The Flight by Karen Blayne

Oh by the way red tape first.

Be warned these short stories contain mature content or naughty bits and as such may corrupt you if you’re under 12, 16, 18, 21 or 25 depending where you live thus they are not suitable for you so put them back on the shelf and let them age for a year or two.

They were sort of scribbled for fun and copyright is retained by the author. ©2018

At the Black Horse Jem stood by the open door waiting for his supper to be served from the kitchen. “Well it’s all settled then I get half her inheritance and you the other half. I’ve asked the vicar to call in the morning. You’ve the special license and the drug so Lady Jennifer will be compliant. I’ll get back to the house now and expect to see you in the morning.” Jem stepped back into the shadows. Lady Jennifer, she was so far above him but he’d give his life to protect her but how.

“Groom!” came the call from the yard. He recognised the coach. Mr. Panter, he’d have his dinner then be off into the night. Jem ran all the way to the big house and spoke to his cousin Joane. “She’s to come away now with me. We have to be back at the inn within thirty minutes never mind why.” Joane slipped up the back stairs she hesitated at the door then slipped in. “My lady my cousin Jem wants you to flee with him immediately.” Lady Jennifer looked up. “Is he mad?” “No but I think you should. I heard the vicar has been asked to call tomorrow morning on the occasion of your twelfth birthday.” Lady Jennifer went white. “Quickly I need to disappear.” She picked out her plainest gown, cloak and what money she had lying around together they slipped down the servant’s stairs and into the night. Jem was waiting for her. Later Joane crept back into Lady Jennifer’s room and mussed up the bed so it looked as if she’d slept in it.

“You’re to be wed tomorrow morning if you stay here.” “Where can I go?” “Leave it up to me.” They scurried back to the inn where Mr. Panter was just settling his bill. “Bill she needs to disappear.” Bill nodded Jem was a second cousin “Up you go with the coachman.” Moments later Mr. Planter climbed into the coach and they were away into the night. Bill motioned her to stay quiet. It was coming up to daybreak when they paused to change horses at yet another inn. “Last change before we get home and you’re near to a hundred miles away. If you head through the gap in the hedge across the fields about five miles towards the spire in the distance there’s a big house where you might find work. Let’s be clear I haven’t seen you and you haven’t seen me.” Lady Jennifer slipped away into the night.

Next morning Lady Jennifer’s uncle called for her to attend him but the maid was unable to find her. He spoke to her governess. “Where is the girl?” “Well sometimes she goes out for a walk before breakfast. She isn’t due to start her lessons until nine Sir.” By eleven it was obvious that she’d somehow disappeared but where? Men were sent to search the estate. Others dispatched to the inn to see if she’d caught a coach anywhere. The maid who looked after her swore an oath she knew nothing. “Relax she’ll turn up and if she doesn’t well after seven years you can declare her dead anyway and get your hands on the money.”

The second day they sent Mr. Barker’s trusted personal servant out down the main highways to offer a reward of fifty guineas for information leading to her recovery.

A new name, she’d always liked the name of Meryl so Meryl she would become. She knocked at the door. “My name is Meryl and I’m looking for work.” The housekeeper’s head turned what an odd way to say it rather than the more usual ‘I’m Meryl. Got any work?’. She looked down at her shoes. Good quality as was her dress. “Come in and we’ll speak to the master.” She led the way into the library. “Excuse me sir but I have a young girl looking for work.” Brent looked up. Mrs. Foster usually looked after such things herself. He looked up with interest to see what it was about this young girl. She couldn’t be more than twelve, the shoes struck him first then the fact she didn’t look underweight. “Three at 13 and eightpence?” he threw at her. “Two pounds” came back the reply. Interesting she’d been taught her sums then. “A week’s trial Mrs. Foster. She can have the old nursery to sleep in and send her back in after she’s been fed in the kitchens.” “Come this way.” Mrs. Foster led the way to the top of the house. “Unpack your things then come down to the kitchen for a bite to eat.” Jennifer unpacked and looked round. A better room than her servants had and no one to share with either. She hadn’t looked forward to sharing a bed with another maid.

“The Reverend is here calling.” “Best show him in and have tea sent in but nowt to eat.” The Vicar was shown into Brent’s library. “What can I do for you reverend?” “Well as owner of the largest estate around here I feel it’s up to you to set an example to the locals and attend services.” “Well I could arrange something if you feel strongly about it. I’m chapel myself so where do you suggest I build one? Sara could you pour out a cup of tea for me and the reverend?” Sara curtsied and poured out two cups of tea. There was no milk or sugar available. Brent picked his up and took a small sip watching the reverend try to decide whether he should suffer or ask for cream. “When the Baron lived here his cook prepared the most delicious snacks that were served with tea.” “Well unfortunately he’s moved away and his cook has left as well.” “I heard you have a French chef?” “Well with the war on one has to find work for the unfortunate refugees.” Sara stood back behind the Reverend and tried to keep a straight face. “Is he any good?” “All my staff are without exception excellent workers. Now is there anything else you wish to discuss?” The reverend accepted he wasn’t going to get an invitation to dine as he’d been hoping. In fact all the local gentry had been debating whether to accept the newcomer’s invitation to dine hoping to sample the new French chef’s cooking. He made his money in trade they say trying to imply that they wouldn’t have accepted an invitation even if one had been sent. Sara saw the reverend out which upset his dignity not even a man servant to show him out. When she returned, she looked at him. “Well out with it.” “He was expecting an invitation to dine you know.” “So I gathered.” “And if you want to keep on his best side he likes a slice of cake and cream in his tea.” Brent looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll remember that if ever I need to get on his best side. Does he have one?” Sara was shocked by the idea and gave a small curtsey as she left. Still one good thing about them that got their money from trade they spent it on staff wages, she knew for a fact that his chef was paid a very fancy wage indeed.

Downstairs Brent and Mrs. Foster held a council of war. “She’s quality and no mistake.” “True some sort of runaway do you think?” “Almost certainly.” “I’m sure we’ll find out more within a week.” “Well she’s safer off here than on the streets that’s for sure.” Brent went back to his books. When Meryl joined him he drew out a chair at a second desk and had her total up the ledgers. When she’d finished he passed her a stack of invoices to be entered and bade her enter them. Interesting she could both read and write as well as do sums.

On Saturday morning one of the stable hands spoke to him. “Last night down the pub some foreigner was offering fifty guineas for news of a runaway twelve-year old girl.” “You told him nothing?” “None of us would to the likes of him.” “Thank you Henry.” He sort out Mrs. Foster. “Well it seems someone from some distance away is offering fifty guineas for news of a runaway twelve-year old girl.” “So it could be ours you think?” “If I was certain I’d have to send her back wouldn’t I?” “Why fifty guineas for a twelve-year old girl?” “A twelve-year old heiress could be married for her dowery.” “Married but she’s only a child.” “Your niece always wanted to be a lady’s maid didn’t she?” “Agnes, true enough.” “Meryl could teach her.” “I’ll have her come up to the house.” “Oh and while I think about it Meryl had better look after the kitchen whilst the rest of you are at church tomorrow. The fewer that know she’s here the better.” “I’ll spread the word amongst the family.”

“Meryl, the master is a nonconformist so doesn’t attend church. As staff you may attend if you wish or not and keep your religious matters private. The master leads prayers on a Sunday evening for those who wish to pray together.” Well it would mean she’d stay out of public view and as long as she prayed God would find her.

He’d always thought that having a few contacts in the aristocracy might be useful to influence the government. He’d see just how bright one of them was, if nothing else one of them at least would be trained in something other than the latest fashion and then turned loose on the ton. They’d never know what hit them. He’d do it.

