Page 20 of Beyond Her Manner
“Good. I need this time off, Caroline, and you promised me nothing until the end of summer.”
“I know, I know,” Caroline reassured her. “You can hold me to that.”
Viola breathed deeply with relief. After years of working with little rest, she needed some time to restore herself, especially after losing her mum.
“How are you getting on with the savages?”
“Well, like I said, everyone wants something. There’s been an endless stream of locals visiting; some bring flowers whilst others demand access to my land or my house like it’s their birthright. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, and I’ve already donated thousands to restore the cricket pavilion just to get the damn chairman of the cricket club off my back. Even the local reverend has been bothering me about attending church on Sunday. Apparently, I have my very own pew at the front, andhe wants me to join some church committee as an honourable member.”
“Do people still go to church?” Caroline said, clearly fascinated.
“Apparently. I won’t be going. I came here to disappear for a while, but it’s like the locals all think I hold some position.”
“You do. Lady of the manor,” Caroline snarked.
“Oh, don’t you start. I wish everyone would leave me alone.”
“On that note, I need to head into a meeting.”
Viola laughed. “It doesn’t apply to you, but yes, go. I need to prepare myself for Mrs Johnson, whom I hope will be my cook and housekeeper.”
“I’m glad to hear you’ll be getting some help. It looks like a big place, and you don’t want to be dusting and hoovering it. We’ll never have you singing again.”
Muttering her agreement and a farewell, Viola disconnected the call. Taking in her surroundings, she realised how beautiful the estate looked from here. With the manor at the end of the path to the left and the top of the church spire poking above the trees to the right, an expanse lay between, comprising a small valley with a stream and the hill beyond. One could pass the time of day very easily just sitting there — not today, though; there were things to do. She noticed a plaque on the bench as she stood up.
Henrietta Fotherington
Taken too soon. Missed forever.
It was a bit mysterious, perhaps a relation of the Carmichaels. Bridget said they’d lived on the estate for more than four hundred years. Thinking no more of it, Viola returned to the house to await Mrs Johnson, who arrived precisely ontime. This pleased Viola to no end; punctuality was an essential skill for a cook, though any previous employee of Gillian’s was likely to be well trained or more likely running on fear.
“Come through to the kitchen; it’s just being renovated. It will have all the mod cons once it’s done,” Viola added, hoping selling the kitchen would help persuade the woman to come and work for her.
Mrs Johnson ran a fingertip along the top of an old cast-iron radiator as they passed through the great hall. Examining the thick layer of dirt on the end of it, she scowled.
Viola felt compelled to justify the mess. “There’s a lot of dust from all the work going on. You can see why I’m in need of some help.”
Mrs Johnson didn’t react, which made Viola a little nervous as she followed her into the kitchen.
“Golly! You’ve gone to town in here,” Mrs Johnson said, looking around as they entered. “Not a trace of the old one. It’s magnificent.”
“I’m not sure it will please Gillian Carmichael,” Viola said, though she inwardly cringed at her own question. She’d been hoping to gauge some reaction for the fallout she might expect when news got around, but what was she thinking? She didn’t care what that woman thought anyway.
“Ah yes, Mrs Carmichael,” Mrs Johnson replied. “What a woman.”
“Yes, indeed,” Viola agreed, shaking her head.
“Such a respectful, kind, and generous woman. She’s a true saint.”
Viola looked at her to see if she was joking. She was aggrieved to find what she could only describe as deep affection in the woman’s eyes.
“I have a lot of respect for her. She dedicated her life to this estate, only to lose it thanks to that husband of hers. I never likedhim. The loss of a husband like him a woman can quite easily bear. The loss of Kingsford…” She shook her head. “I dare say it broke her heart. Not that she’d admit it. She’s nothing but grace and fortitude.”
“Really?” Viola couldn’t help blustering. “Are we talking about the same Gillian Carmichael?”
Mrs Johnson let out a laugh. “She may have a way about her, but she did her job remarkably efficiently.”
“Her job?”
