Willowswood Match

by Gayle Buck

  “Thank you, Mrs. Crumpet. I shall ask the driver to bring up our trunks now,” said Miranda, who had disposed of her bonnet, gloves, and pelisse on the canopied bed. Before she laid her reticule beside her other belongings, she removed her purse and slipped it into her pocket so that she could pay off the driver.

  The chaise driver was not best pleased to learn that he was expected to carry the heavy trunks upstairs. When he had set down the baggage in the middle of the bedroom, he looked around with a judicial gaze. “I ain’t never seen such a house. No one about and everything covered like it was a morgue,” he declared.

  “We haven’t time for your insults, my good man, so be gone with you,” said Mrs. Crumpet, affronted by the man’s gall. She whisked the last cover from the dresser and energetically bundled it up.

  Miranda led the grumbling driver back downstairs and handed him the fare that she owed as well as a few extra pounds. When he saw the amount, his dour expression lightened. He touched his cap in deference. “I thanks you very well, ma’am.”

  Miranda shut the door and stood against it a moment in thought. She could yet scarcely believe the circumstances that she had found at Willowswood. With paying off the chaise, she had burned her bridges behind her. She was here for good and all. It was time to see her cousin and discover just how bad the situation truly was. Her imagination had already conjured up a grim picture. But it was not in her nature to quail in the face of adversity. Miranda went back upstairs to find Mrs. Crumpet and have the good woman show her to her cousin’s rooms.

  Anne Townsend appeared very fragile in the great canopied bed. Her fair hair spread damply over the down pillow. Her face was pale and her eyes were deep pools of blue underscored by dark shadows that testified to her sleeplessness. She looked faintly puzzled when she noticed Miranda standing behind Mrs. Crumpet. “Who is it, Mrs. Crumpet?” she asked, her voice faint.

  “Anne,” said Miranda, approaching the bed.

  Her cousin’s face registered happy astonishment. “Miranda! I can scarcely believe my eyes, but it must be you. You are much prettier than the cameo that you once sent to me.”

  Miranda laughed and took the slender hand that her cousin held out to her. “Yes, it is I. I am only sorry that I have come at such a miserable time. Mrs. Crumpet tells me that you have had the chicken pox.”

  Anne grimaced. She turned her head to cough hollowly behind her hand. “Such a childish disease to catch! I am well over it now. But I am still confined to my bed because I contracted pneumonia on top of it all. The excellent physician in the village informed me in his ponderous fashion that I was too weak to fight off the new infection. So here I am, still abed.”

  Miranda seated herself in the chair beside the bed. “Anne, if it does not tire you overmuch, I should like to have tea with you here. There is so much I wish to say.”

  “And I also! As for tiring me, your very presence is a breath of fresh air. I have been pitying myself a bit, you see. Mrs. Crumpet, if you will be so good as to arrange for our tea,” said Anne, speaking in stronger accents than she had before.

  “Aye, madame. The tea will be brought directly,” said Mrs. Crumpet, beaming to see her mistress so much livelier. She turned to leave the room, only to be stopped by her mistress’s query concerning the whereabouts of her son. Mrs. Crumpet frowned slightly. “Mr. Crumpet be looking for him now, madame. He has gone down to the wood again, I am sure.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Crumpet. I know that you and Mr. Crumpet do your best,” said Anne. As the door closed softly, she sighed and smiled over at Miranda. “I fret constantly over Robert. As you will soon discover, my son is a graceless scamp with a will of his own. Robert has never taken direction easily, but once I fell ill and the servants left, there was no one at all to curb him. I wish that Richard had not been called away so soon. There would then have been no question of our son’s running wild or of the servants’ desertion.”

  “Forgive me, Anne, but it strikes me as peculiar that every servant in the place chose to leave. Surely there were a few level heads among them!” said Miranda.

  “There were precious few. Besides Mrs. Crumpet and her husband, who were in our service before we took possession of Willowswood ten months ago, Miss Claridge’s old gardener and groom have also remained, though I think they stayed more because Willowswood was their home than for any other reason. Besides them, Miss Claridge had only her personal maid and a cook, and they both retired upon their mistress’s death. So the household staff was newly appointed and had not yet learned loyalty to Richard and me,” said Anne, coughing again. “But I do not blame the servants for panicking, Miranda. It was such a short time ago that pox passed through the countryside.”