“Right young Meryl sign here and you’re hired as an apprentice until you become of age.” A job and safety, Meryl signed. “Now the first job I’d like you to do is learn how to supervise staff.” Meryl looked taken back a twelve-year old being asked to supervise? The door behind her opened and Mrs. Foster entered with Agnes. “Agnes wants to become a lady’s maid so you’ll teach her what she needs to know. Effectively she will become your lady’s maid.” Agnes blinked and so did Meryl. “Off you go the pair of you and sort yourselves out.” Meryl led the way to the old nursery and racked her brains trying to remember what her mother’s lady’s maid did. They talked about Agnes’s duties and Meryl decided the first thing was that Agnes should learn to speak the king’s English rather than the local dialect.

Brent had his senior staff into his library. “Young Meryl seems bright but I’m interested in seeing just how bright she is. I’ve no idea how you teach a young mind but she’ll be with us for the next nine years which gives us time to train her in everything you can think of. Marc she probably speaks French so when she’s in the kitchen address her in French and see if she responds correctly. If she does I suggest an hour each afternoon practising her French but also learning how a kitchen works. Garrick she probably knows how to ride so use her to exercise the horses in breeches at daybreak, I want her finished before nine at the latest so she won’t run into anyone. Mrs. Foster how to run the house. Not all at once mind you and since she’s only twelve she’ll need time to relax and play as well.”

“Henry I’m thinking that there will be an excellent governess let go over this run away business. Take this purse and a string of horses and collect her. I dare say she can ride. Deliver her with this letter to Tobias down in Plymouth but do it quietly.” Henry nodded.

Agnes shook Meryl awake. “You’re wanted in the stables. I’ve found a pair of breeches that should fit.” “It’s barely light outside.” “So your presence is required in the stables. You can have a bite to eat afterwards.” Meryl half awake stumbled down to the stables to be met by Garrick. “We’re short handed this morning Henry’s gone off on some errand or other and we need to exercise a few horses. So take your pick.” Meryl looked them over and chose one of the best mounts. “You sure you can handle him?” “Pass me a slice of apple so we can make friends but he looks fine to me.” Garrick lifted the heavy saddle onto the horse’s back as Meryl correctly put the bridle on him. He saddled up a second horse for himself and together they walked them out of the stable yard. Meryl felt the animal between her legs and gently nudged him towards the field. Garrick watched her from behind ready to come to the rescue but she seemed steady enough. “Right take him up to the stand of oaks in the distance.” Meryl used her knees to command her mount to first trot then to move into a canter. She felt invigorated by the feeling of power beneath her. He was much more powerful than her old mare. Garrick had seen enough to know she was competent so took his mount to a gallop and dashed past her. Meryl threw herself forward and whispered to her mount, “Show him boy.” And then they flew across the field, her light weight giving her enough advantage to pass Garrick and reach the stand of Oaks first. “Oh he’s a delight to ride.” “We’ll go back and take a couple of hedges on the way back. I take it you’ve jumped before?” “Once or twice.”

When they reached the stable Meryl was told to first walk him whilst he cooled down then to curry him before she was allowed her breakfast. “Well?” Asked Brent. “My guess is she’s been brought up on horses. She rides well and knows enough to get friendly with them first. She’ll do until Henry gets back.”

After Meryl had broken her fast, she was ushered into Brent’s study and given more invoices to enter in the ledgers. She paused at one “This one is the same as one I just entered.” Brent took a look. Good she’d spotted the duplicate he’d slipped in the pile. “Just put the second one to one side and I’ll sort it out later.”

The next evening Henry arrived at the Black Horse and spoke quietly to Jem. “I hear the big house is close to firing a governess.” “Aye.” “I’ve been asked to find one.” “Aye.” Henry thought he’d said enough and sat quietly in the public bar passing the time of day with the workers buying the odd round of drinks, not every round but slightly more than his fair share. Jem slid in besides him. “Is she safe?” “Aye.” Henry grinned back. “Miss Gogley is due to catch the nine o’clock stage in the morning so she’ll be along about eight o’clock.” “Aye.”

The next morning Miss Frances Gogley was dropped off at the inn by a groom who turned round and returned to the big house. She stepped towards the inn door but was intercepted by Jem. “This way Miss.” “Is this the one?” Henry asked Jem. Jem nodded. “Right Miss you’re wanted for a post down Plymouth way. I’ve a purse to get you there. Either by coach or I have a couple of horses if you can ride which would be faster and you get to keep the coach fare.” “I can’t ride sidesaddle all the way to Plymouth and I haven’t a riding habit.” Henry pulled out a skirt from the bag he was carrying “Best put that on then.” Fanny held out the odd looking divided skirt then took herself off round the corner of an empty stall to change. “What about my belongings?” “We’ll use the horses we aren’t riding as baggage animals on a lead.” “Best lead the horses up the back track then across country for ten minutes or so to save talk.” Interrupted Jem.

Away from the inn they rode at a trot so as to save the horses. After two hours in the saddle they switched horses. Fanny felt tired but didn’t complain. Just after noon Henry brought them to a halt. “There’s a stream to water the horses here and we’ll stop for a bite to eat.” It was the horses that got fed first from feed bags that the baggage horses had been carrying. Frances felt a bit indignant about that. After a meal of bread and cheese they continued on their way. Fanny asked why she’d been given a different horse to the ones she’d been riding that morning. “I ride heavier than you so if we switch mounts around it’s better for the horses.” Fanny’s thoughts about the bloody horses were unladylike.

That afternoon they stopped in at a farm house where Henry brought more feed for the horses. As an afterthought after looking at a weary Fanny he asked if they might buy some hot food. They ate at the kitchen table. “Well we’d best be off to make the most of the daylight.” Fanny cringed but got up anyway. At dusk Henry looked round “We could camp down by the stream.” All Fanny could think of was the wonderful idea of dismounting. Henry spread a ground sheet out and Fanny collapsed on to it. Snuggling under the blanket tossed towards her. By the time Henry had seen to the horses she was fast asleep.

As the third day was drawing to a close Henry pulled up outside a detached house and dismounted. He helped a very dishevelled Fanny off her horse. Then left her standing whilst he tied the horses to the railings. Together they mounted the steps and Henry knocked on the door. “Henry what a surprise and who do you have with you?” “Your new governess.” Fanny had this feeling she should have smartened herself up first. “Was I expecting one? But what am I saying you poor dear how far have you come?” “We did it in three days, sixty miles a day.” Announced Henry proudly. “Oh Henry you didn’t, not with a governess. She’s not one of your army troopers for heavens’ sake. Now let’s get you up to a guest room and let you have a bath. An hour in a feather bed and fresh clothes and you might begin to feel human again. Dinner is in two hours time.” Henry slipped her a purse as she eased her way through the door.

Fanny counted out the coins in the purse in satisfaction. It was almost worth the three days of torture. She mentally swore she never wanted to see another horse again ever in all the days of her life.

“Come in and sit down. These are my two and their father promises if you manage to coax them into running away before he has to pay for the wedding he’ll pay you half the cost of the wedding.” Fanny smiled weakly. At least they knew. “Did your last charge really run away from home?” “Sally your new governess is tough so no misbehaving. She rode for three long days and kept up with Henry on a string of horses.” “Golly.” Fanny could hear the awe in her voice.

Meryl was in the kitchen helping out when Marc asked her to pass the saucepan in French. “Oui Monsieur.” She responded passing him the saucepan then felt suddenly sick. Maids weren’t supposed to know French. Odd no one commented and she carried on quietly. It was only when Marc commanded her presence in French at four o’clock each afternoon to help prepare the evening meal that she realised it had not gone unnoticed.

