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“You can’t stay here alone,” he interrupted. The thought of her curled up in a nest of bedding was all too vivid.
“I’m not alone. I have Kitty.”
“And she is what, fifteen?”
“Sixteen,” said the skinny young maid, who had not effaced herself but loitered in the open doorway of the house, watching them with frank curiosity.
“And a manservant.” When he made a show of looking around the empty garden, Miss Pendleton added, “He’s on the way with my furnishings.”
“Furnishings. Really.” She spoke as if her bits and pieces belonged in the Prince Regent’s palace.
“Nothing worthy of aviscount, perhaps. But we shall be very comfortable.” She rose and joined her servant at the top of the low steps, a clear signal that he was to depart. Daniel enjoyed ignoring it.
“I told you I can’t cook, miss,” said the maid.
Miss Pendleton’s lips tightened. They were beautifully sculpted lips, Daniel noticed. Rather full and vivid for a sylph. “Ican,” she said.
Daniel suspected it was a lie. Or no, she didn’t feel like a liar. Twisty but not deceptive. An exaggeration, rather. “What are you going to do here?” he asked. “This place isn’t fit for habitation, and there’s no room for a staff.” He’d wager a significant sum that she’d grown up with a cook and butler and all the rest.
“There’s no need for you to concern yourself,” she said with the condescension of a duchess. She looked pointedly at his horse.
That’s me put in my place, Daniel thought. He discovered he was more amused than offended. On top of being frustrated, he was so very tired of not knowing the things he needed to know.
“Do you think the gentleman might see about the spiders?” asked Kitty the maid.
Daniel was beginning to like this girl. “Happy to,” he replied before Miss Pendleton could object. “I’ll send over some fresh firewood, too. Uninfested.”
“You needn’t bother.”
“Oh, I insist. It’s only neighborly.” Following Kitty around the house, Daniel vowed he was going to do far more than that, though he didn’t intend to say so. But he couldn’t let this mysterious newcomer get sicker. He had to find out first why his father had left her a house.
Two
Penelope was chagrined when the wagon from Frithgerd Hall showed up early the following morning, and three determined women equipped with brooms, mops, buckets, and rags marched into her house, informing her that “my lord” had sent them. She was to have no say in this plan, apparently. But when they spread out and began to clean the place from top to bottom, she had to admit she was overcome with gratitude.
The night had left her exhausted. The dust in Rose Cottage had exacerbated her cough. Her pile of quilts had done little to soften the hard floor, and she’d barely slept. Instead, she’d lain there going over and over the magnitude of the task before her. She knew how toruna household; personally performing the many tasks involved was another matter. Baking the bread, for example. She’d never acquired that skill. Milking a cow—should she acquire a cow? And chickens. Those who wanted roast chicken needed to dispatch the birds. Would Kitty find the idea repulsive or grimly fascinating?
Penelope could—and would—learn, of course. But in the empty night, the long list of things that needed to be done had seemed overwhelming. So, when her offers to help clean were set firmly aside, she’d let herself be herded out to the garden wall to sit for a while in the shade of an apple tree.
Kitty flitted in and out of the open front door, keeping Penelope apprised of their progress. The young maid was delighted with the company and worked harder with the helpers from Frithgerd than she would have on her own. It was clear that she’d soon have fast friends in the neighborhood. Penelope envied her.
Around eleven, the eldest of her benefactors brought Penelope a cup of tea and a ham sandwich. “I would have made that for you,” Penelope said. Shehadpacked the tea—with cups and a pot and a small saucepan—in her food hamper. As if she was going on a picnic, Penelope thought wryly. While she’d forgotten a broom.
“No need, miss,” was the reply. The woman turned away.
“Won’t you get a cup for yourself and sit a moment, Mrs. Darnell?” Penelope had been informed that this lady—clearly the supervisor of the expedition—was the gatekeeper’s wife at Frithgerd.
Ruddy, round-faced Mrs. Darnell hesitated. “I should be getting back to work.” But she couldn’t hide her curiosity.
“I wanted to ask if you might know people who live nearby and are looking for work.” Penelope smiled up at the older woman. “Not to live in. No room for that.” She gestured at the small house. “But to come days. I’d like to find a gardener. And perhaps a part-time cook.”
Mrs. Darnell thought about this. “I expect I might know of someone.”
“And is there a farm where I could buy milk and eggs?” And the occasional chicken, Penelope thought. She’d decided against keeping chickens. Or a pig; she wouldn’t have a pig.
“The Mattisons up the road there.” Mrs. Darnell pointed at the lane. “Young Kitty could walk it easy.”
“Oh, good. I suppose it’s safe for her to do so?”
