by Sarah Winn
Gerald gestured toward his plate with his fork. “Like Mrs. Moore’s mutton?”
She giggled and pointed with her fork toward a piece of mutton. “You didn’t supply this, did you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know where she gets the stuff.” He couldn’t remember having enjoyed one of Mrs. Moore’s meals more than he was enjoying this one, due entirely to Ellen’s company. Having a wife, even in name only, did have its advantages.
They continued their meal, chatting pleasantly, and when they were finished, Ellen rose and began to place the dishes back onto a tray. When she started to lift it. He said, “Why don’t you let one of the servants get that.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” she said. “I don’t want to make extra work for them.”
“Mrs. Moore has run things here for as long as I can remember, but you’re the lady of the house now. Don’t let her intimidate you.”
She smiled. “I won’t.” Then she picked up the tray and carried it toward the back of the house.
Another woman who didn’t listen to what he said.
He debated whether he should wait for her, so they could go upstairs together, but decided separating at the bedroom doors would be a bit awkward.
He was in his room going through the laborious task of taking off his clothes and the artificial arm when he heard Ellen’s light footsteps in the hallway, and then the opening and closing of the door across the hall. Wouldn’t it be great to have the services of a wife in the bedroom as well as the dining room?
But that wouldn’t be wise. Ellen was still in love with the memory of her hale and hearty first husband. Seeing Gerald’s maimed condition would most likely repel her.
* * * *
The next morning, Ellen awoke to find the sun shining brightly through her bedroom windows. She hurriedly dressed herself and Toby. Finding Gerald’s bedroom door ajar and no sign of him, she rushed downstairs, hoping they could all have breakfast together, but she was informed by Alice that Mr. Osborne had already eaten and gone to the stables. Alice brought porridge and cream to the breakfast room for Ellen and Toby.
Since she had told Alice not to worry about cleaning the upstairs bedrooms, Ellen returned upstairs after she and Toby had eaten. She put everything to rights in the bedroom she shared with Toby. Then she told him to stay there and went across to Gerald’s room. After quickly making the bed, she did a quick survey of the rest of the room. Unlike many of the other rooms in the house, this one was Spartan in its décor. Except for shaving paraphernalia on the wash stand, the wooden surfaces were empty. There was one painting on the wall of a horse and rider in full military regalia, but a quick check showed the rider was not Gerald.
His closet was a wreck, however. Clothes hung haphazardly on pegs and some articles had been thrown on the floor, evidently in need of laundering. Remembering some of her clothing also needed washing, she decided to combine tasks. When she got back to her room with an armload of men’s underclothing and shirts, she was surprised to find Toby no longer playing where she had left him. She called down the hallway, but got no answer. Sounds drew her to a window and she saw Toby and Mr. Moore in the fenced-in poultry yard in the far corner of the cleared area between the main house and the servants’ wing.
Toby was laughing but hiding behind one of Mr. Moore’s legs as chickens ran toward the feed Mr. Moore was scattering on the ground. Ellen felt a flash of anger. How dare the man take her child out of the house without her permission. On second thought, she realized that Toby had gone downstairs without her permission, so the servants would be justified to think she was letting the boy wander at will. She needed to have a serious talk with her son.
She added the other articles of clothing to her bundle and started downstairs. What would she tell Toby? They were living in a much larger house than he was accustomed to. It had been fairly simple to keep track of him in Mrs. Watts’s house and her small fenced-in yard, but it could be disastrous if Toby wandered into the thick trees and underbrush surrounding this house. She was nearly out of breath when she reached the doorway to the kitchen. “Mrs. Moore, is there a laundry room here?”
The older woman looked up from the dough she was kneading. “It’s at the end of the hall, but the laundress doesn’t come until Thursday.”
“I have a few personal items I thought I’d wash. I’m sure the laundress will have her hands full with linens and such.”
“Suit yourself,” Mrs. Moore said and turned back to her dough.