  “I see.” Miranda’s lips tightened slightly. She did not know if she could have been so magnanimous in the same situation. “But the doctor has been to see you. Surely he must have reassured the ignorant that Willowswood is not tainted by pox.”

  “I have thought on it and I think that perhaps the servants have not returned because they are ashamed,” said Anne.

  “Your household sounds a group of morons,” said Miranda roundly. Her cousin laughed weakly, bringing on an extended bout of coughing. At this point, Mrs. Crumpet returned bearing a tea tray, and Miranda rose to assist her in moving an occasional table nearer the bed. Then she sat down and began to pour out the steaming tea.

  “Mr. Crumpet has returned with Master Robert, madame. They are belowstairs now having their tea with Miss Wainwright’s maid,” said Mrs. Crumpet.

  Anne nodded her thanks and the woman left the two cousins alone once more. Miranda helped arrange Anne’s pillows so that she could sit up comfortably and then handed her a cup of tea. “I can see that you have not been sleeping well, Anne. I shall try to discover if there are any herbs in the medicinal cabinet or the garden that I can make into a soothing tea for you. In the meantime, I wish you to eat at least one of these biscuits. You appear sadly wasted,” said Miranda.

  “So Mrs. Crumpet has scolded me for more than once. But there is very little that appeals,” said Anne, accepting a biscuit with reluctance.

  “Never you mind about what appeals. Mrs. Crumpet was right to scold and I shall add my voice to hers. You must eat to regain your strength again, cousin, and I intend to see to it that you do so,” said Miranda.

  Anne laughed up at her. “I see that you are a tyrant, cousin. I warn you, when I am up and about again I shall not allow you to easily browbeat me so you should take every advantage now.”

  “Fair enough. I hope that you do not take me amiss, Anne, but I think that there is much about the house that I and my maid, Constance Graves, can turn our hands to. It appalls me to see the place so neglected,” said Miranda, thinking of the unlocked front door and the utter gloom of the shrouded rooms.

  “I am not at all offended, Miranda. I feel already such familiarity between us that I can leave it in your hands without a pang. But it would ease my mind far more to know that you were keeping an eye on Robert for me. He is a dear, sweet little boy really,” said Anne.

  “Of course I shall, Anne. You may rest easy. Between myself and Constance, who comes of a large family and may be expected to understand small children, I am certain that we can redirect Robert’s energies,” said Miranda.

  Anne touched her Cousin’s arm. “Thank you, Miranda. I am so pleased that you have come. I am only contrite that I cannot offer you the entertainment that you deserve. When I am fully recovered we shall have a much nicer visit, I promise you,” she said.

  “Pray do not give it a thought. I do not, you know. Now, I think it would be best if I clear away this tray and allow you to rest a little while. I shall return later this evening,” said Miranda, suiting action to words.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  When Miranda appeared, Mrs. Crumpet hurried to take the tray from her and Miranda turned her attention to the other occupants of the kitchen. Mr. Crumpet was a tall, stooped man who perpetually wore a sad
expression that was accentuated by his drooping brown eyes and long nose. The boy sat at the plank table eating his bread and jam with quick, nervous bites. His foot swung back and forth, monotonously kicking the table leg at each swing. His clothes were crumpled as though he had not bothered to change them from the day before and a ring of dirt could be seen around his young neck where his wrinkled collar gaped.

  Miranda looked keenly at the boy’s face, which appeared somewhat cleaner than the rest of him, undoubtedly due to Mrs. Crumpet’s insistence on a scrubbing. Her small cousin appeared intelligent enough, she thought. His eyes expressed interest in all that went on about him and he met Miranda’s gaze steadily but with wary curiosity. Miranda judged him to be about seven years old.

  Miranda glanced at Constance, who smiled slightly. Taking heart from this sign of encouragement, Miranda said, “You must be Robert. I am Miss Miranda Wainwright, your mother’s cousin. I hope that we shall learn to be good friends.”