Henry reported back to Brent. “There’s a stable lad at the inn up there that looks bright and I suspect he might know summat about Lady Jennifer’s flight.” “He might let something slip?” “Depending who asks the questions and how.” “Better Paul rides up there and deals with him than yourself. Twice up there and someone might put one and one together. Manchester I think?”

Paul left the pair of horses at a nearby farm then walked up to the inn across the fields. “Jem?” “Aye.” “It’s thought best you disappear lad so there is an apprenticeship in Manchester for you.” “Doing what?” “Your choice I reckon but blacksmithing if you’ve a mind to work with horses but we leave today.” “Apprentice blacksmith you say just like that. I’ve never heard the like.” “No and you’ll keep quite about it if you please. You’ll be found board and lodging and your apprenticeship is paid for.” Jem took quiet leave of his family and arranged for his brother to take up his duties at the inn. “I’ve been offered work but it’s some distance away.” Paul pulled out a small purse. “It’s honest work and I’ll leave you this. It might be some time before you see your son again.”

In Manchester Jem was introduced to the work’s blacksmith. “Right lad I’ll teach you the more general side then the farrier will show you the more specialised side with horses since that’s what I understand you prefer.”

The poor girl looked shattered. “How are you surviving?” Brent asked. “Surviving is the word sir.” “Forget the sir. Are they treating you with kindness?” “It’s not the lack of kindness, it’s all the different things I have to do. I’m sure no other maid has to exercise the horses at daybreak, spend an hour or two speaking French and helping in the kitchen. Plus I have to teach Agnes to be a ladies maid. She didn’t know how to read nor write so I’m teaching her in the nursery. Then Mrs. Foster is teaching me how the house runs besides doing your ledgers. Am I suppose to get a half day off sometime?” He opened his arms and bade her sit in his lap. “For the moment you’re in training so we want to find out all you are capable of. When you’ve finished then we’ll think about a half day off.” She glared at him like a hostile kitten. “Nine years before I get a half day off?” He smiled at her and she felt comforted and safe with his arm wrapped round her. “Is exercising the horses too much for you?” “No I like being with them and Marc is amusing, I enjoy working with him. It’s the feeling I don’t have enough for Agnes to do to keep her busy and I might make a mistake with the ledgers.” “I think you’re doing fine.” He reassured her. “I’ll have you take your dinner with me that way I can see how you’re doing and it will give Agnes another gown or two to look after. Now I need to take a run down to London Town tomorrow so you and Agnes will come with me. We’ll leave at daybreak so as to reach my town house by nightfall so go to bed early.” She nodded. London still with luck no one would recognise her.

Next morning a sleepy groom woke her and Agnes up. “Breakfast is being served in the kitchen.” They had their bacon and eggs and a mug of tea before climbing into the light travelling coach to join Brent and Paul another driver from the stables just as the day was breaking. They wrapped themselves up in rugs and gently dozed. Henry set off with his team of four. Other teams had already been sent on in advance or arrangements had been made with other merchants to borrow their teams for a stage. With good cattle he expected to reach London by the end of the day.

They barely stopped on the way, just long enough to change teams and drivers at each stage. It was growing dark by the time they reached London but at Brent’s town house the staff were waiting for them with a hot meal already prepared. Next morning early Brent took them to a fabric warehouse and left them to look over the material available. “Mrs. Foster was saying we need new curtains for the drawing room so pick something out. Matthew will show you the ends of bolts we have lying around if any take your fancy we’ll bring them back with us. Now I have some business meetings to attend so Matthew will look after you.” “How much can I spend?” “Matthew will sort you out.” Meryl turned to Matthew as Brent left through the door. “He owns the place so pick out whatever you like. The remnants are over here but if there is something else you’d like I’m sure it will be acceptable.” Agnes eyes lit up, so much choice. “This one would make up a nice evening gown for you.” “Do I need an evening gown?” “If you’re dining with himself certainly and I need to know how to look after them.”

That afternoon she accompanied him to the docks where she could see for herself the stocks in the warehouse that the ledgers represented. One of the young clerks took her on a tour of the premises and explained how goods were ordered for aboard then when the ships came in how they were dispatched. “Of course the big problem is will the merchandise come in when we can sell it at the best price. Often we leave it to the captains to buy whatever is available but if we could let them know what is in demand that would be so much better rather than having to sell what we can get.”

That evening she asked Brent if it was the same for estates as shipping. You got the best prices for things in demand. “Well yes but sometimes you need to create the demand.” She looked at him expectantly. “If you have a steady source of raw material then your customers can build the market for you. Imagine what would happen if the silk for lady’s dresses was delayed by three months just before the start of the season.” “No dresses.” “Which means?” “No work for the seamstresses.” “And lower profits for us. So we need dependable supplies.” Meryl looked thoughtful.

Brent told her to read the papers as they came in, not the social columns but the other news. He also passed her his correspondence to read through and they discussed it over dinner. She felt flattered that he would ask her opinion but soon found she had to support it with detailed facts.

“Warn Marc they’ll be five more for dinner.” He rattled off their names. “You won’t want me there then?” Meryl asked hopefully. “Yes I will, there is Mrs. Ainscough as well as Mr. Ainscough so she won’t want to be the only female there.”

“It’s always nice to drop in and be spoilt. I look forward to my dinners here. The view across the fields and the French cuisine are always worth looking forward to. Mr. Ainscough likes his little natter over dinner. He was introduced to buying a fire engine here you know. It makes a difference. We can run the machinery even when the water levels are low these days and it’s nice to be able to talk about those sort of things that men find uninteresting. I think the curtains are new since last time. Did you choose them?” Meryl admitted she had and they had a comfortable cose about domestic matters whilst the men talked business matters around them.

The next day she asked him if the business opportunities were so good why didn’t he just keep them to himself. “Well for every ten two will fail, two will just about cover their costs, four will be profitable and two very profitable and it’s difficult to predict which ones will do what.” “You mean by spreading the risk no one goes bankrupt and on average the projects will show a good profit?” “I always thought you were bright.”

Marc came up to discuss whether Brent was expecting any dinner guests in the next month or so. “I was thinking it might be an idea to have a dance or two so Meryl can practise the steps.” “Let me guess one of your countrymen is looking for work?” “Three musicians.” “They’ll need to double up with other duties.” “I’ll write to them and let them know.”

Brent and his steward were looking over the estate. One of the farms had become vacant. “Who is the best fiddle player around here?” “Matt I suppose.” “Five shillings for him to come to an audition, see Marc for the when and where.” “By the way my daughter is expecting my grandchild.” Brent was suddenly suspicious. “And?” “Well there isn’t really a midwife close at hand.” “Go on.” “The best is a married one who lives seven miles away.” “And you’d thought if she was to move into the vacant farm she’d be handy?” “She could teach young Meryl the tricks of the trade as well.” “Where can I find her?”

He rode over to the cottage with a second horse on a lead where the midwife lived and knocked on the door. He liked the look of the woman who answered the door. “I’m in need of a midwife.” “You don’t look to be in a rush.” “For the estate really, I wondered about offering you the tenancy of one of the farms that has come up.” “You’d best talk to my man.” She called to one of her children to go get their dad who was doing a bit of hedging. “So let’s get this straight. We get the tenancy of the farm. Helen is to be paid a retainer and to have a pony at her disposal. She is train one of your maids in midwifery and help deliver your steward’s grandchild?” Brent smiled. “Well Helen lass think you can do it?” “I’d have to meet the pony and maid first.” Helen smiled. “I have a spare horse so if you don’t mind riding pillion we could go and inspect it now?”

