by Adrien Leduc
"Because you haven't been deserving of one, Caroline. Now, we'll talk about this another time as we are here to see Peter off. Don't you want to wish him well?"
The little girl nodded and looked at Peter. "I hope you have a safe journey, Peter."
"Aww, thanks Caroline," he answered, picking her up and giving her a twirl in the air.
"We'll miss you. And your taffee."
Ernest and Miss Foster exchanged a smile.
"Well, I'll be back before you know it. And I'll make you a fresh batch of taffee soon as I get home. And hey, I'll bring you some sweets from London, eh? How'd you like that?"
"Really?" the girl asked, her eyes wide.
"Really."
"Wow. Mother. Did you hear what Peter said?"
Lady Hutchinson nodded perfunctorily. "I did. And you should be thanking him for his generosity."
"Thank you, Peter."
"You're welcome, Caroline," the cook answered, setting the girl back down.
Just then, the loud bell sounded for the Kingston-Montreal ferry, catching the attention of all those crowded together on the wharf.
"That'll be the ten minute warning," said Ernest, glancing at his pocket watch. "Best you get on board, Peter."
"Aye."
"And be sure to keep a close eye on your things at all times," Lady Hutchinson warned.
"I will, Madam."
"Because you never know what sort of thieves and ruffians may be on board," she added, glancing at a swarthy-looking fellow who stood a few feet away.
"Aye."
The horn gave another blast.
"Well, five weeks. And I'll be back. Wish me luck."
"Good luck, Peter," said Miss Foster warmly, wrapping her arms around the young man.
"Thanks, Miss Foster," he said, glancing at Ernest.
The butler, knowing the cook's previous affection for Miss Foster, winked and stepped forwards as she released him. "Come back to us safe and sound, lad."
"I will."
"Good. Because no one cooks as well as you. Isn't that right, Madam?" Ernest asked, turning to face the woman.
"Well, I do make a scrumptious tomato soup - "
Ernest and Miss Foster both looked at her until she conceded.
"But yes, I suppose. Peter, you shall be sorely missed. So hurry back."
"Er...thank you, Madam," the young man answered, taken aback by her compliment.
"Now, off with ya," said Ernest. "Got to find your cabin. Make sure you take the bottom bunk. Much less rolling that way. Mind you, you're not at sea yet. But, when you depart from Montreal."
"Right."
"And don't eat too much when you're at sea, either," Miss Foster added.
"I won't."
"Good. Because I still remember when we came over all those years ago. First to New York, of course, and then on to Boston. But Arthur just couldn't help himself from eating the desserts on board. Cakes and biscuits and all sorts. And he was sick as a dog. Poor Betty - she was our governess at the time - had to sit with him for three days straight while he emptied himself."
"Heavens," said Lady Hutchinson as Caroline began to pull on her petticoat.
"Mum...can we go..."
"Caroline..."
"Well, see you all in five weeks then," Peter piped up, hoisting his bag over his shoulder.
"Yes. Five weeks. Very good. Safe travels, Peter."
"Thank you, all. And you especially, Ernest," the cook added, lowering his voice. "I promise. I will pay you back as soon as I am able."
"No rush, lad. You go and see your mother. Give her our well wishes," Ernest finished, patting the young man affecetionately on the shoulder.
"I will. Thank you."
The horn emitted a third and final blast.
"That'll be your five minute warning. Best get off!"
"I'm going. I'll see you all very soon. Take care of yourselves."
"Bye, Peter. Safe travels."
The group watched as the young man gave a final wave before making his way onto the gangway. An agent took his ticket and he found himself a spot on deck.
Several minutes later, the ferry sounded a final blast and pulled away from the wharf. The crowd was packed tightly, all around them, and Ernest hoisted Caroline onto his shoulders so she could have a proper view of the departing vessel.
"BYE!"
"GOODBYE!"
There were camera flashes, white handkerchiefs, and joyful shouts. A quarter of an hour later, when the ferry was well in the distance, the crowd parted and their group returned home.
- 11 -
Several weeks had passed since Lord Hutchinson had been to see Lord Black, though Ernest still couldn't guess what was troubling his employer. Not that Lord Hutchinson made it easy. For he no longer took his meals with his wife and daughter, and he was seldom at home. On the rare occasion that he was, he would lock himself away in his study. It was on such an afternoon, with the rain pouring fast and hard outside, that Ernest rapped at the door to Lord Hutchinson's study.
