ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Garbed in a simple gown of shimmering pink satin with a soft collar of creamy lace and sleeves that were slashed and lined with the same fabric, Maurette descended the staircase leading into the great hall. She had informed Jonathan, through Kitty, that she wished him to meet her there.

"There is much to see, Jonathan," she said, greeting him with a bright smile as she passed in front of him. "'Twould be best, I think, if we begin in the withdrawing room," she said and started down the short gallery that led to the "coziest room in the house." "I hope that you have brought quill and paper," she said over her shoulder as she bounced brightly down the passage.

Jonathan pursed his lips and arched a thin eyebrow in the direction of Maurette's slender back.

"This room is to be cleaned from ceiling to floor," Maurette said as she entered the chamber. She indicated the thick black soot that clung to the stone surrounding the fireplace. "I do not know how you will do it, but I shall wager you shall needs dig through four centuries of filth to uncover the true beauty of this hearth.

"Also, these books must be taken down and dusted, Jonathan. Books are a proud possession of any house- hold. They should be ~ and well taken care of," she said, choosing her words so that the servant would realize their importance. "They are to be individually cleaned, do you understand?"

The man nodded resignedly as Maurette moved about the room like a small whirlwind, pointing out a necessary task to be undertaken here and another there.

When they left the chamber to head for the family dining room, Maurette was thankful to be quit of the withdrawing room. She had deliberately avoided any mention of the family coat of arms and prayed that she could somehow convince Dominic to have it removed. She would need to tread carefully on that score, however. At least the chamber would be cleaned, and for the moment it was enough.

Maurette stood in the center of the dining hall. "The food served in this room is fine enough to honor any house, but the room itself demands a thorough cleaning." Maurette shuddered as she traced a finger over the sideboard. "How long since a cloth has been applied to this wood?" she asked rhetorically and added, "All the furniture could do with a good coating of beeswax. This is fine good furniture, and the beeswax will heighten its luster as well as cleaning it. And it smells pretty," she said, smiling brightly. "Also a few hangings would be in order for this room. We must hire a weaver from London." She turned and left the room. With what Jonathan considered to be excessive speed, they traveled down another passage.

There was much to observe and to comment upon as the two passed along dim galleries and through high-ceilinged chambers.

Thick walls of gray ash rose to heights of thirty feet or more. Vaulted ceilings, which towered far above, were domed and rich in architectural detail. Staring upward at one particularly arresting group of carved timbers, Maurette lost her balance and decided that she would save her perusal of the castle's ceilings for another time. She smiled sheepishly as Jonathan reached out to steady her.

"Thank you, dear Jonathan," she said gently and then moved on.

She commented on things that needed doing as they passed. Everywhere she looked, from the smoky torch-lit galleries to the richly appointed privy rooms, Maurette encountered centuries of dust and grime. Massive window embrasures, she told Jonathan, must be fitted with glass. Though Maurette appreciated the morning air and sunlight that wafted through the apertures, she knew that, come winter, the castle would be much warmer for the insulation. The embrasures themselves needed to be swept, Maurette pointed out. She looked with disgust at posterns hung with spiders' webs and broad shallow buttresses covered with oils from burning wood. The stuff clung to everything like a thick black mantle.

Jonathan wrote furiously as Maurette swiped her fingertips over filthy horizontal timbers and leaned into dusty embrasures.

"It will take at least the year of my contract with Dominic to get this job done," she moaned as they continued their tour. Maurette intended to supervise this whole project herself, and she became weary at the mere thought of it.

At one window Maurette leaned into the embrasure and bade Jonathan to rest. The old man slid gratefully onto a low bench along the wall. "Thank you, my lady," he said weakly and pulled out a soft square of cloth with which he swiped at his forehead.

Maurette could see through the opening in the thick walls of the castle the deep blue of a clear autumnal sky. It was the first day in weeks that it had not rained. Maurette stretched and peeked out over the thick sill. Directly below them, and much to Maurette's amazement and delight, she saw a small privy garden.

"Who's garden is that, Jonathan?" Maurette inquired.

"I haven't the faintest, my lady," said Jonathan- as he rose and squeezed into the embrasure with Maurette "It may be the garden where Lady Hamilton amuses herself with her roses," he said vaguely.

"Lydia's garden?" said Maurette.

Jonathan nodded and winced at Maurette's familiarity in referring to the chatelaine. He drew himself from the embrasure, and, his rest over, he stood awaiting Maurette's next order. "Is it your intention to continue the tour, my lady?" he said stiffly.

Maurette traced an idle finger in the dust on the sill. "I should like very much to have a garden of my own in the spring. I could, perhaps, plant some rosebushes."