Meryl was helping in the kitchen when Helen arrived after looking over the farm. Mrs. Foster introduced Meryl to Helen and mentioned the steward’s married daughter was expecting. Marc’s ears perked up. “Is she eating well?” Helen looked taken back. “In France it is the custom to ensure mothers to be have the right food before and special food such as liver afterwards to help them recover.” “Meryl you are to work with Helen to ensure the baby is delivered safely. Helen is also to train you in midwifery so you can stand in for her if need be.” Meryl just accepted. “I wonder if there are any books on the subject?” “I suppose there must be.”

They sent off for books on the subject and Marc supervised Gladys’s diet. Mentioning she should have plenty of milk to save her teeth. Helen and Meryl taught relaxation and breathing techniques to Gladys in the months before the birth. The books showed the use of forceps so Brent had a selection sent down from London. Two of each so both would have a set.

Matt arrived for his audition. Since he was the only fiddle player for many a mile he wondered what all the fuss was about. He was led through to the music room and asked to play in front of a semi circle of chairs. He started with one of his most popular pieces only to be interrupted after a few bars “Non!” He looked perplexed. What did they expect in the country? Three men grouped together and had a heated discussion in French. Finally one bent down and lifted a violin out of its case. A second pulled out a clarinet and played a single note. The violin was tuned and passed carefully to Matt who picked it up reverendly and replayed his tune.

Meryl translated their question did Matt read music? Matt shrugged. There was another group consultation and the three musicians took up their instruments and played from music sheets. Matt sat and listened in awe. At the end Brent posed the question “Well gentlemen I feel a quartet would sound better than a trio. So can you train him?” Both Meryl and Marc translated the words and eventually the musicians accepted with hard work on Matt’s part he might be able to reach an acceptable standard but he’d need to practice for three to four hours a day. Matt looked down at the violin in his hands. Would he be permitted to play the violin in his hands?

There was a nod. Brent offered Matt the sum of thirty pounds a year plus board the same as he was paying the others plus he would get a quarter of any fees the group picked up. Suddenly there were smiles all round and the four musicians played their first tune together.

Meryl quietly asked one of the musicians did they really practise for three to four hours a day? “Chaque jour mademoiselle.”

Sara poked her head round the door. “There’s a deputation walking up the drive.” “Deputation?” “They’ve a look of one, wanting summat no doubt. I think I recognise one of the merchants from the village.” Intrigued Brent called for Mrs. Foster to join him in the drawing room to await his visitors.

“It’s my Esther’s seventeenth birthday in a month’s time and since you’ve the finest ballroom for many a mile I’ve a mind to hire it if you please to celebrate her birthday.” Brent looked over three of them, a very pretty but nervous girl, with her parents. Her father had the look of a solid man of business about him. “But if you do then none of the county set will attend. Neither you nor I have the connections.” “We’ll make do without them.” The girl was looking a bit down at this point. “Would you invite them if they’d come?” Interjected Mrs. Foster. “The wider the circle she meets the better chance of finding happiness so yes I’ll not hold anything against old money.”

“Well Mrs. Foster how do you propose inviting them so they’d come?” Enquired Brent. “Mrs. Underwood is gentry and one of your tenants. They’d come if the invitations were in her name.” “I daresay but what would persuade her to do such a thing?” “She has a daughter, Philomena, much of an age as Lorena and being a widow on a pension might be persuaded. I suggest we invite her to dinner with yourselves in two days time and let’s see what can be done.” “I suspect Mrs. Foster the invitation had better be in your name. Mrs. Underwood is a great one for the proprieties.”

Mrs. Underwood looked at the invitation. “Should we accept do you think Philomena?” “You mean mixing with new money might get us cut by the old?” “Yes but it is from our landlord no matter what the invitation says and I don’t want to get on the wrong side of him.” “We could sneak up after dark?” Mrs. Underwood laughed. “It mentions a carriage would be sent for us and there is a groom awaiting our reply in the kitchen.” “I wonder what his carriage would be like. I mean if you have money it’s unlikely to be a boneshaker.” She looked at her daughter thoughtfully. A formal London presentation was out of the question besides it was too much of a gamble. She’d hoped for a few invitations to local social events but so far these had been few and far between. She came reluctantly to a decision. “I’ll accept for both of us then.”

Mrs. Foster met them as they descended from the comfortable coach. “If you’d like to step this way I’ll introduce you to my other guests.” Mrs. Underwood raised her eyebrows at this fiction. “Mr. and Mrs. Clayson and their daughter Esther.” Esther gave a small polite curtsey. “Mr. Brent Marlor, owner of the estate.” Mrs. Underwood gave him a polite nod of her head. Sara served a choice of sherry. The two girls being given a third of a glass of a sweet variety.

Dinner was served. Marc had prepared a meal to impress. “I should have remembered you have a French chef.” Mrs. Underwood remarked as she sampled her food. Philomena looked at the dishes on the table in awe. Sampling a little of this then a little of that exchanging looks with Esther. Finally after the sweet course coffee was served. “So what are you after?” “It’s my Esther’s seventeenth birthday in a month’s time and we wondered about having a celebratory ball.” Mrs. Underwood looked thoughtful. “And where do I come in?” “I wondered if you might like to issue the invitations.” Replied Mrs. Foster. “But to do that I’d have to pay for everything.” Countered Mrs. Underwood.

“Before you commit yourself at least have a look at the ballroom.” Interjected Brent. Mrs. Underwood nodded her acquiescence and the group of dinners moved to the ballroom. It was a handsome room whose cost had played no little part in the decision by the previous owner to sell up. The French musicians started to play as the guests entered the room. Mrs Underwood took a chair and listened entranced. “They aren’t local?” “Oh that’s just my resident band.” She looked at him is disbelief. “Would you care to try the dance floor?” “Unfortunately I didn’t bring my dancing slippers.” Henry stepped forward, “Your maid gave me these in case you needed them.” He handed her a cloth bag and another to Philomena. Mrs. Underwood thought she might have words with her maid when they returned. Soon they were dancing triple minors. “Well is it up to standard?” “You know very well it is. Professional musicians, a French chef and an excellent ballroom but I couldn’t afford to pay for it all neither have Philomena nor I suitable gowns to wear.”

Agnes stepped forward and removed a table cloth that had been covering lengths of material. “I happen to have a few lengths from the mill lying around. We generally weave 10 percent more than the order to cover imperfections but from time to time the weave is fine. There’s no cost as it’s already been paid for in the original order.” Mrs. Underwood glanced longingly at the table, “I wouldn’t have time to make it up.” “My sister’s sewing maid is very good I dare say she would lend her to me.” Chimed in Mrs. Clayson.

She turned on Brent “and what do you hope to get out of all this?” “Me? Well I thought to have a dance for the tenant farmers a week after Esther’s birthday and if you sort out with the staff how to do one then they’ll know how to do the next. I have business in London that will keep me away for two weeks so I’ll be out of the way whilst you turn the place upside down.” “You expect me to organise it?” “Well that’s generally the way if you’re the hostess isn’t it? Besides it will show off the band so they might get a few more engagements out of it and Marc likes to keep his hand in by cooking for thirty occasionally.” “But the cost?”

“Let’s talk about the costs. The ballroom isn’t being used so that’s no charge. Same for the musicians, they get paid if you use them or not.” “But the food?” Marc made the comment “Most is from the estate so how do you cost it?” “The wine at least?” “The room can seat what thirty guests so fifteen bottles of wine. I deal in wine so if you’ll let me supply and choose the wine then I have some odds and ends of bins lying around that I could let you have at a very reasonable price.”