"Master Hutchinson?"
There was no answer.
"Master Hutchinson?" he said, louder this time, rapping once more on the door.
"Yes."
"Glad to here you're still alive, Sir."
"Yes, yes. What do you want?"
"Well, I was wondering...I was wondering..."
What did he want? Lord Hutchinson out of his room. Jovial once more. Happy and carefree. No longer causing Lady Hutchinson to fret her poor heart out.
"I was wondering if you would perhaps enjoy a game of chess..." he said hopefully.
Lord Hutchinson coughed, but did not answer.
"Well?" Ernest asked after a minute.
"No, I don't think so, Ernest. I'm quite tired today."
"Alright, but if I may say so, Sir, I think it would do you good. Take your mind off things."
"I don't imagine that it would, Ernest. But thank you for the offer."
At a loss for words, Ernest apologized for disturbing his master and made his way back downstairs.
"Ernest?"
"Yes, Madam?"
"Come here a second, would you?"
"Er...alright."
"Mrs. Winthrop would like to size up your pocket watch. I told her you had one. She'll be purchasing one for Mr. Winthrop's birthday."
"Ah, I see," said the butler, stepping into the parlour where the ladies were gathered round the table, some sipping tea, others knitting.
"He's all yours, Mrs. Winthrop," Lady Hutchinson said with a smile. "Though you can only use him to measure - nothing more. Goodness knows, with Peter gone we need our Ernest more than ever."
Mrs. Winthrop emitted one of her bleating laughs that caused Ernest's hair to stand on end.
"I wouldn't dare deprive you of your butler, Lady Hutchinson! You know that!"
"Yes, yes, I know, Mrs. Winthrop," said Lady Hutchinson dismissively, ushering the woman towards Ernest who stood there like a mummy.
"Alright, there, now let me just get out my measuring tape..."
Several minutes later, with Ernest feeling somewhat violated, he strode from the parlour, re-adjusting his pants.
Tea and biscuits, tea and biscuits, tea and biscuits...such trivial nuisances at a time when my master needs me. Even Caroline's puppy is more important than this - Caroline's puppy. What a fantastic idea. Would that take Master Hutchinson's mind off his troubles? A young pup with big brown eyes and boundless energy running around the house? A gleeful and giddy Caroline. A relaxed Lady Hutchinson? By jove, Ernest Caldwell, you are a smart man.
Eager to get to work on finding Caroline a puppy, the butler hurried to the kitchen.
Miss Foster would know where to get one. I have to go and see Miss Foster. Shame I didn't speak to her about it when we were over the other day. Oh well, perhaps I can get there this afternoon.
Hastily adding kindling to the stove, he set the kettle on top and began to prepare a second platter of cookies. He noticed the jar
was nearly empty.
Hurry home, Peter.
The platter of cookies ready to serve, Ernest made a fresh pot of tea and returned to the parlour. He coughed politely so that Lady Windermere would move aside and then set the contents of his tray on the large coffee table in the centre of the room.
"And you should see the work they've done on the waterfront!" Lady Hutchinson exclaimed. "You'd hardly know there was a fire two years ago!"
"I know," Mrs. Avery affirmed. "And this new limestone or whatever it is that they're calling it - it's rather pretty. Oh, and you’ll be happy to know Mr. Fletcher has already got his shop all fixed up for the summer season."
"Is Mr. Fletcher the man who sells souvenirs? To tourists? In the summer, down at the port?"
"Yes. That's him. I believe you've met his wife at one of my dinner parties. The one who always wears her hair up like a beehive. Goodness, what a silly idea."
Ernest drowned the clucking out and, telling Lady Hutchinson he had to fetch more milk from the corner store, then quickly left the parlour and headed to his bedroom. If he hurried he could make it to Miss Foster's and back within a half an hour. A little longer than Lady Hutchinson would like him gone no doubt, but he could surely think up some excuse. He would also need to bring some milk with him - he wouldn't have time to stop on the way.