“Aw—I noticed that Mr. Moore has taken Toby outside. I didn’t give Toby permission to come downstairs, and I plan to have a serious talk with him about his disobedience, but I do not want him leaving the house without my permission.”
The maid, Alice, who was washing dishes, stopped and turned to stare at Mrs. Moore. That woman vigorously slapped the round of dough she was working on and then turned to face Ellen. “I am the cook,” she said. “I am not a nanny. I do not have time to watch your child for you.”
“Oh!” Ellen was surprised by the woman’s obvious hostility. “I didn’t mean that you are to watch him, but if you happen to see him going outdoors by himself, could you please remind him not to go?”
“I’m in this kitchen all day,” she said. “Unless he comes in here, I’m not likely to see him. If you’re angry at Mr. Moore for taking the boy to the chicken yard, you better take that up with him.”
Alice gave Ellen a sickly smile, as if she were afraid to speak in front of Mrs. Moore.
Ellen carried her bundle of clothing to the laundry room and examined the facilities. A large, iron tank with a fire pit under it seemed to be the place to heat water, but a quick thump with her knuckle told her the first thing she needed to do was fill the tank. It was a big tank. She hoped she wouldn’t have to fill it from a well.
Finding a door in the laundry room that led to the backyard, she decided to use it to collect her wayward son and ask Mr. Moore about the water supply. As she came out into the sunlight, Toby and Mr. Moore exited the poultry yard, and Toby called, “Look at all the eggs we got, Mama.” He pointed at the basket Mr. Moore was carrying.
She marched toward the man and boy. “Didn’t I tell you to stay in our room until I was ready to come downstairs?”
His smile instantly faded and he dropped his head, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Then why do I now find you outside?”
“I—I forgot.”
“I asked him if he wanted to go to collect eggs with me, Missus. I didn’t realize he was disobeying you,” Mr. Moore said.
“I’m sure you didn’t, but until I’m more familiar with the house and grounds, I want to know where Toby is at all times.” She gestured at the wooded land that surrounded the house and yard. “Toby has always lived where there were fenced-in yards.”
“I understand,” Mr. Moore said. “If I see this boy wandering around by himself, I’ll send him back to you straightaway.”
“Thank you, Mr. Moore. Now, can you tell me how one fills the water tank in the laundry?”
“Fortunately, there’s a pump. Let me take these eggs into the kitchen and I’ll come fill it for you.”
“Thank you.” The man’s helpful replies made Ellen feel a bit shamefaced over her haughty attitude. She gestured for Toby to come into the laundry room with her and gave him a good talking to about obeying his mother, until she heard the sucking thump of a pump handle going up and down from outside. Toby instantly dashed to a window to watch Mr. Moore and Ellen listened to the gush of water filling the tank. When he stopped pumping, Mr. Moore refilled the coal bucket that stood beside the tank and even started a fire in the pit under it.
Ellen spent the rest of the morning soaking, soaping, rinsing. and wringing clothes. She began to feel guilty about keeping poor Toby in the steamy room with nothing to do, so in between tasks, she let him play in the water of one of the large iron sinks with any containers they could find that would emulate small boats.
She was tired and sweaty,
and they were both blotched with spots of wetness on their clothing, when Gerald appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Moore said you were over here. We’ve just come up from the stables for lunch. Will you join us? The men would like to meet you and Toby.”
“Oh, no!” Ellen said. “I look a fright.” She self-consciously pushed back strands of hair that had come loose from her braids and were sticking to her damp cheeks.
Gerald smiled in a coaxing manner. “We’ve all been working this morning, so we’re all a bit rumpled, but the men are feeling left out over not being introduced the new lady of the house.”
“Well…I…” She picked up a towel and wiped her face and hands and then bent to do the same with Toby. “If you’re not ashamed of the way we look…”
“I’ll never be ashamed of the way you look.” He made the remark in such a serious manner, that she studied his face, wondering if he were teasing, but saw no sign of hidden mirth. After such a sweet compliment, she felt she had no choice but to grab Toby’s hand and accompany Gerald to the servant’s dining room.