“How do I explain using your ballroom when you aren’t there? Are you going to allow anyone to hire it?” “No certainly not but the other is easy you approached your landlord and asked him if he had any ideas about a venue and since he was thinking or organising a dance for the tenants anyway he let you organise a dress rehearsal. I understand there is a lot of effort required to organise something like this.” She thought about it. “If we’re going to do it, it has to be done right. The girls will need to be taught a variety of dances so they won’t look foolish and I don’t know of a local dancing master.” Brent’s shoulder’s stooped in despair. That he hadn’t thought of. He turned to Mrs. Foster “Any ideas?” “One of the musicians?” Marc was sent for and a hurried French conversation took place with the musicians. “Jean-Paul knows the dances but his English is as you might say not strong.” Brent nodded “We can do something. I’ll send the carriage over to collect both girls tomorrow morning at nine am and they can tell you if it will work by lunchtime. Then you can decide.”

The next morning the two girls arrived and were guided into the ballroom where Meryl and Jean-Paul were walking through the steps of a dance with Jean-Paul giving his directions in French. Brent partnered Esther and Marc Philomena. Jean-Paul walked them through the dance with occasional translations from Marc, when they went wrong Jean-Paul and Meryl stepped in to show them their parts directly. By noon they managed two complete dances to music after walking them through first. Jean-Paul was a perfectionist and drove them hard to attain the standard he wanted.

“Well how did the dancing lesson go?” “We had three couples. There was another girl I hadn’t seen before who danced with Jean-Paul and showed us the steps. She might have been French as she seemed very shy and only spoke to Jean-Paul in French.” Mrs. Underwood frowned. “It might be more tactful not to mention her presence to anyone else.” “Why?” “We don’t want even a hint of scandal attached to this ball so best sometimes not to look a gift horse in the mouth.” “Right.”

“Now then do you think you can learn all the dances?” “I think so.” “Oh Brent mentioned he’d prefer it if the reverend wasn’t invited to the dinner beforehand apparently he has dropped a few hints about French cuisine.” “Brent? Did he give you permission to use his first name?” “No but everyone uses it, even the staff. He thought it might be easier if we to move in prior to the ball for a week after he left for London.” “You realise that if we do this we’ll be giving the ball of the year no one else has access to such a high standard of French cuisine nor such a delightful ballroom.” “Oh good I hate being added as a sort of late addition to make up the numbers. That means we’ll get invited in return to all the better dances and so forth.”     “We’d better draw up a guest list then of whom to invite then, starting with Esther and her parents?” “Well we can’t afford the wine if we don’t. You don’t think anyone will refuse do you?” “Curiosity will bring them but Marc’s cooking and a band of professional musicians will have them talking about it for years afterwards.”      “Good.”

Meryl was torn between not even being able to sneak a look at the ball and keeping herself hidden away when Brent mentioned they would be spending the next fortnight in London. Still learning the dances had been fun even if the instructions had been given in French. They did Henry’s mad dash to London routine once more. Henry gave the horses a day’s rest then set off to return to the estate. Meryl was taken to a shoemaker and had new shoes, dancing slippers and half boots made to measure which was fun but then she was given ledgers to inspect which wasn’t so much fun. It was interesting in a way as Brent explained that one of the things he made money on was auditing others’ ledgers. Apparently some of the aristocracy passed him their books for him to look over. He knew roughly what a given size of estate should produce depending where it was in the country so if the figures were very different to those expected then a more detailed in depth audit often revealed problems that the owners might not have spotted by themselves.

Sometimes it was theft but more often it was an indication that the ways things were run could be improved upon and the increase in income was always very welcome so it was a very profitable sideline. “But surely they know enough to be able to see these sort of things by themselves.” “If your great-grandfather wielded a good sword in battle is that an indication you might understand farming?” “Well I suppose they are a bit different.” “One or two are bright but most aren’t capable of understanding anything much. They aren’t really intelligent enough, educated or brought up to it.” “Someone doesn’t like the aristocracy.” “Some are fine. Others you wonder at them sometimes.” “But don’t they deserve our respect?” “For being born to a set of parents? And it’s random you know. The first born gets the lot, the second son not very much. As for the girls if they are an only child fair enough they inherit but if not then they’re way down the pecking order. One season and sorry you’re now a governess.” Meryl frowned, she’d never really thought about it that way before.

“But you allowed Mrs. Underwood to hold a ball on the estate.” “Have you ever considered the fact that they’ll not be happy to see new money can afford those luxuries they can’t? I expect Marc will be offered employment by one of two who will be dinning there.” “Doesn’t that worry you?” “Marc’s a snob. He knows at the end of the day there is more wealth created for England around a good table by a group of businessmen than in any nobleman’s home. In France the nobles were executed, the businessmen weren’t. Besides they won’t be willing enough to even match his wages never mind his investments.” “You mean Marc invests in your schemes?” “Most of my staff do, it’s pooled to reduce the risk and their investments are doing quite well thank you.” “Why would they need money?” “If they live too long they’ll need an income.” “Won’t their employer pay them a pension?” “Maybe but the Baron lost his estate on the turn of a card. So he won’t be paying them a pension now will he?” Meryl looked thoughtful.

At the estate the dinner and ball ran like clockwork. Mrs. Foster and Mrs. Underwood worked together to make the manor house show to its best advantage. The library had card tables set up for those who wish to play rather than dance. The idea of a buffet being served during the dance was a new one and Marc’s buffet creations set a new standard for the area. “But what I don’t understand is where is he?” “Off on business I heard.” “It seems a shame that he’s unwed.” “You don’t suppose we should invite him to dine do you?” “He might feel it was an honour but there again one never knows and if the food wasn’t to the same standard as his chef prepares.” The rest of the sentence was left unspoken. “Fancy renting your home out for money. It’s something I’d never do.” “Money must be all he thinks about.” “I’d like to know where she found those musicians.” “They came with the house I understand.” “Have you tried those dark brown ones on the end?” “Absolutely divine my dear.”

When Brent and Meryl returned two days after the ball, they were greeted with a description of all the finery on display. Brent rode down to visit Mrs. Underwood. “Satisfied?” He asked casually. She twitched her nose. “You managed to put all their noses out of joint. They came out of curiosity but they were impressed even if they didn’t mean to show it.” “Esther and Philomena?” “Oh they throughly enjoyed themselves. They managed to dance every dance even the two waltzes the musicians threw in. Philomena managed to snare the Honourable Jonathan for one whilst Esther somehow snared his elder brother. Philomena did say that some of the men in trade were more interesting to talk to over supper. I think it served to broaden both their horizons. Mrs. Clayson’s sister’s sewing maid turned out to be an absolute genius with a needle. I got asked twice who had made Philomena’s gown. They were quite disappointed when I replied one of the maids. I had her make up a number of gowns for both myself and Philomena. I hope you don’t mind.” “Not at all, glad to be of service.”

He carried on to the Clayson’s residence. “Happy?” “Couldn’t have been better.” “Mind you I’ve a notion to ask you to do it again but this time with businessmen rather than the lords and ladies.” Brent raised an eyebrow. “Esther thought being a lady might be fun but then she danced with the earl’s son and had supper with him.” “So?” “She said it was hard work trying to talk to him. He seemed to know about horses and hunting and that was the limit of his conversation. She’s become friends with Philomena though. She’s not a snob I’ll say that much for her. Now then considering the lengths of cloth that came our way I think I must owe you at least a hogshead of wine.” “I’d never drink my way through it all. No it served its purpose I’m satisfied. A dozen bottles of good French claret wouldn’t go amiss though.” “You’ll have them the next shipment that comes in.”

