Untitled

by Wendy Bayne

  I kissed him on the cheek. “I agree with Edward.”

  He chuckled then held me close, kissing my forehead, “You know I’ve discovered something I never expected…I’m beginning to like my brother especially since he promised to broker a peace treaty between me and Aunt Millicent at least for the wedding.”

  We walked around the yard where he pointed out the outbuildings that for the most part had been torn down and rebuilt in the same brick as the house. The only original feature left was the old clock tower that had been part of the stables for as long as anyone could remember. The garden itself he said would need a woman’s touch since he had left it to run wild. We’d have to hire more gardeners in the spring unless I wanted to make it my own project. I gave him the eye as I looked over the expanse of the gardens and lawn, he laughed at my look and then waved over an elderly man who was clearly starting to set things to rights. “This is Mr Jamieson, my dear, he and his grandson will be our permanent gardeners. In the spring he’ll be better able to tell us how many helpers he’ll need and how often. With your permission he intends to restore the Elizabethan Knot gardens and he and Mrs Dawson have plans to expand the kitchen garden as well as add an herb and medicinal garden.”

  Mr Jamieson nodded and gave a funny little bow. “Tis a pleasure to be back here, milady, I was the undergardener here a long time ago and my grandson is a natural with plants.” He nodded again. “But If you’ll excuse me I should get back to burning that scrub, I don’t like leaving it untended. My felicitations on your forthcoming marriage, I only wish our gardens could be providing the wedding blooms.” He sighed then knuckled his brow and walked away.

  “I like him already, Miles…I believe we will get along very well.”

  We continued our walk around the old house, the façade was still the same warm red brick I remembered but the improvements and repairs made it truly a beautiful sight as it must have once been. The roof had been repaired and all the tall chimneys were now working at peak performance. The windows were a comforting mixture of mullioned, leaded and stained glass and they all gleamed when the light caught them. The kitchen had been untouched at Mrs Dawson’s request, all she had asked for was some additional crockery, pots and pans and a new stove. She had said it was like Christmas when the crates had arrived from the London shops. She guarded the Wedgewood like it was the crown jewels, but it was the silver that was her pride and joy. She attentively listened to Mr Allan about the proper care and keeping of the silver, even taking notes which had impressed him.

  But it was the inside of the Rambles that was a true wonder, all the mildew, rack and ruin was gone. Some of the Elizabethan charm remained, such as the dark wainscoting in the more masculine rooms like the library, billiard room and study. But elsewhere it had been whitewashed or changed out for a lighter oak. The walnut and oak throughout the house was now polished so that the deep hues within the woods captured the sunlight and reflected it back into the rooms. The intricately carved staircases remained as is and the slate in the entry hall was polished to a high gloss, showing a myriad of colours in its depth. The ceilings were still low in some places and the odd beam required Miles to bend his head at times but many of the doorways had been enlarged and a few of the smaller rooms had been knocked out to make for more spacious family and guest accommodation. All the rooms were now light and warm, being comfortably furnished in a mixture of beautifully wrought new and salvaged old furniture. I could see that this home would be our retreat like Cornwall was for Aunt Mary and my parents.

  I started counting the rooms and the amount of work that it must entail to keep it up, “How can Bita and Angel possibly manage all this?”

  He shrugged. “Bita manages, most of the rooms aren’t open even when I’m here. Though she keeps them ready just in case. She has hired a few girls from the village and she’d like them to live here eventually but not with the current state of the servants’ quarters.”

  “I would have thought it would be difficult to find staff in the area willing to live away from their place of employment.”

  Miles shrugged. “Most of them are untrained villagers just looking for work so Bita and Angel are training them as maids, cooks and other domestics, she’d apparently been corresponding with Mr Allan asking for advice.” He chuckled. “He seems to be in his element teaching her, but he says she already has a firm grip on basic housekeeping in a country home. However, I’ll need your help speaking to Bita later, she won’t allow me to hire any footmen because in her words men in the house only cause trouble.”

  I arched a brow. “Really? How forward thinking.” And I gave him an impish grin.

  He merely rolled his eyes and continued, “Yes, she says the stable and farm hands are enough for her to deal with when the girls are here during the day. Angel corresponded with Mr Allan and he had sent Mrs Dawson books on housekeeping in a manor house. And from what I hear, Angel’s been badgering Robert for details about the footmen and other superior servants in your parents’ home. She wants to convince her mother that we need footmen.”

  I giggled a bit. “Poor Robert, Angel and Bita I imagine can be relentless. I know the letters I had from Angel before we went to Paris were very focused on the role of a lady’s maid. I thought she might be looking for a position but now it makes sense. I had to beg Meg to tell me all about what she does so I could answer all of them and from what I’ve learned Meg deserves a raise.”

  Miles smiled. “Done!”

  I slapped his arm. “Miles, you can’t just give a person a raise like that. A wage must be fair and commiserate with their experience, you cannot be known to pay staff excessively, it causes jealousy and envy between different houses and your neighbours might cut you for it feeling that your trying to steal their staff away.”

  Miles merely arched his brow. “Incredible. I had no idea there was such politics involved in hiring staff.”