When they arrived in the room filled with a long table and many chairs, the stable hands jumped to their feet as Gerald introduced Ellen and Toby. Chairs were scraped about to make room for two additional diners. Toby soon overcame his shyness and looked on transfixed as the men bantered back and forth. He responded brightly if any of them addressed him. When Mr. Samuels mentioned there was a pony in the stable that would like to meet Toby, the boy nearly swooned in delight, and Ellen had to bite her lip to keep from saying absolutely not.
Gerald announced it was time to go to back to work, and the men took last bites of their food, and rose from their chairs, telling Ellen and Toby “Glad to meet ya,” and “Welcome to Osborne House.”
Toby watched then expectantly, obviously hoping someone would invite him to accompany them back to the stables. Ellen rose and helped Alice stack dishes, but the boy continued to sit in his chair and look disappointed. Finally, she said, “Let’s go finish the laundry, Toby, and then we can take a little nap.”
He stuck his lower lip out. “I’m too big to take naps.”
“Oh, we’re never too big to take naps,” Ellen said. “After all my work this morning, I just may join you.”
Alice nodded as if she wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment and then lifted a heavy tray of dirty dishes and carried it back to the kitchen.
Chapter 11
Gerald left the stables a little earlier than usual that afternoon, determined to make a better appearance at dinner than he had the night before. He was back in this room after bathing, when he heard soft strains from a violin playing a hauntingly sweet melody. He quickly recognized it as a lullaby his nursemaid had sung to him when he was a small boy, and realized Ellen was coaxing Toby to sleep with the music.
Sitting on the side of his bed, Gerald listened to the music and imaged the scene across the hall; Ellen, with her head tipped toward the base of the violin, her arm moving the bow back and forth. He remembered how her expressions had altered when she played at Firthley Hall, how she smiled when the music was sprightly and grew somber when it was serious. He wanted to be in the room across the hall watching her now, but of course, he had no place there. She and Toby were family and he—he was not part of that family. Would he ever have a family of his own?
He looked down at the artificial arm he had spread out on the bed, and sighed. Did he really need to put the damn thing back on? Of course, he was dressing for dinner tonight to show Ellen his appreciation for having private dinners with her. She’d never seen him without the arm. Suddenly appearing without it might shock her. He sighed and started going through the procedure of getting it on.
He told himself that he was feeling grumpy because his day in the stables had been harrowing. He was trying to familiarize himself with the new horses before he started training them to jump, but several of them had been quite skittish with him. He knew he was a bit awkward when he had to mount a horse from the customary left side, but the older horses, here in his stables, tolerated this awkwardness. The new ones, so far, were not as accommodating. How in the hell was he going to train them to jump if he couldn’t even mount them?
The music across the hall stopped and shortly afterward he heard Ellen’s light footsteps going down the hallway. He finished buttoning his shirt, put on a vest, and reached for his jacket. Then he stopped. What the hell am I doing? We don’t dress for dinner here. And I sure as hell am not courting Ellen. She’s made it plain she doesn’t want that.
He went over and stared out his window, watching the twilight shadows deepen into night. Finally, he told himself to stop acting like a mooning schoolboy and go down to dinner—without his jacket on. As soon as he entered the softly lit dining room. Ellen began ladling aromatic beef broth into soup bowls. Gerald tried to ignore how sweetly domestic she looked.
After they were seated and eating the broth Ellen said, “Toby broke a sheep today.”
He stopped the spoon in mid-air. “What?”
“I was dusting in the parlor, and of course, Toby was with me. I told him not to touch any of the figurines, but those sheep were too tempting. He dropped one and it shattered. I’m very sorry.”
“Is that the one with the shepherdess and four or five sheep around her?”
She nodded. “There were five.”
His soup was getting cold. “Don’t worry about it.” He continued eating.