Christmas rolled up. Brent decreeded that the Yule log should be the traditional Oak in order to appease Thor.

“Well Helen lass we’ve been here a year now are you glad we came?” “More than glad, with Meryl to look after things I can call two days a week my own now without worrying about being called out at three am and you know she’s bright. I was always taught that infections were something in the air but Meryl dug out something about treating wounded soldiers and keeping things clean so now we boil things between patients and wash our hands more. What with that and Marc’s ideas about what they should eat and the prenatal relaxation and breathing exercises our patients are doing much better. I feel a bit guilty about where we used to live not having a trained midwife though. I’ll speak to the gaffer and see if he’ll agree to another trainee.”

Over time Meryl attended many of the dinners Brent gave as travellers stopped on their way down to London or up to Manchester. The business men she met always seemed to have a different point of view than what she might expect but sometimes she was able to give them a different insight as well. Mr. Starmer was a bit hard of hearing but if you faced him and spoke slowly he understood. He was visiting on his way back from a manufactory in Yorkshire and staying a few days with his wife. Taking a bit of a holiday as he put it. The food was excellent and there were a few walks to take for gentle exercise. His valet came down to the kitchen to beg a spot of olive oil on a cloth. Meryl watched him as he rubbed a spot on the boots he was cleaning letting it soak for a bit before buffing it away with blacking. “Trick of the trade.” He answered her unspoken question. “If it’s a bit of wax then olive oil softens it so I can rub it off.” “Wouldn’t gin work faster?” “Yes but it dries the leather out. Olive oil softens it.” She sat and thought about it for a while then carried off a small jar of olive oil. “Mr. Starmer I’d like to try something that might help your hearing.” “I’ll not have anything pushed down my ears. “No but a spot of warm olive oil might help soften the wax. Just lie on your side and I’ll put a few drops in.” He grumbled but Meryl was a pretty girl and persuasive as well. He lay down for an hour and read a book. She passed him a handkerchief when he sat up then she put a fresh towel down on the couch with a clean handkerchief on top. “Now the other ear.” They repeated it for four days and Mr. Starmer didn’t notice much difference at first but two days later his wife was telling him something “No need to shout I’m not deaf.” She looked at him in amazement then spoke in normal tones to him. “So what happened?” “Young Meryl put some olive oil down my ears to soften the wax and it seems to have done the trick.”

“We’re off to Truro on Monday. My man of business picked up a tin mine and a run down estate that were used to pay a gambling debt.” “He gambles?” “No but he has my authority to spend up to five thousand pounds if he sees a business opportunity.” “Where is Truro?” “Down in Cornwall.”

They took a week to reach the estate and Meryl turned to Brent “I thought you said it was run down?” “According to the books it is. We’ll have to see.” They found the steward and after showing him the documents that showed Brent was the new owner asked him how the estate was. “It’s doing nicely, I’ve been implementing some new practises. Still I’m glad you’re here the safe is getting rather full.” Brent blinked “The old lord sent his man of business to pick up the rents after each harvest. The new one dismissed the old man of business and moved to London Town and it was too far for me to go up to London Town with that much money. The wife wouldn’t hear of it.” “But the books.” “Oh them, never was much of one for books and ledgers but all the paperwork is in the office I just hadn’t got round to entering it all up.” Meryl gave a shrug somehow she knew she would be spending a week doing the ledgers whilst Brent rode round and inspected the estate.

They rode into Truro with the bags of coins on the floor of the carriage. Meryl drove and Henry sat inside with a shotgun in his lap on one side, Brent on the other. Everyone felt a lot easier when the money had been deposited. “I can’t believe you got all your money back plus you still own the mine and the estate.” “Let that be a lesson to you always check up on things. Still I think I owe my man of business a small bonus don’t you?”

Truro itself was quite civilised and Meryl found herself attending meetings with the manager of the tin mine. “We can’t go any deeper because of the water.” “What about one of Boulton and Watt’s fire engines?” Asked Brent. “Too expensive to run since we have to import all our coal by sea through Falmouth and even though they’ve removed the duty it’s still expensive.” Meryl spoke up recalling some correspondence she’d read through a while ago “Hasn’t Mr. Trevithick produced an improved version that uses less coal after Watt patents ran out recently?” “His engines haven’t been around long. I’d want to wait ten years to see how reliable they are first. Besides you know where you are with an atmospheric beam engine. This here high pressure steam might be dangerous.”

Brent turned to Meryl “Well do we try one of Mr. Richard Trevithick’s new engines?” Meryl looked startled what did she know about such things. “We could enquire about the cost?” She ventured. “Yes or no Meryl. If its no we shut the mine down, if its yes then there is money to be made and miners to employ.” Well she didn’t like to see people out of work and he had the money from the estate in the bank “Yes.” She ventured. She felt more confident after meeting Mr. Trevithick. He looked the part of a blacksmith.

They stopped off at Plymouth on the way back. They’d broken their journey at a small inn about an hour’s journey from Plymouth then stabled the horses at a coaching inn in Plymouth. Meryl and Agnes found a book shop and Brent said he’d try to meet them for tea about half three at a tea shop they saw on the parade. If he didn’t manage it, he’d see them back at the coaching inn.

“Fanny can you go and see what Mr. Fletcher wants? He’s some sort of lawyer but I said I’d send you along to him at the tea shop rather than his pokey office. Half three if you can make it.” Fanny set out willingly. She’d be able to pop into the book shop across the street afterwards. She took a table next to the window and supped her tea whilst awaiting Mr. Fletcher. “Lady Jennifer, how wonderful to see you.” She exclaimed as Meryl came in with Agnes. “Miss Gogley how wonderful to see you. Did you get turned off without a reference?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter a tall dark handsome man swept me up on his white charger.” Meryl giggled “He wouldn’t be called Henry would he?” “How did you know?” “Purely a lucky guess.” “Are you back with your uncle?” “Not exactly I’ve been visiting down in Truro.” “I’d best not ask too many questions then.” Just then Mr. Fletcher joined them. “I’d better be off back to the coaching inn.” Meryl swept out of the tea room a little concerned she’d been noticed but then thought that Miss Gogley wouldn’t give her away or more to the point wouldn’t have enough information to be able to give her away. “Agnes under no circumstances are you to mention to anyone what you heard this afternoon.” “No Meryl.” Came the awed reply.

“Now Miss dare I ask who it was you were speaking to?” “A former pupil of mine.” “I heard you address her as Lady Jennifer.” “Well yes.” “So you don’t mind signing these two affidavits to say she is alive and well.” “Why?” “If she hasn’t been seen in seven years she may be legally declared dead and that I’d like to prevent.” “You mean her uncle would get the money.” “Precisely.” “I’ll write to the vicar and mention having seen her in my letter.” “As you will.”

As Meryl and Agnes walked down the street Henry approached them. “Himself has to go on to London but since we’ve guests coming on the 14th and he forgot to mention it to Marc he thought it would be best if you returned home with me to prepare for them. I’ve your breeches in my bag here so I thought if we walked out of the town you could get changed behind a bush where Paul is guarding the riding horses. Agnes you come with us and then you’ll come back with Paul who will drive the carriage to London thence home.”

The vicar mentioned that Lady Jennifer had been seen by her old governess in Plymouth to his housekeeper in the strictest confidence. By nightfall everyone in the village except her uncle knew. Two days later the local magistrate dropped into see him. “I’ve a letter from a lawyer in Plymouth enclosing an affidavit to say Lady Jennifer is alive signed by her old governess.” “Plymouth you say. I’d best get down there.”