  I chuckled. “It’s a very complicated system.” He laughed and patted my arm. “But we can provide our staff with superior uniforms and accommodation and there are other perks that my parents provide such as a full day off once a month in addition to their weekly half day, arranging for holiday celebrations for them and their families and most especially providing aid to those that need our help. I would also like to allow our staff to marry if they so choose, just as my parents do. It may be difficult to find experienced staff they can be very set in their ways, so I think Mrs Dawson has the right idea of training our own staff. Just be prepared to be labelled eccentric.”

  Miles raised his hands. “The house will be your domain, my love, and I leave it to you. All I ask is that you keep me informed, I hope to run the Rambles at a profit eventually.”

  I held onto his arm as we leaned against the paddock fence. “How is that coming, my love?”

  He took a deep breath as he looked over the paddock and the pastures beyond, a smile of satisfaction lighting up his face. “Dawson has hired farm hands from the village and like the maids most of them are untrained, having been fishermen, but he says they’re doing well. It seems we are now the county’s greatest benefactors since many of our neighbours in the area leave their properties to be run by managers, they rarely if ever visit nor take any interest in county affairs.” He turned around looking back to the house and stable yard. “I need to improve the servants’ quarters at some point and the sooner the better. Right now, even the birds decline to use the attics in the house, there’re so cramped. The stable accommodation has been expanded for the horses as well as the grooms and the workers’ cottages are being torn down and reconstructed, they should be ready before planting.”

  “Where are they living now?”

  He sighed obviously not happy with his answer. “The single men are living in the loft in one of the barns and the ones that are married are still living in and around the village with their families. Don’t worry, I’ve made sure that they have food to eat and fuel for their fires.”

  I squeezed his arm to reassure him. �
��You’re a good man, Miles Johnson.”

  He beamed at my praise. “I have a mind to add a servants’ wing to accommodate the in-house servants. What do you think? I like that idea better than having them scurrying around above our heads.”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea. I must admit that I’m surprised the Dawsons are so welcoming to outsiders and proving to be so competent in running things. But I wonder why they haven’t hired any of Magda’s people to help in the house and the fields?”

  He shook his head leaning back pulling me to stand between his legs. He started to kiss me on the cheeks then the neck, “Magda…won’t…allow…her people…to work as servants. They will help at planting and harvest for a portion of the harvest but that’s all.”

  Then he claimed my lips and deepened the kiss and we were lost to each other.

  His caress was my entire world so when I heard someone clearing their throat I was more than annoyed. Finally, a voice broke in, “Miles, let her go before one of her uncles finds you and puts a hole through you brain pan. She’s not married to you yet, nephew.”

  Miles groaned while still kissing me, but I think it had more to do with his Aunt Millicent coming upon us than his passion. He looked up briefly, “Go away.”

  He bent his head towards me again, but I had come to myself enough to push him away and turned to look at her nervously. I refused to fidget or check my hair as was my inclination and Miles huffed as he pulled me back against him so that I was aligned with my back to his front. His intent I believe was for me to be aware of how close we had come to putting our wedding night before our wedding and so that his aunt would not be aware. His aunt rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Miles, you needn’t hang onto the girl like she’ll vanish. And if you think you are hiding anything from me, might I remind you that I have five children and I know what a man looks like when he’s aroused.” I blushed when I looked up into Miles’ face, he had turned the deepest shade of red that I’d ever seen. Then he and his aunt both suddenly burst out laughing.

  His aunt stepped forward and took my hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, my dear. At least I assume you’re my nephew’s fiancée?” I was so embarrassed all I could do was nod. “Good, you and I must have a long chat sometime. But right now, you’re needed for the final fitting of your wedding gown.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “What wedding gown?” There hadn’t been time in London for me to have one made so Mother and I had picked out what we thought was a suitable dress from my current wardrobe.

  She smiled at me, patting my hand then looked at Miles as if she was perturbed with him then back at me. “He didn’t tell you, did he.” I caught the exasperated look on Miles’ face and so did she. “Oh, he’s a canny one, our Miles. Did he never tell you that one of his many talents is that he likes to design all sorts of things? He’s made several of the beautiful pieces of furniture about this house; our boy is very good with his hands.” Then she giggled. “But I’m sure you’ll find that out on your own.” Miles groaned again and pinched his nose while she smiled in triumph and continued, “Not only does he design and make furniture, he has on many occasions designed costumes for several masque balls that I’ve hosted over the years.” I noticed her smile had become rather smug; she seemed bent on embarrassing Miles even more. “Your fiancé took it upon himself to send me his design and the material for a gown though I didn’t know at the time it was for your wedding gown.” I must have looked puzzled because she went onto explain. “I know a very talented seamstress in Edinburgh, who used to live and work in Venice and worked in the theatre. She has always been able to take his designs and make them a reality no matter how fanciful; she’s an absolute genius with a needle.”

  I glanced at Miles, he wasn’t laughing anymore but he was giving his aunt a very stern look. I can only imagine what he might have said if I wasn’t there. I had to admit I was intrigued, “When did you manage to do all that?”

