by Wilma Counts
“I do not recall Arthur’s ever mentioning him.”
“That’s not surprising. Arthur never knew him. That is, I don’t think the two ever met. If so, it would have been very fleetingly. As I said, Jeremy was a year older—and a far more serious student in those days than either Arthur or I.” He chuckled at some distant memory.
“So,” she said lightly, “you have obtained a position for me with an impoverished earl.”
“I hope not. I doubt he will become truly impoverished. He is not without prospects or potential.” But the sensible solicitor offered nothing more on that topic.
“In any event, this temporary position suits my needs perfectly and I do thank you!”
CHAPTER 4
A week later, Kate and Ned stood in the open yard of the only inn in the town of Kenrick. The coach in which they had arrived had left only moments before. Mother and son were both tired, having been cooped up in a coach for four days, though Phillips had seen to it that they had sufficient funds for accommodations along the way. He had also arranged for his own middle-aged housekeeper to accompany the young widow and her child. Mrs. Sealy was overdue for a visit with her brother in York, the Phillipses insisted over Kate’s protests. Ned had fidgeted and fussed during this last morning, asking repeatedly, “Are we there yet?” Now, here they were in the courtyard of an inn and no one to meet them.
“Mrs. Arthur?” The man’s voice startled her. He tipped his hat to her as she turned. “I’m Cuthbertson, Lord Kenrick’s coachman. His lordship sent me to collect you and the boy.” The man’s accent was so heavy Kate had to strain to define the individual words. “He would’ve come hisself, but they needed ’im in the birthin’ barn.”
“Birthing barn?” she asked.
“Sheep. A couple of prize ewes are having a tough time.”
“Sheep,” she echoed, feeling decidedly stupid.
“This here’s sheep country,” he said. “Finest wool in England. Kenrick’s got some o’ the best. An’ this bein’ lambin’ season an’ all . . .” He took the bag Kate had been holding and glanced at the bag and the guitar at her feet. “Where’s your trunk?”
“We have no trunk. This is all we have.”
He seemed surprised at this, but said nothing as he stored the luggage and the instrument in the rear of the carriage. He opened the door and pulled down the steps. Kate motioned for Ned to scramble to his seat.
“How far is it to the Hall?” she asked.
Cuthbertson handed her in as he answered. “ ’Bout half an hour.”
Once under way, Kate pulled aside the heavy curtains on the carriage windows and fastened them so that she and Ned could see the area that was to be their new home, however temporarily.
“Look, Mama!” Ned giggled at the antics of new lambs in a field.
The white sheep, some with black faces, stood out in stark contrast to the green of fields and rolling hills. Here and there sharper projections of gray stone or clumps of trees provided variety to the landscape. Stone fences separated fields, some with sheep, others with crops. Above, a blue sky dotted with wispy clouds added another dimension of color to the scene.
Kate gradually relaxed. She had expected to be on edge until she settled into the routine of this new stage in her life. But already the contrasts of comforting colors and intriguing landscape were creating a sense of calm and well-being. Perhaps this had been a good move after all.
She felt the carriage slow and sensed the horses straining to ascend a hill. At the crest, she looked across the way to see a mansion of gray stone with a slate roof. Imperiously, it dominated an elevated crop of land on the far side of a green valley. Yet it seemed to blend in perfectly with its surroundings. Very picturesque, she thought.
“That must be Kenrick Hall,” she said to Ned.
“ ’Tis big, Mama. But not so big as Wynstan Castle.”
“It is large,” she agreed, “larger than I expected. But you must remember, my darling, not to mention Wynstan to anyone.”
“I know, Mama,” he replied impatiently.
Kate glanced out the window again. Silently, she questioned Lord Kenrick’s informing her of a staff of thirty or so. Surely it would take at least twice that many for a house this size! Though she had seen only the front of the building, she conjectured it would have at least two, possibly three wings—each with three stories and an attic and cellar as well.
From the crest of the hill they had climbed, she could see the road winding down and through a lane of trees showing the green-gold of early springtime leaves. It crossed an ancient stone bridge, then took a wide sweep in front of the mansion. The carriage rounded the building and came to a stop in the rear.
A servant hurried forward to open the carriage door. Ned jumped out and stood shyly waiting for his mother. The servant helped her alight and she held Ned’s small hand in her own as an anchor to familiarity, for she was suddenly aware that she had not dispelled all her nervousness about this adventure she was embarking upon. A heavy oaken door opened to reveal a man who looked about sixty and walked in a stiff, upright manner. He had rather thin hair, a gray mustache, and a very precise air about him.
“Welcome to Kenrick Hall, madam. His lordship told me to expect you. I’m Wilkins, the butler.”
Kate nodded her acknowledgment. “Thank you, Mr. Wilkins. I am, of course, Mrs. Arthur and this is my son, Ned.”
“Lord Kenrick warned me about the boy,” Wilkins said.
“Warned?” She raised a brow. “His lordship assured me that my son would pose no problem for the household.”
Kate knew it was important to establish herself immediately. The Good Lord knew she had seen enough new officers take over existing regiments to know what her role would be in this household.
