Page 104 of His Duchess in Disguise
“Because,” Leo replied, “Robbie was born on the estate. A more mischievous, inquisitive young lout I’ve yet to see. I assigned him as Hamilton’s aide because no one on the estate has more knowledge of the land or the people hereabouts. And because it will give him something useful to do with all of that knowledge besides tipping outhouses or poaching rabbits.”
The captain laughed. “I’ve dealt with more than one raw recruit by putting him in charge of something that would have him doing what he would have gotten in trouble for doing. So, you harnessed his energy and gave Mr. Hamilton an able assistant who knows the area. Clever, my friend, quite clever.” Then he sobered a bit. “What else did your Robbie find out?”
“He found the mare in the farmer’s pasture, right enough, and the farmer that livid at having exchanged ‘a wuthless ol’ mare for a good, young workin’ donkey.’ He was glad to have the return of the donkey and agreed to keep the mare on – at a suitable boarding fee, of course . . .”
“Of course,” Captain Arnault echoed with amusement.
“ . . . and to nurse her lame hoof. He had quite a bit to say about the last person who shod the old girl, and Hamilton is sending over the estate smith to rectify the problem.”
“So, she is rideable?”
“She will be. From the report I received, her general condition indicates it has been some time since she was properly cared for.”
“What will you do with her? I can’t think that a kitchen maid would have the blunt to support a horse.”
“You think rightly. But I’ll bring her here and give her stable room when she is able to travel, just as Mrs. Chambers allowed that rag mop canine to bed down with the spit dogs and share their meat. I’ll own though, Mrs. Noddicott says that the little creature is quite the mouser. He might pay for his own keep with catching rodents.”
The two gentlemen rode on in silence for a time. It was not until they turned back that Captain Arnault asked, “What will you do with her?”
“Do? Probably nothing. Since she’s been promoted from scullery to kitchen maid, Mrs. Chambers put her in the kitchen maid’s quarters just off the laundry room. She says the girl writes a fair hand, so she’ll put her to writing labels or lists or some-such until the hand heals. Meanwhile, she’ll see if she can discern what skills she really does have since it seems that chopping carrots isn’t one of them.”
Captain Arnault gave a shout of laughter that made the gelding snort and buck. When he got the beast under control again, he said, “This one might be for the glue factory. Flighty beast. So, you don’t intend to turn her in? Or at least make inquiry?”
Leo shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “It is plain to anyone that she was abused in some way. My father was not a man of great sensitivity, but he made it plain to my older brother and I that women were to be protected and cared for. He set an excellent example in his treatment of my mother and the respect with which he spoke of his first wife, my brother’s mother. He did not hold with striking women.”
Captain Arnault nodded his understanding. “Quite so. But what if someone comes looking for her?”
“So, what if they do? I’m not in the habit of second-guessing Mrs. Noddicott’s hiring of kitchen help. She showed up on our doorstep, needing work just when we were shorthanded.”
Since they had reached the stable, Leo swung down off his horse and handed it over to one of the grooms. The captain dismounted from the gelding and remarked, “That one is getting sold. He isn’t likely to stand during a fusillade, and he has a gait like an old potato wagon.” He then turned to Leo. “It is your estate, your kitchen and your staff, Your Grace. I just hope you don’t have cause to regret your decision.”
Chapter 18
The next day, Emma awoke because her hand throbbed painfully. Nonetheless, she dressed, an awkward business thanks to the hand, and went out to the kitchen.
When Mrs. Chambers unwrapped the hand, the caked flour fell away from the cut. She then gently sponged Emma’s hand clean, exposing a neat scab that was beginning to form. “Excellent! We won’t need to send back for that surgeon fellow. Clearly, he knows his business when it comes to treating wounds. We’ll rewrap it,” she continued speaking while she worked at that very task, “And you can sort the apple and turnip baskets today. That doesn’t take two hands, and Matthew, the new scullion, can carry the bad ones out to the poultry coops when you are done.”
Mrs. Chambers then gave Emma some bread and butter and a cup of the ubiquitous mint tea before showing her where she was to work.
It was chilly and damp in the cellar, but Emma was glad that the mistake she had made when cutting the carrots was not going to cause her to lose her place. “While I might not want to be a kitchen maid all my life,” she told a wrinkled turnip, “I’d just as soon not be without a position.”
“Talkin’ to old turnips? I’d believe ye’re daft for sure then. Some kitchen maid you are,” Matthew, the scullion, scoffed, “as don’t even know how to chop carrots proper.”
“I know how to chop carrots,” she protested. “I’d just never chopped that many nor any so big and fat as that one. You can take that basket of apples.” Emma tapped her toe against the bushel of rotten fruit.
Matthew sneered, but since he had been given instructions by the cook, he picked up and hauled the dripping basket away.
Since she had nothing else to do while she worked her way through several baskets of fruit, Emma began to make up silly songs while she worked.
“Hop, bop, apple pop,” she sang, “Hermit, turnip, silly fop. Some for tarts, some for stew, some for bread, some for brews…” Her voice was a light soprano, untrained but true and pleasant.
Mrs. Chambers came down to pick up some of the apples and turnips to add to the evening meal.
“I’ve never heard that song, Kathy,” she commented. “Do they sing it where you come from?”
“I’m just making it up,” Emma said. “It’s just silly words. It helps to pass the time while I’m working.”
“It’s not a bad thought when you are alone down here in the cellar. Just make sure you don’t do it while waiting tables or the like. How is your hand?”