Maurette had come to the realization of just how gloomy and lackluster her existence was here at Ravenshead. She would naturally continue to teach Kitty, and that was a most rewarding task, but Maurette longed to be active at every moment. Right now she wanted nothing more than to be strolling in the fresh breezy October air.

Jonathan cleared his throat and repeated his question. Maurette glanced around and realized that she was neglecting her self-imposed assignment and keeping Jonathan at a standstill as well. She straightened and turned her attention back to their work.

"I suggest carpeting in all the galleries, and if that cannot be done readily, please see that at the very least new rushes are laid. The present ones are filthy. I must also insist that all the torches be replaced with brass sconces. Tapers are so much cleaner than torches, and their light is so much more refined. We needn't live like old-time serfs, you know," she said sternly.

Jonathan cleared his throat. He had stopped writing and was eyeing her stiffly.

"Is there a problem, Jonathan?"

"There is, my 'lady," be said. Setting his shoulders rigid. He lifted his chin in what Maurette recognized as her own gesture of defiance.

"What is it then?" she asked kindly. Maurette understood that, when she made that gesture, it was usually because she felt unsure of herself and afraid. She could not imagine such insecurity in the resolute Jonathan, but somehow she felt an empathy with the haughty servant.

"The expense, my lady," he said, swallowing.

"Expense?" Maurette asked. She could not imagine to what Jonathan was referring. Dominic was, after all, a wealthy man. Money could have no bearing upon her judgment of what needed to be done within the household.

"The household budget," Jonathan said, swallowing again, "is the domain of Lady Hamilton, and she permits no expenditures without her supervision."

Maurette breathed a long sigh. "Is that all, Jonathan?" she said. "But surely Lydia will approve my suggestions. They are all legitimate improvements. I cannot imagine why she has not acted on these things herself."

"I couldn't say, my lady," Jonathan returned when he realized that an answer was required of him.

"Well," Maurette said determinedly, "I shall speak to Lady Hamilton myself. In any event, Jonathan, do not stop writing." Maurette turned to continue their tour and then hesitated. Looking back at Jonathan, she asked uncertainly, "When did you last speak to your mistress on this subject?"

"Last evening, my lady. Lady Hamilton came to me and told me that no expenditure was to be permitted where you are concerned." He looked down on Maurette with sympathy. Her slender shoulders seemed to bear the weight of this new information.

Then Maurette twirled on her heel and marched stiffly down the passageway, with Jonathan following and taking of all that she said and of the prideful way that she heel herself. She was, perhaps taunted by Lady Hamilton's slight, but surly not broken. Jonathan allowed himself a small smile at the spirited determination of the young lady. He would give a great deal to be present at her meeting with Lady Hamilton.

"I wish to see the kitchen," Maurette said when they had finally made their way around the bottom level of the castle.

Jonathan directed her to a large arched doorway at the end of the passage.

"I shall attend myself here," said Maurette. "Please advise Lady Hamilton that I would see her in my chamber in one hour."

Jonathan nodded and turned to carry out the order.

"And Jonathan?"

He turned back, and Maurette smiled.

"This has been a most pleasant morning," she said fondly. "'Twas not the most pleasant of tasks, but your companionship has made it bearable." She turned then and disappeared into the kitchen.

Jonathan lingered for a long moment, looking after the lady. He felt his cheeks redden at her words. He offered a silent prayer that she was as strong as she was determined. Lydia was not a woman who took kindly to determination.

As lost in grime and lack of attention as the rest, of the castle was, the kitchen was a pleasant surprise for Maurette. She watched delightedly the activities in this bright bustling room. One reason for the room's brightness, she discovered, was. the fact that one wall was almost completely open to the outside. A young man passed her, carrying a wooden crate filled with small flapping woodcock. She asked him about the open wall.

"That opens to the mantle, m'um," he explained. winter it'll be covered wi' cloth so's we don't freeze." He smiled and nodded a friendly farewell as he hustled off with, his burden.

Maurette reveled in the sunlight and fresh air that poured into the kitchen. She stepped further into the room, and her presence became an object of curiosity among the servants. One young kitchen maid approached her shyly, wiping her hands on a long white apron and offered a friendly curtsy. She remembered how kind Maurette had been on her arrival, and now that they were, in the girl's territory, she wished to return the kindness. No one could imagine why such a grand lady was in the kitchen, and the happy chatter that had greeted her had ceased.

"Could we get y' somethin', my lady?" said the girl softly. Maurette could well imagine the perplexity of the servants.

"I should like to watch you work, if I may," said Maurette.

The young kitchen girl cocked her head "Watch, m'um?"

"May I?"

The girl took hold of her puzzlement. "0' course, m'um," she said with a broad smile. "No reason why not, m'um. I be Moll, m'um. If ye've any questions, y' jus' holler fer me."