Wilkins swallowed visibly and replied in a slightly mollified tone, “He told me. But ’tis unusual, you know. I assume you will ensure that the child is no hindrance to the staff.”
“You may depend upon it,” she said. “Now, if you will show me to my room, I will attend to my son and then someone may show me around.”
“Yes, madam. His lordship would like to see you in the library when you are ready.”
“Please tell him I will be there very shortly.”
They had moved into the kitchen. It was large with a slate floor and two long worktables in the center of the room. Kate noted two large ranges, but only one seemed to be in use. The whitewashed walls were streaked with soot from the coal-burning stoves. Wilkins introduced her to the cook, an older woman named Sally Jenkins, and three younger women, obviously kitchen maids.
Kate nodded at each in turn and noted that they cast inquisitive looks her way. Sally Jenkins was a robust, gray-haired woman of mid- to late-forties, Kate guessed. She had a round face reddened by an open fire over which she had been tending a roast on a spit.
“Smells good,” Kate said appreciatively, but she noticed the girl who’d been introduced as Rosie roll her eyes behind the cook’s back.
Mrs. Jenkins acknowledged the introduction hastily and muttered something about having to get the midday meal on the table.
Rosie was a slight girl of perhaps fifteen years. She had reddish brown hair and a ready smile. Wilkins instructed her to show Mrs. Arthur to the housekeeper’s rooms and wait to show her to the library.
“Yes, Mr. Wilkins,” Rosie said with just a touch of sauciness in her tone.
He frowned at her, but turned on his heel and left the kitchen.
Rosie kept up a patter of chitchat as she led Kate and Ned down a narrow hall to two plainly furnished rooms. “Old Mrs. Preston had these rooms. The bedchamber is rather crowded since we put in a cot for your boy, but the sitting room is proper comfortable enough.”
Kate looked around. “Yes, I can see that it is.”
The furniture—a couch, a wing chair, and a small table with two straight chairs—was worn, but, aside from needing a thorough dusting, it was clean. “Lord knows you have lived happily in surrou
ndings far less elegant,” she told herself, recalling accommodations she and Arthur had endured on the Peninsula. She quickly removed her hat and cloak, glad that she had not entirely put off her sober half-mourning clothing; it would do very well for a housekeeper. She forced stray wisps of hair back into the severe bun, wishing she had time to redo it entirely. She wet a cloth in the basin and wiped her face, then dug around in one of the bags to find the mobcap she had secured as a badge of her new station in life.
She sat Ned down at the table in the sitting room where she gave him not only the last of the biscuits they had occasionally munched on during their journey, but also a piece of paper and a graphite pencil with which to amuse himself.
She kissed the top of his head. “You be a good boy, son. I’ll be back soon.”
“Yes, Mama.” He was already engrossed in his drawing.
“I’ll keep a watch on ’im for you,” Rosie volunteered as she showed Kate the way to the library.
“Thank you, Miss Davis.”
“Nobody calls me Miss Davis—just Rosie.”
“I shall call you Miss Davis,” Kate said firmly.
Rosie grinned. “Well, ma’am, that could get confusing as my sister Nell, she works here too, and she be a Miss Davis too.”
“Hmm. That does present a problem,” Kate said and then admitted defeat with a smile. “Very well, then, Rosie it is.”
Rosie was quiet for a moment, then she said shyly, “You seem rather young for a housekeeper.”
“I suppose I am,” Kate admitted, “but there is no age requirement for doing a good job, now, is there?”
“No, ma’am.” Rosie paused again then said, “We downstairs folks are that glad you’ve come, ma’am.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, ma’am. Mrs. Jenkins, she’s a good soul—an’ she does know how to cook all right, but she don’t have much imagination. We’re hopin’ our meals might change some now you’re here.”
“I . . . see.”
“Mind you, his lordship don’t stint on food for the help,” Rosie hastened to explain. “An’ he ain’t one to try to trap a girl beneath the stairs none, neither.”
“I should hope not,” Kate said.
“They’s lot o’ them what do,” Rosie said knowingly.
“You have worked in other houses, then?” Kate asked.
“Oh, no. Only here. Me da’s one o’ Kenrick’s tenant farmers, but I got friends in other houses around. There ain’t no place so good as here,” she said proudly, “ ’spite o’ his lordship’s troubles.”
Kate was spared an improper or quelling response to this, for they had arrived at the library door. The moment they passed through the door separating the service areas from the family’s quarters, she was intrigued by what she saw. Not surprisingly, the halls here were wider, the furnishings more lavish. But everywhere there were signs of neglect. Yes, the earl certainly needed someone to take charge of his household. She waved Rosie a farewell and rapped lightly on the library door.
“Yes. Come in,” a deep voice answered. “Ah, Mrs. Arthur.” He rose behind the desk to greet her. A small, white-haired woman seemed to have been dozing, but sat upright on hearing his voice.
Today, the Earl of Kenrick did not resemble any peer of the realm she had ever seen. He was dressed much as a common laborer might have been in a well-worn pair of buckskin breeches and an open shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Open at the neck, the shirt revealed a bit of dark hair. He gestured for her to be seated in a chair in front of the desk. She noted the hard muscles of his arms and that his shoulders made an ordinary worker’s shirt a most interesting garment, despite its stains.
