But if he went, who would he get in his place?
Jemmy! Of course, Jemmy would be perfect. The young man was already showing an interest in cooking, knew his ways, and knew the kitchen.
“Jemmy?” Mayson called over the hubbub of morning breakfast preparations.
“Yessir?” Jemmy hastened toward him, wiping perspiration from his face with his sleeve.
“Here,” Mayson said, handing him a piece of rough toweling, “Use that. Don’t wipe your face on your uniform.”
“Sorry, Mr. Rudge,” Jemmy said. “Did you need me for something?”
“Yes, indeed,” Mayson said. “Let us go out on the stoop where it is a little cooler and we can hear ourselves think.”
“Can we do that right now, Mr. Rudge?” Jemmy looked worried.
“Let me worry about that, Jemmy. Everything is simmering, so I believe we can, for just a few minutes.”
The two of them exited the kitchen by the garden door, leaving behind the clatter of the maids chattering to each other as they loaded the breakfast trays. The food was cooked and on the central table, so they should require little or no help. In addition, other than the daily soup which Mayson had just stirred, there was nothing to boil over or scorch.
“How can I help, Mr. Rudge?” Jemmy asked, as they stepped out into the fresh air. Since it was nearly July now, the day was already beginning to warm up nicely. Birds twittered in the trees. There were voices of mowers at work, and the mumbles and grunts of the milch cows being turned out to pasture behind the main barn.
Mayson took a moment to survey the scene, and to breathe in air untainted by cooking fires. Then he said, “Jemmy, how would you like to be undercook?”
“Would I ever! Mr. Rudge, do you mean it?”
“I do, Jemmy. You have been doing a good job with baking the bread. I believe you can learn to do more exacting tasks.”
“But, what about Mr. Sparks?”
“That is between me and Mr. Sparks, Jemmy. Lesson one about being a cook: you must learn to manage people as well as food. You should also improve your manners.”
“I’ll do my very best, Mr. Rudge. I will listen and learn all you can tell me. This is just fine! Super fine! I can’t wait to tell me Mum.”
Mayson smiled at the young man. “You’ve earned it, Jemmy. I’m afraid for a few days it might mean doing two jobs until we can get a replacement for you.”
“I can do it,” Jemmy declared. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Rudge! When do I start?”
“Today, if you can manage to wash pots and keep an eye on the soup and the roast.”
“That won’t be no problem at all,” Jemmy declared. “I’ve been mostly...” His speech skidded to a halt as he realized what he had been about to say.
“I know, Jemmy. That is why you are getting this chance. Now, we had best get back in there before the soup boils over or sticks. You will be in charge for a brief time while I go speak with the Duchess.”
“Do not worry, Mr. Rudge. I will see to it.”
Mayson smiled as he listened to the boy tidy up his speech to meet the expectations of his new role. Jemmy would do fine. Unfortunately, Mayson was not so sure of Mr. Sparks.
Mr. Sparks was an older man, nudging the edges of elderly. Of late, he had been taking to his “rheumatiz” medicine a little more heartily than was probably good for him. He had also grown dangerously vague. He did not want to just turn the old man off, but neither could he continue to employ him in the kitchen.
Mayson was concerned about intruding on the Duchess’ breakfast, but he knew that he needed to do something about Mr. Sparks right away.
When Evelyn came pattering down the stairs, he had an excellent breakfast already loaded on two trays. This would give a good excuse for his going upstairs with her.
“Oh my,” Evelyn said, “that is a lot of food for the Duchess and me. Are we expecting company for breakfast?”
“Not precisely,” Mayson said. “I need to speak with the Duchess. Is she having a good morning?”
“She is,” Evelyn said cautiously. “Why do I get the feeling that she will shortly not be having as good a morning?”
“I need to remove Mr. Sparks as undercook.”
“Goodness! He has been here forever.”
“Yes, he has. And that, I fear, is part of the problem. He is getting on in years and is not as diligent as one could wish. I am hoping that we can pension him off. He has been talking about going to live with his daughter.”
“That seems like a good solution,” Evelyn said. “I’m fairly certain the Duchess will approve it. She is aware of some of the adjustments you have had to make to the dinners.”
Mayson helped Evelyn carry dishes upstairs. Although it was not customary, he had done this often enough recently that it was unlikely to excite comment.
Evelyn entered the Duchess’ drawing room first, saying, “Mr. Rudge has helped carry up your breakfast, and he has a matter he would like to discuss with you.”
“Is my cap on straight?” he heard the Duchess ask. “Make sure my shawl is settled correctly and send him in. Do you think he has time to sit down with us for a cup of tea?”
There were sounds of quick bustling. No doubt, Evelyn setting the Duchess to rights before inviting a gentleman into her private drawing room. In just a few minutes, Evelyn ushered Mayson into the room.