What an inconvenience, he thought as he grabbed his hat and made for the kitchen. He found the milk jug, filled it, corked it and then hurried outside, through the back door. It was half past two. Given the rain, Miss Foster would most likely be at home. Though one could never be sure. She was so busy now with baby Grace and out at all hours visiting and entertaining.
Hopefully she isn't entertaining at the moment.
The butler shut the door tight and then hurried along Princess Street. Past the butcher's where Linda's father was hanging sausage in the window, past the wine sellers advertising a bottle for fifty pence, and past the corner store where Mr. Hayden gave him a friendly wave.
Ernest crossed the street and headed up Kemp Street where Miss Foster's three storey doll house loomed in the distance.
"Pardon me, excuse me," he said as he stepped around idle pedestrians.
This better not be a hopeless pursuit, he thought as he checked his pocket watch. It was nearly a quarter past now and Lady Hutchinson would be calling for him any minute - if she hadn't already. Two minutes later he strode up the walk of Miss Foster's residence and rang the bell hanging outside.
"Just a minute," he heard Winston shout from inside.
A second later the two butlers were facing one another.
"Ernest! What a happy coincidence! Miss Foster was just discussing you!”
"Oh?" the older butler replied as Winston held the door for him.
"Yes. Nothing bad of course. No, no. Just mindless chitchat. Miss Foster was telling Mrs. Hayden your role in the matter of baby Grace."
"Ah, I see," said Ernest slowly, stepping inside and removing his hat.
So she has company...
"ERNEST? WINSTON, IS THAT ERNEST?"
"YES, MISS FOSTER," the two butlers chimed in unison.
Winston chuckled and Ernest managed a polite smile.
"COME IN, ERNEST! DO COME IN! I WAS JUST TELLING MRS. HAYDEN ALL ABOUT YOUR HEROICS!" Miss Foster’s voice rang loudly from her parlour.
The butler's ears reddened and Winston gave him an approving nod.
"I'D HARDLY CALL CHARITY, HEROICS, MISS FOSTER," he said, making his way through the ante room and into the parlour where Miss Foster and Mrs. Hayden were seated in a pair of wicar chaises.
"Oh, don't be so modest you silly man," the young heiress cooed. "Winston?"
Winston's face appeared in the doorway.
"Bring Ernest a cup of tea, will you?"
"Oh no, Miss Foster, it's quite alright," said Ernest, raising a hand. "I can't stay long. I just came to ask...another favour..."
"Not another baby!?" Mrs. Avery said dramatically.
Ernest smiled and shook his head. "No, no. But be sure, Mrs. Hayden. Next time there's a baby in need of a home, I'll be sure to come to you and Mr. Hayden. Young William would enjoy having a brother or sister, I'm sure."
The shopkeeper's wife laughed heartily. "He might very well enjoy a brother or sister, but it ain't him who's got to do the pushin'!"
"But of course, that work is usually left to the mother."
"And so 'tis the mother who decides whether she'll have another baby or not!"
"I do hope you know that I'm only saying this in jest, Mrs. Hayden."
"Yes, I gathered that, Ernest."
"Well then, you'll be happy to know that I am not in need of a home for a baby, but rather a puppy. And it is the puppy I want - not the home."
"You mean, you want a puppy, Ernest?" Miss Foster asked, wide-eyed. "But what will Lady Hutchinson say? She hates animals!"
Ernest shrugged. "I really don't know. But frankly, at this point, I don't care either. There's a black cloud hanging over the Hutchinson house and I need to do something to cheer them up. What better way than to get a puppy? Caroline's been pining for one for months."
"Yes, but - " Miss Foster began to protest.
"If I may," Mrs. Hayden interrupted. "By a stroke of sheer luck my sister's bitch has just had a litter and she's got six of the little runts running around."
Ernest looked at her flabbergasted. "Really? You've got puppies? What sort?"
"Bull terrier."
"And she's got six of them, you say?"
"Why, yes. That's what I said."
"Well, goodness. May I purchase one? Name your price," he added, whipping out his pocket book.
"I'm sorry, Ernest, but they're rather expensive. She breeds them, you see."
"Yes? And?"
"Well, I think what Mrs. Hayden is trying to say, Ernest," Miss Foster interjected, "is that she'd feel guilty offering one to you when the price is, I imagine, quite high."