“Not a bloody trace, I took her picture round all the coaching inns asking about a young lady travelling with her maid around that time, nothing at all even for ready cash. Well nothing you can trust that is. One enterprising lad said he’d seen her but when asked to describe her said she wasn’t very tall well even at twelve she was a long meg. I found the governess and questioned her. It’s definite she was in Plymouth in company with her maid but all she could tell me was Lady Jennifer had been visiting in Truro. I even went as far as Truro but she wasn’t there and as far as I could tell never had been either.”

“Aunt I really am a proper..” “Sh! Not another word. What I don’t know I can’t let slip and lady’s maids are known for their discretion.” “Whoops.” Agnes did a little dance on the floor anyway.

The very elegant coach with a crest on the side arrived at the front door. A footman stepped down and knocked at the door then stood to one side as an elegant woman stood waiting for the door to be opened.

“I’m Briggs, Lady Burnley’s dresser. I understand you have a Meryl here. I wish to speak to her.” She was shown into the small reception room reserved for tradesmen and tenants. Brent stepped into the room behind Meryl. “Lady Burnley is in an interesting condition and wishes to interview you with a view to hiring your services during her delivery.” Meryl turned back to Brent. “She is not available for hire but I think she can be made available. Go with Briggs and I’ll have Henry bring the small coach behind for you to return.” Meryl grabbed her bags of equipment and mounted the coach to travel back with Briggs. Agnes travelled with Henry in case of need together with a travelling bag containing the bare minimum of clothes Meryl might require.

“So how old is Lady Burnley?” “She’s very young been married barely a year. She’s a little nervous since her sister died in childbirth but has been told you have an excellent record of healthy mothers and babies.” “How far gone is she?” “It doesn’t show yet but she’s had morning sickness for three days now.” Meryl closed her eyes more than a little nervous. When she reached Lord Burnley’s country estate she was introduced to Lady Burnley herself. “You’re much younger than I had expected. Have you had much experience?” “Two years now and more births than I care to count. Are you sure you don’t want a fancy London doctor?” “No I’d rather stay in the country than in London in the summer and my sister died of infection after giving birth supervised by a London doctor. I had heard you like to give advice early on.” “Well the earlier we start the better prepared you’ll be and the more chance of a healthy mother and child.” “I’ll double your salary to come and work for me.” “Unfortunately I’m indentured until I become of age so I don’t have any choice in the matter.” “I’ll speak to Charles.”

“First I think I need to speak to your cook or chef, then your housekeeper to prepare. You need to be taught how to breath and relax. I think it best if I visit you fortnightly for the moment then stay starting a month before your due date. Is that acceptable?” “I’m in your hands.”

In the kitchen Meryl handed over a copy of Marc’s notes to the French chef. “Ah Oui.” She was explaining things to him in French when Blott descended to enquire if she would be staying the night since it was unlikely they’d get back before dark.

The housekeeper was intrigued, a special room for the delivery, boil the sheets first then they were to be handled only by maids wearing cotton gloves which had also been boiled. Briggs asked her why and got told it seemed to work for injured soldiers.

“Will she do?” Lord Burnley asked his wife. “She’ll do fine, now don’t you worry. This is women’s work.” “By the way Blott has suggested a guest room.” “Really for a maid? Not with the other maids then?” “Apparently she has her own maid.” “How unusual she mentioned she was indentured and how very unusual for Blott not to recognise her social standing. Oh see about her coming to work for me directly Charles. I’m sure you can arrange something.”

Lord Burnley was put out, a mere commoner refusing to sell the girl’s indenture. “Are you quite sure you understand what I’m offering?” Brent smiled “I’ve guests arriving shortly so you’ll join us at dinner. We can talk more in the morning.”

That evening a group of half a dozen business men sat down to dine with Brent, Meryl and Lord Burnley. “Lord Burnley I’ll ask you to keep any commercially confidential information you hear tonight to yourself.” Lord Burnley nodded his agreement. After an excellent dinner the proposals were put forth one at a time. “We’re expecting a fifteen percent return on this one say eleven to be on the safe side. I’ll put you down for twenty then Brent?” “I’ve a mind to go twenty-five.” Lord Burnley turned to Meryl who was sat besides him. “Twenty-five?” “Thousand my lord.” “Fair enough. Now the next one is a canal. The map is on the wall. It connects two other canals and there are both coal and limestone deposits on the route so that will give us a supply of lime mortar besides summat to carry afterwards.” When they’d finished discussing their projects Lord Burnley mentioned he’d been approached about a seven mile canal project and his man of business thought it would be an excellent investment as canal projects made lots of money.

“Where is it?” Lord Burnley described it and Meryl walked over to the map that was still showing the first canal project. “So from here to here?” “The idea is it would lower costs getting our produce to market.” He looked round the table at the silent shaking of heads. “You don’t think it’s good idea?” “Tell him Meryl.” Interjected Mr. Starmer “For a canal project to pay it has to carry goods. At harvest time your canal boats will be busy but during the rest of the year I can’t see any traffic.” She stood back and you could see the cogs turning. “Where is the extent of your land?” Lord Burnley stood up and pointed to his boundaries. “Now if we were to run a spur south here and you owned this sand and gravel pit here it might make sense. It would be a shorter distance to build even though the barges would need to travel a little longer.” Mr. Judkins pipped up “But if we changed the course of the canal to a bit further south then that would be on Lord Burnley’s land.” “We did consider it but thought the land further north would be cheaper to negociate.” “Blackett has been after a section of my land that backs on to his. I dare say he’d swop for a bit of land around the sand and gravel since he’s always complaining nothing grows there.” “If we have the navies on site anyway, the spur wouldn’t cost that much extra. Say three miles at a thousand a mile, if we can get away without locks.” They settled down to a discussion of how much Lord Burnley’s land was worth to them.

Next morning Lord Burnley and Brent met. “Well my Lord you’ve seen how useful she can be and you can imagine how reluctant I’d be to give up her services permanently. Meryl will make herself available have no fears but she will not be released from her indentures.”

“Well darling is she coming?” “The man’s a cit.” “So?” “He’s a very wealthy cit who can afford whims and Meryl apparently is one of them. Not only that but over dinner they tore apart my canal scheme and Meryl came up with a different solution. So now I have money invested with him that is providing a good rate of return so I can’t afford to upset him. He did say she would be made available though but it all sounds very odd to me.” “Meryl, a maid, knows about canals? Are you sure?” “As I said there is something odd about her but I don’t know what it is. However Meryl’s idea saved me a few thousand which reminds me I’ll have to let Blackett know I’m prepared to swop some land for that bit he’s always complaining doesn’t grow anything.”

Lady Burnley looked at her younger brother in exasperation. “But you’re the earl now.” “And don’t I know it. I’ve always felt awkward around females. I mean to say young fashionable ladies are forever tripping in front of me. They haven’t any ideas in their head except the latest fashions.” “I could introduce you to a few bluestockings?” “They’re worse I couldn’t face listening to someone spout poetry twice a day or go on about how the ancient Greeks lived.” “You are supposed to have an heir.” “You mean send a bunch of flowers to someone who can afford to buy their own. If invite someone to the theatre, the gossips will have us married by the end of the week. Heaven forbid I should dance with some girl twice. Raises expectations don’t you know. I was the third for God’s sake. Colin caught fever after being out in the rain fishing and Martin went and died of fever in some god forsaken place in Spain playing toy soldiers.” “His colonel sent us a very nice letter saying how he’d died bravely in battle.” “He must think I was born yesterday. Three quarters of our losses are from fever and there were no battles anywhere near Martin when he died. Besides I was talking to one of the returned soldiers who saw him in the fever hospital. Now I’m supposed to run the estates and approve the ledgers. I mean to say the bindings look fine to me. It was Colin who had the training for it not me. I was supposed to either join the church or play with this scientific stuff. I’ve just got a pair of matched prisms by the way.” Lady Burnley had this sudden urge to dash upstairs and play with her son.