  “How do I know that you are Mama’s cousin? You may be a gypsy in disguise,” said Robert through the crumbs in his mouth.

  “Master Robert, you will not speak in such a fashion.” After delivering his warning, which hardly seemed to have been effective, Mr. Crumpet turned to Miranda. “Forgive the boy, miss. He has run wild these last weeks without a hand to guide him. He was not so pert before Mrs. Townsend was taken so ill.”

  Miranda smiled at the butler. “You are Mr. Crumpet, of course. I am most happy to make your acquaintance. I understand that you are the butler at Willowswood.”

  Mr. Crumpet was startled by the lady’s unaffected friendliness. “Aye, miss. The master and the mistress were good enough to bring me and Mrs. Crumpet to Willowswood when the house became theirs. It was quite a promotion in duties for myself.”

  “Yes, I can well imagine. And especially in the last few weeks,” said Miranda dryly, with a glance toward the boy. Mr. Crumpet could not suppress a heartfelt sigh. Miranda decided it was time to set him at ease on his future responsibilities. “Mr. Crumpet, I have spoken to my cousin concerning the odd situation here at Willowswood and she has agreed that I might institute a few changes. First of all, Mrs. Graves and I shall shoulder some of the responsibility for Robert. I imagine that will enable you to go about your regular duties with a bit more freedom. Also, there was some mention of a gardener and a groom still being about the place. I should like to meet them, with the thought that they might also be trusted to watch over our adventurous young man whenever he is out of doors.”

  “Aye, miss.” Mr. Crumpet began to look decidedly more cheerful.

  But the same could not be said for the young man in question. Robert’s expression clouded ominously. “I’ll not be hedged about by a gaggle of women and servants,” he announced with an arrogance that would have been comical if it had not been so irritating.

  Miranda stared sternly at the boy. “It is not for you to decide, young man. Your mother has made the decision and it is I who will enforce it. We shall begin directly as we mean to go on. I see that you have finished tea. Very well. The first order of business shall be a bath. I find you appallingly filthy for a civilized young man. Constance, I place you in charge of the proceedings. Pray feel free to call upon Mrs. Crumpet and the gardener if you deem it necessary.”

  “It will be my pleasure, Miss Miranda,” said Constance, glancing at the boy with a smile. The boy cast a swift glance about him, then bolted up from the table to make a beeline for the doorway. But he was not swift enough to elude Constance, who had been alert for just such a move. She held on to the squirming, yelling boy with the ease of long practice. “You remind me very much of my youngest brother, young sir. He was a fractious brother until he learned a few manners. Mrs. Crumpet, if you please, I should like some water heated while I skin this young person of his clothing.”

  “I would be most happy to oblige,” said Mrs. Crumpet, a note of satisfaction in her voice. Master Robert had been a constant trial to herself and Mr. Crumpet. It was only proper that he should have his just desserts. She put on a kettle of water over the fire. Then she bustled off with Mrs. Graves and her struggling charge to the nursery to pull out the brass tub.

  Miranda turned to the butler with a smile. “I think that we may safely leave Master Robert in Constance’s capable hands, Crumpet. If you would be so good to act as my guide, I should like to see the house in its entirety so that I might judge what matters need to be addressed next.”

  “Certainly, Miss Wainwright,” said Mr. Crumpet, a note of respect in his voice. He led her out of the kitchen on an extended tour of the house.

  It was worse than Miranda had suspected from the quick glance she had given the shrouded rooms when she and Constance had first arrived. The house suffered badly from neglect. Windows were streaked with dirt. The rooms needed dusting and the covers removed. Linens upstairs and downstairs needed to be aired. The furniture and banisters were dulled by old beeswax. The marble floor in the hall required scrubbing. Upstairs, the beds needed to be changed and aired and ashes needed to be cleaned out of fireplace grates. In many areas it was clear that the servant had left hurriedly, not bothering to neatly fold the linens or gather the wash or finish polishing the silver.

