Page 97 of His Duchess in Disguise
“No!” Emma cried out. “And I need the saddlebags. They have my important things in them. And you can’t put Rags in with other dogs. He’s a lapdog, not a hound.”
“Is that so?” the cook commented. “Well, bring your dog, saddle, and saddlebags along then. You can clean up in the laundry room and mind you don’t make off with none of the linens. We’ll find a place for you and then see what the housekeeper says. We’s short a scullery maid, we are, and it might could be that she’ll consent to taking you on. What is your name, young woman?”
Emma opened her mouth, stopped, and then said the first name that came to mind. “Kathy, ma’am. Kathy Smith.”
The cook looked at her shrewdly. “Kathy, is it? An’ you say your father beat you?”
“Hit me once, anyway. An’ what he wanted, I just couldn’t stay. I’ll be glad to do scullery instead.”
The cook tipped “Kathy’s” face up to the light. “That’s a wicked shiner you got there. Well, it’s not a new story. Come on, we’ll see if we can set you to rights.”
The cook guided Emma/Kathy to the washroom where cauldrons of water bubbled over an open fire in a grand fireplace. She gave Emma a washbasin, a rag, and a thin towel. “There’s clean chemises hanging there on the wall, and three or four uniforms in different sizes. See what fits and get cleaned up.”
Emma did as the woman directed. She dipped hot water then cold into the basin, took out her precious hairpins, scrubbed her hair, then used the cloth to clean the mud off the rest of her. The warm water and soap felt so good that she used a second pan of water, just to make sure she was completely clean. Finally, she rinsed out her petticoats, her chemise, and her dress.
Dressed in a clean chemise and the smallest uniform, she poured her used water into a pail standing by the outer door that was clearly intended for that purpose.
A mirror of polished metal stood beside the laundry room door, and Emma used it to check her appearance and to do up her hair. She had a wooden comb in her pocket along with the money she had not spent.No opportunity really, gorse and thorn bushes don’t accept paper money or coins.Emma giggled a little at her own silliness. After tucking her reticule into her pocket and making sure it was secure beneath her skirts, she made a bundle of the rest of her things and stepped out into the kitchen.
The cook was talking with a tall, spare woman who was wearing a black dress with cloth-covered buttons down the front. She did not wear an apron, and she had a large bunch of keys hung on a belt around her waist.Must be the housekeeper.
The cook broke off her conversation. “Ah, there she is.”
“So,” said the tall woman, looking Emma up and down, “You want me to hire a tiny little thing that looks like a plucked chicken, and just might be a thief and possibly a runaway apprentice, to be the new scullery?”
“I’m not a thief, ma’am,” Emma put in. “And I wasn’t an apprentice. I’m running away from my father, who hit me and wants me to marry an awful, awful man.”
“Hmmm. Sounds more like a problem that might be had by the gentry or a peer than a serving girl.” The housekeeper peered down her long nose at Emma.
“He wanted me to marry the butcher,” Emma said, warming to her tale. “He was a big, brute of a man who has already buried one wife. He has six children, with the oldest only seven years old. He is desperate for a wife to take care of the little ones and his house.”
The housekeeper gave a snort. “Well, it is a likely enough tale. Parts of it might even be true. That bruise is certainly from a man’s hand, delivered open palm like an angry parent. Are you sure your da didn’t catch you lying out in the bushes with some young man?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. I was not seeing anybody, not even thinking about it. He was just that angry that I didn’t want to marry that fat old goat.”
“Very well. Kathy Smith is it? Does your father do smithing?”
“No, ma’am. He is a greengrocer. My great-grandfather was a smith. That’s where we get the name.”
“So, I gather you know a cabbage from an eggplant?”
“Yes, ma’am. Cabbages is green and eggplant is purple.”
“How do you get tarnish off silver?”
“You use silver polish, ma’am.”
“And green off copper?”
“Lemon or orange peel, if you got it. Rub it on and wash it off with a bit o’ soap an’ water.” Emma was getting into her role now.
“Very well. We will try you out. I am Mrs. Noddicott, the housekeeper, and that is Mrs. Chambers the cook. You will be working under her direction. You will scrub pots and pans, clean the floor, take out the ashes, peel vegetables and anything else that she sees fit to require of you. You will receive three meals a day, which you will take in the kitchen where you can help the kitchen maid watch the food. For your work, you will receive £13 a year, which will be paid out in monthly installments. You will not interact with the male staff members in any way and will conduct yourself with decorum at all times. You will not speak to the upper servants, the master of the house or anyone above your station except Mrs. Chambers. If you have a problem, you can bring it to her.”
With that, the housekeeper turned around and left the room.
Mrs. Chambers smiled at Emma. “Come along, Kathy. It is not so bad as all that, but she has to make that speech when she hires anyone. You are hungry, I don’t doubt, after spending the night out on the chalk. I’d let you sleep and start you out tomorrow, but I am that desperate for a scullery I just don’t dare. The Duke is to be home soon, and the house needs to be spotless top to bottom. I’m afraid the bottom part is your responsibility.”
Mrs. Chambers took up a bowl made out of hard bread, spooned some stew into it and handed Emma a small wooden spoon. “You eat that up quick, now, and then I’ll show you your work.”