“But those pieces must be valuable. They’re hand-made and signed.”
The soup was good. He didn’t stop eating.
After a brief pause, Ellen continued. “Your aunt collected many beautiful things. I hate to disturb her displays, but I can’t watch Toby every minute. Would it be possible to move the more tempting objects into her apartment, so I’d just have to keep Toby out of there?”
Gerald remembered the long lectures his mother had given him as a boy before every visit to Aunt Rachel’s house, warning him not to touch her “little statues.” He also remembered how sorely tempted he had been to play with the animal figurines, especially the horses. “No, you don’t want to keep Toby shut away from most of the house.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“So, will it be all right to move things in the parlor out of reach of little fingers? I could leave a few pieces on the mantel.”
“Sure.” Gerald finished his soup and began to fill his plate from the other dishes Ellen pushed toward him. “Parts of this house do look like a museum.”
“And I also thought, you might have some of the pieces appraised,” she said. “They could be a source of ready cash. In case…”
He smiled at her around a mouthful of roasted chicken. After swallowing, he said, “That never occurred to me.”
“Well, I’m no expert on the matter. It’s just a thought…” She seemed a bit embarrassed, as if she might have trespassed into a forbidden area.
He wanted to reassure her. “I may need some cash before the year is out. After dinner, let’s go look in Aunt Rachel’s apartment and see if there’s room there to store the pieces from the parlor. We might also get an idea of what’s the most valuable.”
Ellen smiled and nodded, looking pleased with herself. Was she pleased to be getting rid of some the clutter around her new home or pleased to be helping her husband? It had never occurred to Gerald that a wife might help with his financial problems rather than adding to them.
* * * *
After dinner, Ellen led Gerald to the main parlor and around the room. They looked at figurines, vases, and fancy tea cups that filled each flat surface. Gerald easily gave his consent for her to move any or all of it. Then they went to Aunt Rachel’s apartment. It was directly across the entry hall from the main parlor, but was noticeably smaller. The furnishings consisted of a sofa, two matching chairs, several occasional tables, and most notably, two, glass enclosed, cabinets, at least six-feet tall, with shelves that were filled with more of Aunt Rachel’s porcelain collectables.
Af
ter Gerald lit a lamp, Ellen could see that the cabinet nearest the door was filled with animals. The highest shelf was devoted to dogs, often standing in matched pairs. They had been so carefully crafted that it was possible to discern their breed. The next shelf down contained cats, under that were farm animals. One cow on that shelf had an open mouth and curved tail, so it could be used as a cream pitcher. The fourth shelf was devoted to birds that ranged from a pair of wild turkeys, one with his tail feathers spread, to delicate songbirds perched on ceramic branches. The last shelf in the cabinet was filled with animals that might have come from Africa or India: elephants, tigers, lions, and even a pair of matching zebras.
Ellen gave a soft moan, before saying, “I’ll definitely have to keep Toby away from this cabinet.”
“These cabinets are locked. At least, they used to be.” Gerald stepped closer and tried one of the doors. It did not move. “Yeah, the keys were kept in a little covered dish on her bedside table. I guess they still are.”
He pointed to the other cabinet in the opposite corner of the room. “That cabinet contains her first love, tea cups.”
Ellen walked over to examine that cabinet more closely. Each shelf was filled with cups, matching saucers, and sometimes plates, even a few teapots. There were no sets, just a few pieces in each design. Apparently, his aunt had tried to get as much variety as possible. But if the first cabinet had given the impression that anything was fair game to collect, this one showed how meticulously Aunt Rachel had actually been. The pieces were all decorated with floral designs, some so accurately depicted that it was possible to identify the type of flower, others in vivid colors and shapes that mother nature had never mastered, but each represented fine examples of ceramic craftsmanship.
“These are all quite beautiful,” Ellen said.
“Wait until you see the cabinet in the bedroom.” He stepped over to open the bedroom door.