing pots.

  Cora picked up another bucket and held it out to her. "I am wondering if you might venture out with me to pick some more blackberries. It's a lovely day, and I think the outdoors will do us both some good. I could also use your help making more preserves, if you'd be so kind. Something tells me that you know a great deal more about the difference between salt and sugar than I."

  The girl's expression relaxed a little, and she cautiously accepted the bucket. Cora took it as a good sign and smiled as she led the girl outside. Perhaps today would not be the culmination of a dreadful week after all. Rather, it would be a happy new beginning.

  "Mrs. Notley!" Mrs. Caddy's shrill voice sounded from the still room, making Cora want to ignore it and run back upstairs where she had been inspecting the bedchambers for the three guests due to arrive any moment.

  She drew in a breath and followed Mrs. Caddy's voice, hoping the woman's mood would be cheerier than it sounded, even though she knew better. The set down Watts had given the cook had quieted the issue of the salty preserves, but it did nothing to better the relations between her and Mrs. Caddy. Cora continued to feel like the grime under the woman's nails.

  Her second week had gone little better than the first, and only because Cora had learned to rely more on the talents of Alice. The girl was a wonder. The new batches of blackberry preserves had been greatly improved and she was teaching Cora the most efficient methods of drying and bottling herbs, along with how to make a proper dough for pastries.

  Outside the still room, however, Cora had plated the Chateaubriand Steak improperly, she'd spilled vinegar down the front of her only clean dress, and she had been late to market, resulting in less-than-fresh lemons for the lemon cream dessert. Mrs. Caddy had not been at all happy about that and had wasted no time voicing her disapproval to Mr. Ludlow.

  Now she expected Cora to come running when she called, which was precisely why Cora wanted to ignore her and go the other way.

  She mustered up a cheerful tone and entered the still room. "You bellowed, Mrs. Caddy?"

  The cook's movements were frantic as she rummaged through the jars of spices. "Where's the thyme? I need it for the ragout." She picked up bottle after bottle, setting each down with a clank.

  Cora approached the jars with a frown, frustrated that the once-neat rows were neat no longer. "It is here somewhere. If you had not shuffled everything around, I could have found it directly. I keep the thyme here next to the turmeric."

  "Well, it's not there now, is it? And I've not shuffled anythin'."

  It would be pointless to argue with Mrs. Caddy, so Cora ignored the comment and went through each and every bottle, sure she'd spot the jar soon enough. But, as Mrs. Caddy insisted, the thyme was not to be found.

  Cora studied the lineup. "I do not understand. Where else could it be if not here?"

  "If anyone should know, 'tis you."

  With a sigh, Cora began looking through cupboards and drawers for the errant jar. Had Alice misplaced it somewhere? She was out in the garden harvesting carrots or Cora would have asked—not that it would do any good. Alice always put everything back in its proper place.

  "How much thyme do you need, Mrs. Caddy?" Cora finally said when she could not find the missing herb. "I shall go pluck some from the garden right away."

  "I don't want it fresh! It needs ter be dried! 'Tis the only way I've ever made it, and I can't try somethin' new, not when Mr. Ludlow's ter 'ave important guests tonight."

  Cora was not knowledgeable enough in culinary matters to know if fresh herbs made an adequate substitution for dried. It seemed like they should, but she would have to take Mrs. Caddy's word that the two were not interchangeable. "Let me ask Alice if she knows where the jar has gone."

  "But I need it now!" Mrs. Caddy said. "The broth needs ter sit for at least four hours if it's ter 'ave any flavor at all."

  "I understand," said Cora. "And we shall do our best to see that you have your thyme as soon as possible."

  Mrs. Caddy stormed off, and Cora strode out to the gardens where she learned, much to her regret, that Alice had no notion of where the herb had gone. Together, they returned to the still room and went through every jar on every shelf, once again with no luck.

  By that point, Mrs. Caddy was wringing her hands as she strode anxiously around the kitchen. "What am I ter do? I can't very well make ragout without thyme!"

  Not knowing where else to look, Cora could think of only one solution. "I will go straightaway to Knotting Tree and ask to borrow some from the cook there," she offered.

  This had a perplexing effect on Mrs. Caddy. Rather than appear relieved, she raised her wooden spoon and shook it angrily at Cora. "I'll never borrow nothin' from the likes of that woman! Thinks she's the Queen of England, she does! I'll serve ragout without thyme before I go beggin' 'elp from 'er."

  "Wonderful," said Cora. "Let's go without the thyme then."

  Mrs. Caddy's face contorted into a look of pure outrage. "Are you daft? I can't be doin' that or the ragout will 'ave no flavor at'll!"

  Cora felt her patience begin to slip away. There was obviously no pacifying the woman when she was in this state. Perhaps Cora could make up a cup of tea laced with laudanum and coerce Mrs. Caddy to drink it. She could put the cook to bed and attempt to make the ragout herself using fresh thyme. Surely fresh would taste better anyway, would it not? Cora really did not know.

  "Well, Mrs. Caddy, the dried thyme cannot be found at this moment, so if you are unwilling to use the fresh thyme or even borrow some from the neighboring estate, the only other option is for you to switch today's menu with tomorrow's and make the roast pork and apples tonight instead. Alice and I will find you some dried thyme for tomorrow night."

  "But Mr. Ludlow said it's ter be ragout tonight and pork tomorrow," argued Mrs. Caddy.

  Cora barely refrained from raising her voice. "What difference will it make if they are switched? I daresay Mr. Ludlow will not e
ven remember."

  Mrs. Caddy opened her mouth to protest but seemed to think better of it and pinched her lips together in a frown. "'Appen you might be right."

  Cora had never been more surprised in her life. She almost asked Mrs. Caddy to repeat the words just to be sure. "Wonderful. Now that we've settled that, is there anything I can do to help with tonight's dinner preparations?"

  Expecting a snide comment about not needing the sort of help the housekeeper offered, Cora was once again stunned when Mrs. Caddy dropped a bushel of apples on the table in front of her.

  "I need apples peeled quick as a wink. Think you're up ter it?"

  Cora couldn't help but smile. "I may not be so quick as that, but I shall do my best."

  Mrs. Caddy grunted, handed Cora a knife, and bustled off to prepare the pork. Feeling oddly victorious—or, at least hopeful that victory would one day come—Cora picked up an apple and began to peel it.

  The dinner plates were returned not five minutes after they had been sent up, as full as they had been when they'd left. Cora frowned as two footmen carried the trays back into the kitchen and set them on the table. Mr. Ludlow was not far behind, passing her with barely a glance. He did not look at all happy, which caused a nervous pulse to beat about the room. Cora saw it in the tremble of hands, the intakes of breaths, and the sudden quiet that descended.

  "Mrs. Caddy," he said, his deep voice sounding stern.

  Mrs. Caddy pressed the palms of her hands together in an anxious way. "Is somethin' the matter, Mr. Ludlow?"

  "Is there a reason the pork and apples were served tonight instead of the ragout as we discussed earlier this week?"

  Mrs. Caddy cast an anxious glance at Cora before returning her gaze to their employer. "The thyme went missin', sir, and ragout can't be made without it. Mrs. Notley suggested we switch the menus, and I didn't see no 'arm in it." Her voice shook as she spoke, as though she feared the wrath of Mr. Ludlow—the likes of which Cora had never seen. She found it odd that all the servants seemed to live in fear of the man when he had been nothing but kind to her.