  He cleared his throat and stood out from the wall. “The furniture I have been working on for years, it helps me think and relax. The dress was some time ago.”

  I wasn’t letting him off the hook. “How long ago?”

  “Does it really matter…it was…before I went to France.”

  I tipped my head to the side gazing at him and saw how uncomfortable he was, “No, Miles, it doesn’t matter at all.”

  His aunt looked astonished. “Well, Miles, you seem have your bride under your spell as much as she has you under hers. Well done, my boy…well done.” Then she took my hand and pulled me along towards the house. I looked back over my shoulder and Miles was watching us looking like a little boy who had just had his favourite toy taken from him. I blew him a kiss and he brightened up. As I was dragged into the house I caught one last glimpse of him walking in the opposite direction and whistling. I couldn’t help but love him even more.

  The gown laid out on my bed was stunning in its simplicity, it was made of shot silk that shone like iridescent mother of pearl in the light. The design itself was almost medieval with long sleeves tight fitting from the shoulders down to my wrists, the neckline was scooped with a high waistline made discernible only by an embroidered girdle of the palest iridescent beading incorporating roses and ivy which was repeated at the neckline and the hem. Yards of material fell from gathers at the back, creating a train. There was no other ornamentation on the dress. I was in awe, it was simply the most beautiful gown I had ever seen. Just as the sun came through to shine on my bed the gown shimmered in a myriad of colours like a rainbow. The women of the household were all there in awe waiting for me to try it on.

  I turned away from the ethereal confection lying on my bed to be confronted by a very tiny woman with jet black hair. She had come out of my dressing room carrying a sewing basket and had pins stuck in the bodice of her dress with a tape measure around her neck. She eyed me up and down then pronounced, “You’ll do.” She walked around me puckering her lips, “I’d say from the looks of you that Mr Johnson is intimate with your measurements.” I was shocked by her forwardness, but she didn’t seem to be bothered at all and the other ladies only giggled, before she gave them a withering look that silenced them. When she spoke, it was in a very clipped tone and from her olive skin and a hint of an accent it was obvious that she was not from Scotland, yet she introduced herself as Mrs Mactavish “If it had been anyone else but Mr Johnson that had wanted me to cut into that bolt of shot silk with the wearer sight unseen I would have refused and kicked them out of my shop. But Mr Johnson has a good eye. Now let’s see if he was right that the dress would suit you. I was sceptical of the sleeves at first, they’re very severe and are never seen these days, but he insisted.”

  I followed her and Meg back into the dressing room, no one else would be allowed to touch the gown but Mrs Mac as she had asked to be called. Meg assisted me out of my day gown and into a new silk shift that was also courtesy of Mrs Mac. Then the wedding gown flowed over me like cool water. I had my back to the cheval glass, but I heard Meg’s gasp as the dress settled on me and she did up the tiny pearl buttons in the back. The gown was as light as a feather and it fit perfectly. Mrs Mac walked around pulling here and there, then stepping back she walked around me, scrutinizing every angle. “Yes, it will do nicely.” She stood back contemplating yet again with a critical eye. “You know he sent to France for that material and the beads.” She had a hint of smile around her lips and her eyes glowed with pride at her work. “I wish he would let me copy this, but he wanted the pattern and drawings destroyed; no one else will have a dress like this, it’s such a shame.” She sighed. “This is some of my best work, but he paid me handsomely for it, so I shouldn’t complain. I only wish that you were being married in London or Edinburgh. I’d have them lining up outside my shop within a fortnight.” When she shook her head. “What am I thinking? I have enough work as it is, so it’s probably for the best.” She stopped fussing with the hem and sighed when she looked up at me, she smile
d. “He is a rare man, miss.” I could do nothing but nod in agreement. Tears were welling up in my eyes and threatening to spill over. She was quick to notice and had the buttons undone and the dress whipped up and over my head in no time as Meg passed me a handkerchief. I thanked Mrs Mac and allowed Meg to help me back into my day dress. When I returned to my room everyone appeared disappointed that they had not seen me in the gown. Mrs Mac came out with the dress, even Meg would not be allowed to handle it before the wedding. She looked at all the long faces. “Sorry, ladies, but Lord Tinley was very specific, no one sees her in the dress but me and her maid until the wedding.”

  Aunt Mary huffed. “Humph and since when is Lord Tinley in charge of this wedding?”

  Mrs Mac gazed at the dress and her fingers caressed it. “He isn’t as far as I know, ma’am, but this dress is his bride gift to Miss Turner, so I think he has the right to say when it will be displayed.”

  Millicent laughed out loud. “That sounds just like him, he’s very much like his father; needs to have his finger in everyone’s pie whether it’s welcomed or not.” She was admiring the gown and went to touch it, but she pulled back as Mrs Mac turned away with it. She was smiling, and her eyes sparkled. “He has his mother’s aesthetic eye too; that dress is a work of art.” Mrs Mac looked very pleased but only nodded.

  Aunt Mary looked over her spectacles at Millicent then back at the dress as Mrs Mac wrapped it in paper and placed it in a box. “You’re quite right about that, my dear, his mother would have been very proud of him.”