“Set the tray right there,” she said. “Your Grace, shall I pour you a cup?”
“Indeed,” said the Duchess, “go right ahead. And pour a cup for Mr. Rudge. He looks as if he has weighty matters on his mind.”
“Indeed, Your Grace, I do,” Mayson said. “I am so sorry to bring to you a difficulty so early in the morning, but I feel that the sooner it is dealt with the better.”
“Well, well,” said the Duchess, “Let us each have a sip of tea and a bite of these excellent muffins, then we shall get to it.”
So for the next few minutes they did nothing but eat and drink while the tension stretched and grew.
“Now then,” the Duchess said, “what is the problem?”
“It is Mr. Sparks,” Mayson replied.
“What has that old reprobate done now?” the Duchess asked, with no little exasperation.
“He burned the roast,” Mayson said.
“He burned the roast. But surely that is not a tragedy or an event of great immensity.”
“Perhaps not, Your Grace,” Mayson agreed, “but in the process he filled the kitchen with smoke and nearly set his own hat on fire. Nor is this the first time for such an event.”
“Nearly set his hat on fire! That is a matter of greater import. So the poor old soul is becoming a danger to himself.”
“And to the entire kitchen and household, I fear, Your Grace. I understand that it is because he is old, and his rheumatic joints pain him.”
“Oh goodness, I certainly do understand about rheumatism and pains,” the Duchess said. “So Mr. Rudge, what do you propose for Mr. Sparks?”
“It is my hope, Your Grace that we can pension him off. He has been talking about going to live with his daughter. Do you know anything about her? Would she take good care of him?”
“Well, I do not know her personally, but I believe that the butler does. In fact, I think she is his niece. Perhaps we should summon the butler.”
“Oh dear,” said Mayson, suddenly realizing that he might have skipped a step in the household hierarchy, “Perhaps I should have spoken with the butler first.”
“Perhaps, but no matter. We will speak with him now,” the Duchess said. “Between the four of us, I am sure we can find a good solution for Mr. Sparks.”
When the butler came in, he looked very grave. But he did not say anything until the Duchess asked, “What do you know of Mr. Sparks?”
“He came with me from your father's household,” Wilson replied, “and he has given good service for many years. He had hoped to be promoted to head cook but Mr. Rudge came with such excellent recommendations that he was hired instead. It was probably
a good thing.”
“Oh? Why do you say that?” the Duchess asked.
“Frankly, Your Grace, of late, Mr. Sparks’ wits have begun to wander. My nephew’s wife, his daughter, has been trying to get him to move in with her. But he does not wish to be a burden.”
“Has he nothing saved from his pay?” The Duchess looked a little scandalized.
“Sadly, no. He started drinking brandy for his rheumatism and that was well enough at first. But now he has a nip whenever he is feeling lonely or upset or when his rheumatism is hurting him. Brandy is not part of his household allowance, and even though he buys the cheapest kind from the village innkeeper, he has spent most of what he had put by.”
“Then it would seem,” the Duchess said, “that it is not a good idea to simply give him a pension.”
“No, probably not,” the butler said. “But I believe you could pay his daughter for the keeping of him and that would serve very well. She will ration out his brandy or perhaps give him a little pint money in case he wants to spend an evening at the inn. Then he will no longer be trying to set our kitchen on fire. But who will you get in his place, Mr. Rudge?”
“I was thinking of promoting Jemmy. He is steady and he has been here several months now. He shows an interest in cooking and I believe would be quite pleased with a promotion. Although he has not said so, I think he might be courting one of the village girls.”
“Is that indeed so, Mr. Rudge?” The butler lifted his eyebrows.
“It is my belief. I have no confirmation of that,” Mayson said.
“Well, well, it is always good when we can hire our local people,” the butler ruminated. “And if he is courting one of the ladies from the village, it will give him incentive to stay with us. Are you willing to train him?”
“I would not have suggested it if I were not,” Mayson replied.
“Then all we need is to speak with Mr. Sparks to set this plan forward,” the Duchess said. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, gentlemen. I believe we have a plan that will be good for everyone. Will you make the arrangements?” she directed this latter to Wilson.
“I will,” the butler said, “and willingly. More than once I or one of the maids have had to rescue him from the coals after Mr. Rudge has gone to bed. It will be a relief not to continue keeping watch over him.”
Mayson bowed to the Duchess and gave a nod to Wilson. “Thank you both for your kindness,” he said. “Now, if I might be excused, I should get back to the kitchen. I have a potboy to promote and he has no one to take his place.”
“I will send to the agency at once,” the Duchess said. “Do not trouble yourself on that account, Mr. Rudge.”
“Then I will leave that in your capable hands, Your Grace,” Mayson said. Bowing once more, he let himself out, leaving the butler, the Duchess, and Evelyn to sort out the arrangements for Mr. Sparks.