She dipped another curtsy and then bobbed off to continue her chores. The smile on her face and haughty glances toward the other servants bespoke her pride at being the first to approach the Lady Maurette and anticipate her need. She watched Maurette's progress around the busy kitchen with a proprietary regard. If a question needed answering, she would be there in an instant.

Maurette, genuinely touched by the girl's solicitude, decided that, at some point in her tour of the kitchen, she would most definitely think of a question.

One old servant was kneading dough while another ground corn for meal. One young woman was bent low over a large fish that lay on a long pitted trestle table.

"May I watch?" Maurette inquired.

The woman regarded her with a cocked eyebrow. "Can't imagine ye'r wantin' to," she said with a smile, "but if ye c'n stand it, I'm sure I c'n." She reached her hand into the opening she had made in the fish's maw and drew out a handful of slimy innards. Flinging the mass to a large pot nearby, she graced Maurette with a sly grin.

"That will be a fish stock, I should imagine," Maurette ventured tranquilly. Her clenched smile hid an equally clenching stomach.

"Aye," said the woman, " 'twould be that." She continued with the delicate work of boning the creature. Maurette moved to a little boy who stood at another section of the table cleaning eggs.

"You had a very important job, young sir," said Maurette, as the lad flushed beneath her scrutiny. "I cannot imagine eating eggs from a dirty shell. Oh, my, no." Maurette shuddered.

"That's me job, Y'r Ladyship," the boy said proudly, smiling shyly up at her, "cleanin' th' chicken filth that might end up in y'r breakfast."

The young woman who was cleaning the fish eyed the lad sharply. "Dickie," she scolded, "Such talk before Her Ladyship is unseemly."

Maurette only laughed. "This is a busy kitchen, mistress," she said.

"Aye, my lady, 'tis that."

"How many do you feed?"

The young woman eyed Maurette for a long moment. Then, with a loud crack, she chopped the fish's head off and flung it into the pot. "Got no idea, m'um," she said curtly. Another sharp crack of the woman's long cleaver saw the fish's tail rendered from its body and delivered to the pot.

"I just wondered how many were in residence here…"

"Got no idea, m'um," the woman repeated tonelessly.

Maurette tried another tack. "Is that to be our dinner?" she said, indicating the kettle that the young woman was now placing over the fire.

"Don't know, m'um. I ain't th' cook as y' know."

"Oh yes, I met Mistress Gwynn. Then she decided the menu?"

"Wi' th' approval o' Henry, o' course. An' nothin' happens here wi'out Lady Hamilton knowin' it. Nothin' happens anywhere at Ravenshead wi'out Lady Hamilton knowin' it." The woman caught Maurette in a hooded gaze. "Lady Hamilton is the mistress here."

"Of course," Maurette said evenly and managed a pleasant nod, but she was crestfallen. It was the second time that she had been told, in no uncertain terms, that she was nothing more than a guest in Lydia's house. Maurette suddenly felt small and useless in the bustling kitchen.

She backed slowly toward the stairs, a stain of color rising in her cheeks. She managed a polite smile as a servant carrying a load of wood bumped into her and apologized. How could she ever have imagined that she would have any sway in the running of this huge estate? She turned and fled from the room. In her blind rush, she crashed into Jonathan, who was flung by the force of her momentum into the stone wall.

"Forgive me, Your Ladyship," he said as he adjusted and dusted at his immaculate livery. "I came to deliver a message from Lady Hamilton. I was not watching where I was going."

"Oh, don't be stupid, Jonathan. Of course, you were watching where you were going. You always watch where you are going. The fault was entirely mine." Maurette's wide eyes were fevered with agitation.

"Of course, my lady," Jonathan said vaguely. He stiffened at the onslaught of her puzzling outburst.

"You and Lady Hamilton and Lord Warbrooke and Doctor Tremain and Geoff and Kit all know exactly where you are going. Even young Dick who cleans eggs in the kitchen knows exactly why he is here. 'Tis I, Jonathan," she said, pointing wildly to herself, "who has no idea of her purpose." Unbelievably, tears popped into her lovely eyes. "I should clean an egg or bone a slimy fish or transport a crate of woodcock. At least then I would have some sense of my worth." She turned abruptly and continued her mad dash down the dimly lit passage.

Jonathan watched her flight in utter disbelief. Such emotionalism was not part of his experience in life. He had no idea how he should feel toward this outburst. He shrugged reflectively. One thing seemed certain; he would never felt indifference toward the fiery lass. He watched a froth of pink satin skirts rounding a corner and sighed deeply. This household was destined for a change, he thought, and allowed himself a small smile. Carefully straightening his livery once more, he eschewed his softened demeanor and solemnly entered the kitchen.