She quickly gave herself a mental shake and tried to concentrate on what he was saying. Which was hard to do—distracted as she was by watching his hands idly playing with a small paperweight as he talked. He looked comfortable enough behind the desk, but she suspected he was a man who was more at ease out of doors than in. She tore her gaze away from his hands and looked into his eyes. Oh, dear. That was an error. One could get lost there! Unable to look away, she held his gaze for what seemed an eternity. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Mrs. Arthur, allow me to introduce my aunt, Lady Elinor Chilton Baxter.”
“My lady,” Kate murmured politely and bobbed her head in acknowledgement.
“I trust your journey was a pleasant one.” The older woman’s voice was strong and firm in contrast to the slightly vacant look in her eyes and a cane near her elbow.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Wilkins will have someone show you around after the midday meal and you may begin your duties as soon as you are settled in,” her employer said.
“Yes, my lord.”
“I trust you know far more about housekeeping than I do,” he said. “I have made it clear that you are in charge. Mind you, Wilkins has his nose slightly out of joint, but he will get over it.”
“I—I don’t understand.” Lord. Was she going to start off on the wrong foot with the butler? Had she already done so?
The man behind the desk ran his hand nervously through previously disheveled hair. “The truth is, the manor needs more than a mere housekeeper. It needs an overseer—someone to take charge. A chatelaine, if you will.”
A wife, she thought, but of course she could not say that.
“In most houses, a wife performs the role I am outlining for you,” he said, just as though he had read her mind. “But mine is a bachelor establishment—and likely to remain such.”
“My nephew wants a housewife, but not a wife,” his aunt interjected.
“Yes. Something like that.” He looked slightly embarrassed, but grinned briefly, flashing even white teeth against a tanned complexion.
Oh, Lord, Kate thought. You smile at the ladies like that and you will have a wife—a real wife—forthwith.
“One of the maids and a footman must be available regularly to attend Lady Elinor, but if you need to hire additional help, we could—perhaps—do with one or two more—but no more than that.” He ended on a note of caution.
“Let me consider the matter,” Kate said. “I cannot make such a request until I know the house and the staff better.”
“Of course.”
The interview over, she saw that her son was fed, then she joined the staff in the servants’ hall for the midday meal. Wilkins stood at the head of one long table and motioned her to that place at the other one.
“This is Mrs. Arthur, the new housekeeper,” Wilkins announced, still standing along with Kate.
She felt all eyes focused on her. “How do you do?” she said. “It will take me a while to become acquainted with all of you, so do bear with me.”
They nodded politely, some smiling their welcomes.
Then Mr. Wilkins said grace and there was much scraping of chairs and benches as the servants—well over thirty of them—took their seats and set about busily digging into the meal. It consisted of roast lamb, potatoes, boiled cabbage, and bread and butter. A hearty, but not especially attractive meal, she thought as she took her seat.
Rosie happened to sit near Kate and said softly, “See? This is our midday meal most days. Always the same.”
“Oh?” Kate tried to keep a neutral tone.
“Breakfast is always porridge, except for Saturdays and supper’s always bread and cheese—always the same cheese too.”
“I . . . see,” Kate said as a couple of brave souls near Rosie nodded agreement. “I make no promises, but perhaps something can be done.”
She was mindful of Arthur’s telling her that Napoleon had once said an army travels on its stomach. She supposed the same might be true of an army of servants and laborers.
The meal finished, Rosie and the other kitchen maids set to clearing the table and washing dishes. Wilkins handed Kate a large brass ring with a number of keys on it and assigned a chambermaid—Nell, Rosie’s sister—to show the new housekeeper around.
“I expect you will find your way around qu
ickly enough,” he said, dismissing her.
“Yes, I suppose I shall,” she replied. With or without your cooperation , she added mentally.
Nell proved to be nearly as much of a chatterbox as her younger sister. Must run in the family, Kate thought.
“The oldest part of the house was built in the sixteenth century,” Nell said as they walked a long corridor, “during the time of Queen Elizabeth. Seems the first earl found favor with her majesty.”
“Yes. I read as much in a guidebook.”
“His lordship closed off the east wing when he took up residence about a year ago.”
“Oh?” Kate encouraged.
“Had to. Couldn’t afford it no more. Had to let a lot of the staff go too.”
“How sad.”
“But he were fair about it,” Nell assured her. “He kept ’em on till they got new places—an’ he helped ’em get new jobs too.”
Kate was not sure why this information pleased her so, but perhaps the earl would be equally kind when it came time for her to leave.
“I should like to see the whole house, including the east wing,” Kate said.
“You’ll want a wrap, then,” Nell said. “It’s pretty cold in that part of the house.”
They took time out to obtain shawls, then continued the orientation tour. Kate saw ample evidence of the decline in grandeur the house had suffered. There were spots on some walls where paintings had once hung, though a long gallery still included a number of family portraits that looked to be quite valuable. She thought she recognized one as a Holbein. Mr. Phillips had told her much of the moveable property had been sold to defray debts, but apparently even the profligate sixth earl had demurred at disposing of family portraits.