There was one thing left to do now, and that was to inform Mr. Sparks that Jemmy would take his place. The thought filled him with no little trepidation. In addition, there was a little niggling thought—who would cook for the Duchess if he took up his title? If he did, would he even live to see the end of summer?
Chapter 19
Evelyn smiled happily at Mayson. The mid-July sunshine shone down upon her new bonnet and she was feeling quite carefree. The picnic basket swung between them as they walked toward their usual spot beneath the old willow.
“So how is Jemmy doing as under cook?” she asked.
“He is doing quite well,” Mayson replied. “I am very pleased with his work.”
“Is he indeed courting one of the young ladies from the village?”
“I believe so. The shopkeeper’s daughter, if I’m not mistaken.”
“She is round and rosy, very sweet tempered and pretty,” Evelyn commented. “I hope they make each other very happy.”
“I am doing my best to make that completely possible,” Mayson said. “It has been my observation that while money might not be everything, a steady, reliable sum goes a long way toward making family life much more...” He paused, as if rummaging through a mental attic for the right word.
“Pleasant,” Evelyn put in. “I know what you’re talking about, Mayson. I’ve seen the families where there was not enough income to feed everyone and somebody had to go completely without, or else everyone went a little bit hungry. Money won't buy happiness, but it will buy things that people need to feel better.”
“That is exactly what I wanted to say,” Mayson said. “But what of Mr. Sparks, have you heard from him? I have not seen him or heard word since he left the Dowager House. He was no little upset with me at the time.”
“The butler says that he is adjusting nicely. He spends his time either playing with the baby or sleeping in front of the fire. His daughter is glad to have him there. She’s also glad of the small stipend that the Duchess settled on her for taking care of the old man.”
“I’m glad things are working out for him,” Mayson said. “We had all grown very worried about him, and I was concerned about what he was doing to the food. That last poor roast was so scorched that I had to trim away nearly half of it, and not even the dogs in the kennel would eat the burned parts.”
“That is worrisome. I know that the Duchess has a reliable income, but even so, waste can lead to want.”
“I’ve seen that, too,” Mayson said. “My father, for example, with his desire to make his estate beautiful, frequently placed the household at a disadvantage because he wanted a new bit of marble or he wanted a fountain. In some ways, it is no wonder that my uncle wanted to have an end to his wastrel ways.”
“But that hardly seems like good grounds for the way your uncle treated you.”
Mayson shrugged. “I was in his way and now he is in my way. I’m in a quandary, Evelyn. I like the work I am doing. I feel I have purpose. Yet in order to take up this other obligation, I am going to have to quit. It feels as if I am shirking my duty.”
“Perhaps you need not right away,” Evelyn said. “There is Jemmy to train, and you will need funds to bribe officials and pay fees for necessary paperwork.”
“True enough,” Mayson said, taking the picnic basket and setting it in the middle of the platform beneath the willow. “I have every reason to want to stay here right now.” He looked at her meaningfully. “But will you always want to be a companion to the Duchess?”
“Perhaps not always,” Evelyn said. “But she is kindly, and I do enjoy being with her and giving her company. I’m not quite sure what I want to do. So much of my time and attention was taken up with John, and before that with taking care of my brothers and sisters.”
“Did you go directly from your parents’ home into marriage?” Mayson asked.
“I did. That is not to say I did not know about work. As I had explained to you before, we all had to work. There were too many of us for mother and father working alone to earn enough to feed us. But once the younger ones were old enough to help keep the house, I worked in Father’s shop. That is how I met John.”
She looked out across the wide stream. It was low now, and Mayson had lit the smudges at the corners of the picnic platform. Smoke drifted from them, making the bits of green moss growing at the edges and eddies of the water appear hazy, perhaps even a little unreal. The inevitable midges danced in little patterns over the water. She turned back to Mayson. “I don’t believe I have ever considered what I want. There was always someone who needed me.”
“Then perhaps it is time that you should,” Mayson said. “I would be glad to help you realize your dreams.”
“And I, yours,” Evelyn replied. “I wonder if you should apply to the Duke for his assistance in your situation?”
“Considering that his father seemed to turn an avaricious eye toward Hillsworth, I am not certain that would be a good idea,” Mayson replied. “I know of a magistrate who was an officer when I was in France, and I believe I shall go to him for help.”
“That seems reasonable
,” Evelyn said. “It is always good to have friends in high places.”
“I would not say that he was so highly placed,” Mayson replied. “But perhaps advantageously placed. His advice will be valuable.”
Evelyn digested that, once again looking out across the water.
“Are you hungry?” Mayson asked. “We have not even unpacked the picnic basket.”
“So we have not,” Evelyn said. “What surprises have you packed this time?”
“I have been too busy training Jemmy to spend much time on our picnic,” Mayson replied. “But I think I have something that you will enjoy.”
Before I Was Yours, My Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 12