"Yes, yes, I gathered that," the butler answered, waving his hand dismissively. "Just name your price and I'll pay."
Winston and the two women exchanged glances.
"Well, don't be all day about it!" Ernest snapped.
"Fifty pounds."
"Fifty pounds?"
That would only leave him with a hundred more. Just a month ago he'd had nearly three times that.
But what with the loan to Peter and all - and now this. Still, if this is what will improve the disposition of my masters...
"I'll take one," he said finally. "To whom do I make out this money order?"
Suspense filled Ernest the next morning as he awaited the arrival of Mrs. Hayden's sister and the bull terrier pup. Every chance he got he would look out the window until finally Lady Hutchinson had had enough and demanded to know why he was "such a basket of nerves".
"Madam, I simply wish to get outside and enjoy the nice day. As soon as you're through with breakfast, I think I'll take a walk."
"Well, don't be all day about it. There's laundry to do today."
"Yes, Madam."
"And bring me some more tea."
"Yes, Madam."
The butler left Lady Hutchinson and Caroline in the dining room and returned to the kitchen for more tea. Giddy with excitement, he could hardly contain himself and he did a little jig as he set the kettle on to boil.
"Oh, I can't wait," he said aloud. "Just wait. Caroline with a new puppy in her arms."
And what if my mistress disapproves of it? Will she force me to return it? Oh she just can't. Not when it will make young Caroline so happy.
He paced back and forth for several minutes, anxiously wondering when Mrs. Hayden's sister would arrive and whether Lady Hutchinson would approve of his purchase.
Too late now.
The kettle boiling, Ernest removed it from the stovetop and began filling the teapot. Suddenly though, he stopped. The butler was sure he'd heard a knock at the front door. One could never tell from the kitchen however. He set down t
he kettle and made his way to the kitchen door.
Let's just see.
Ernest opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Nothing. No one.
Hmph.
Just as he was about to return to the kitchen though, he heard it again. Knocking.
This is it! She's here! Goodness!
He wanted to be the one to greet Mrs. Hayden's sister. He had to be the one.
If my mistress answers the door and turns her away like everyone else who’d tried to sell goods at the door…
Racing down the corridor he nearly collided with Caroline and Lady Hutchinson who had both left the dining room to see who was at the door.
"Ernest! Good Lord in heaven! What in blazes are you running about like a madman for?"
"Er...no reason, Madam," the butler replied quickly, stepping around them and pulling open the door.
"Good morning!"
"Hello."
She was a portly thing, but the resemblance to her elder sister was uncanny.
"Ernest Caldwell," said Ernest, extending a hand. "How do you do?"
"Patricia Owens. A pleasure to meet you."
"Ernest? What's all this about?" Lady Hutchinson demanded, coming up behind him.
"A puppy!" Caroline shrieked happily. "Oh mother! A puppy! Is it for me?"
"Why...I don't know. Ernest? What's the meaning of this?"
"My name is Patricia Owens, Madam. Pleased to meet you."
"Yes...yes...Miss Owens," Lady Hutchinson answered automatically. "How do you do?"
"I'm quite fine, thank you. I'm here to see Ernest about Rosa here."
"Rosa? Who's Rosa?"
"Rosa's the finest looking one of the lot," the heavy-set woman replied cheerfully. "Take her."
And with that, Patricia Owens pushed Ernest aside and handed the yelping bull terrier to Lady Hutchinson.
"Why I never!"
"What's the matter, Madam?"
"You've just handed me a...rodent. An animal. A..."
Lady Hutchinson's protestations ceased as the helpless pup burrowed itself in the woman's arms, whimpering softly.
"Why, she's quite adorable, I suppose."
Ernest smiled happily as Caroline tugged at her mother's sleeve.
"Mother, mother! I want a turn! I want a turn! Let me hold him!"
"It's a she, darling. And you can hold her just as soon as Miss Owens here finishes explaining why she's brought us this little...bundle of excitement," she finished, looking affectionately at the animal in her arms.
"Yes, of course, Lady Hutchinson. It was Ernest. Ernest bought one from my sister. You know? Dolores Hayden?"
"Ah, you're Mrs. Hayden's sister, then?"