  As Miranda and the butler progressed through the house, Crumpet became increasingly apologetic, as though he alone was responsible for the slovenliness that was apparent everywhere. “I think that you and Mrs. Crumpet have done what was most important by taking care of Mrs. Townsend and the boy,” said Miranda reassuringly. But privately her heart sank at the task she had set for herself. She had expected a mess, but what she saw called out for a small army if the house was to be brought back to the state that it deserved.

  Miranda was appalled in particular at the damage that more than one rain had done to a rear gallery. A window had been left open and water and wind had contributed debris. Cobwebs hung thick and gray with dust in the musty room. At one corner the roof overhead was rotted and there was water damage on the walls and floor. It was obvious that the care that had until recently been given the front part of the house had never found its way here. Surely such chaos had not happened in the short month and a half that Anne had been ill, thought Miranda in dismay.

  The butler seemed to read her expression. “The house was in a state of great disrepair when we—that is, the family—first arrived, ma’am. Miss Claridge kept all but her own apartments shut up and had only a maid and cook to serve her. Quite eccentric, if I may say so.”

  “So she let the house go to rack and ruin,” said Miranda, staring about her with sick regret.

  “Aye, miss. Mr. Townsend set to work directly to make the front section livable, and with remarkable result if I may say so. He means to begin restoring this part of the house when he returns from the Continent,” said Crumpet.

  Miranda sent a last comprehensive glance about the sad state of the gallery. “I think that we shall concentrate on the refurbished wing, Mr. Crumpet, and leave Mr. Townsend’s project for his attention,” she said. The butler agreed that would probably be best and they made their way back to the other end of the house.

  When they had reached the kitchen once more, Miranda requested that Mrs. Crumpet fill her in on the needs of that domain. The good lady proceeded to do just that, listing everything from mutton and poultry to soap. “For I have no need to tell you, Miss Miranda, that we have not had the time to go into the village to do the shopping in ever so long. And we are not likely to get a delivery out of the blue when there are them who still thinks the mistress is a victim of the pox and speculating that we are all dead,” said Mrs. Crumpet.

  “I understand completely. The shopping must be the first order of business then, Mrs. Crumpet. Does Mrs. Townsend advance you a household fund for the purpose?” asked Miranda.

  “Aye, ma’am. But I have hesitated to ask the mistress for it since she has been so ill. I do have a good bit left from last month, seeing as how I did not get out for everything before the mistress first too
k ill and those worthless beings made off in hopes of saving their own skins,” said the cook.

  “May I suggest, then, that you and Constance make a trip to the village tomorrow afternoon for whatever items that you feel we are most in need of. Constance will wish to familiarize herself with the shops, I am sure, and with your guidance she will soon learn which to patronize. And I wish you to take Master Robert with you. It will be good for everyone to see that neither you nor Master Robert have been struck down with illness,” said Miranda. She paused a moment. “Do I dare to ask where the boy is now?”

  Mrs. Crumpet allowed herself a smile. “Mrs. Graves had Master Robert well in hand the last I saw of them. Master Robert was engaged in bringing order to his belongings abovestairs.”

  Miranda’s eyes began to dance. “How singularly appropriate. I really must congratulate Constance on her fortitude.”

  “Aye, miss,” said Mrs. Crumpet, her smile broadening.

  “What time shall you wish to serve dinner, Mrs. Crumpet?” asked Miranda.

  Mrs. Crumpet pursed her mouth, calculating. “I should think that it must be set back at least an half hour. I have yet the vegetables and the pie to do. It will be seven of the clock at least, Miss Wainwright.”

  Miranda nodded. “That will do nicely.” Miranda turned to address the butler, who had stood silently listening to the exchange. “Crumpet, I shall need to call upon you to do more than your fair share of duties yet awhile. The house calls out for attention. If you would be so good as to address those matters usually best handled by yourself or a footman, I would be most grateful. Meanwhile, Mrs. Graves and I shall concentrate on bringing a bit of order to the rooms and alternate the care of the boy between us.”

  “Aye, Miss Wainwright,” said Crumpet.

  Miranda took a breath. “I cannot think of anything else at the moment. I shall be happy for any suggestions that may occur to either of you. After all, I am a stranger at Willowswood and hardly familiar with the way things should be done.”