“Happy Birthday Lady Jennifer.” She looked at him “How long have you known?” “For certain when you responded just now, suspicions, well when someone starts offering fifty guineas for news of a runaway twelve year old named Lady Jennifer a week after you arrived I was fairly certain but if I knew for sure then I would have had to return you to your guardian so I didn’t enquire too deeply. We knew when you arrived from the quality of your shoes, gown and speech that you weren’t the normal maid looking for work and Mrs. Foster and myself didn’t like the thought of what might happen to you by yourself. We thought to keep you safe whilst we found out a bit more about you. Oh by the way I have your papers to say you have served your apprenticeship as a maid.” She poked her tongue out at him in a most unladylike manner. “Now I suggest you hire my services to reclaim your lands and funds. Lady Jennifer hasn’t been declared legally dead by the way, she was seen in Plymouth by her old governess.” “You set that up?” “Let’s say I heard about it.” He pulled out a heavy purse “Nine years pay less a little pocket money.” He opened it and took out a coin and looked at her questioningly. At her nod he passed her the rest. “Do you know where my old governess is?” “Well where she was a month ago and I doubt if she’s moved. Were you thinking of giving her a pension for preserving your inheritance? If she hadn’t had vouched for you I suspect your guardian would have sold everything off and moved to warmer climes such as Italy.” “I suspect I should do something for her then but why all the time spent explaining things to me?” “It was an investment. You’ll be in a position to influence the government one way or another and trade comes well below fox hunting in the priorities. At least you understand more about trading and how business works than most of the aristocracy. One or two have investments themselves but most don’t like to get their hands dirty.” “You’ve spoiled me for the marriage market.” “But would you have been happy as a fashionable brood mare?” “I’ll have to think about that. Anyway I take it you have planned how to recover my monies?” “The carriage awaits outside but first I think you should take your leave of the rest of the staff. They worked hard at your education.” “They weren’t the only ones.”

He opened the library door to show the staff all lined up. “It was their idea not mine. Staff may I present Baroness Braye, Lady Jennifer Whittemore to you.” Lady Jennifer did a creditable curtsy to the staff. “Thank you all for all you’ve done.” “It was a pleasure my lady.” Replied Mrs. Foster on behalf of all the staff. Lady Jennifer noticed a very muscular Jem standing at the back. “Jem what are you doing here?” “I’ve been engaged as the new farrier for the estate.” She carried him off into the library. “Now you two what’s been happening?” “Pure coincidence, Henry thought he was a likely looking lad to be an apprentice blacksmith and he likes working with horses so Paul carried him off to Manchester for his apprenticeship.” “Would you like to work for me on my estate?” “Back with my family, yes I’d like that.” turned to Brent “May I take Jem and Agnes with me?” “Up to them.” “Oh Yes please.” blurted out Agnes.

They were ten big men pushing their belongings on three handcarts. “Looking for work?” “Aye things were slow at the docks so we thought we’d come up river like and try our hand at being a harvest gang.” “It’s two months until harvest time.” “Is it really? Well we’ll have to think of summat to pass the time then.” The steward shook his head. “There’s a barn if it begins to rain.” “Thanks all the same but we’ll just sit here quiet and have a bite to eat first whilst Alf here sorts out what we do next.”

“Alf there’s a carriage approaching.” “And there was me thinking of taking a little nap. Right lads on your feet.” There were moans and groans all round. “Alf do you think we should knock on the door and let them know about the carriage?” “We could do.” Tom and Alf ambled over towards the front door. The carriage came to a halt and Tom stepped forward to open the door. Jem stepped out first followed by Brent, Lady Jennifer and the local magistrate. Alf knocked on the door and when it was answered just opened it wider. “Assemble the staff. Lady Jennifer is here to take possession.” The footman stood gaping. Jem stepped in followed by the other dockers who were now armed with staves from the handcarts.

“All staff to the hall now!” Alf yelled. Lady Jennifer’s uncle came storming out “What are you playing at.” “Lady Jennifer has decided she’s taking possession so out you go.” “You can’t touch me I’m a noble.” “That’s as maybe but I can throw all your clothing out of the door and pour a bucket of water over them. Then I can prevent you from being given any food or water, give you a day I reckon at most.” “Sir Mortimer can you do nothing to stop him?” “Well no the paperwork is in order so if Lady Jennifer says you go then I’m afraid you must leave.”

“Oh and by the way son we stopped off at the bank so you have no access to any funds.” “This is outrageous!” “So is the idea of marrying off a twelve-year old girl for her dowery.” Brent spoke for the first time. “You’ve been harbouring her!” “Sorry I only found out she was Lady Jennifer after she became of age.” Alf nodded to two of the gang. “Best go through the bedrooms you’ll spot his soon enough. Just throw his clothes out the window.”

“Alf fetch me the steward and bring his books.” Alf nodded and ambled off. When he returned the steward was with him. He laid his books out on the desk “My lady.” He wasn’t expecting her to go through them in such detail. Nor to find three minor mistakes in the arithmetic.

Alf and Tom accepted posts as footmen when Lady Jennifer mentioned the house in London had a mews at the back where families of selected staff could live. Tom stayed with Jem in the country to keep an eye on things whilst Alf went back with the other dockers to arrange to move Tom’s and his families into the mews.

Brent returned home whilst Lady Jennifer settled into her estate. She’d hardly been there a month when Henry arrived saying Brent had died of fever and could she come back to help sort things out. The will when it was read left sums of money to his loyal servants and the remainder of the estate to Baroness Braye knowing she would be able to continue to look after its interests. It took Lady Jennifer a moment or two to take in the fact he’d left all his business interests to her. Well she had money now and Tom had been heard to mutter about missing his family. To London they would go.

“So Alfred does your wife like her new abode?” Alf blinked, Agnes translated “Alf, wot’s yer old lady say about yer new home?” “Well she’s happy with it being above the carriage houses, roomy too, less smelly than above the stables. Mind you she says even the stables here are better than our old place.”

Agnes looked at her. “It’s no good you’ll have to buy some fashionable gowns made in London.” “I don’t see what’s wrong with the comfortable ones I have. Oh all right one of the properties is leased out to a modiste we’ll go and visit her.”

Huguetta sat facing her friend. “We’ve been here a year now and we have no clients.” Claudette shrugged her shoulders “We have sold one or two dresses. With your skills as a designer more must come soon.” “Have we paid the rent so far?” “We paid three months in advance when we signed the lease for seven years and since then that nice young man hasn’t thrown us out.” “But he will eventually.” “Well we can’t afford to go back to Paris.” They looked at each other glumly.

Alf entered the shop. “Show yourselves, customer’s here waiting.” Claudette stepped into the shop and took a look at Alf’s broken nose. She reminded herself you can’t judge a customer by what they look like. Behind him Lady Jennifer and Agnes entered. She looked at Lady Jennifer’s homemade dress and reminded herself yet again you couldn’t judge a customer by how they dressed. Lady Jennifer looked round the shop. It didn’t look very inspiring. “She needs to get spruced up a bit.” Declared Agnes. “We need to call on a few members of society.” “That won’t be inexpensive.” Better to get the message across now to avoid wasting time.

Lady Jennifer shrugged “Well you owe me nine months rent to start.” Huguetta came from the back room and Lady Jennifer perked up. There was something about the way she held herself. She switched to French and addressed Huguetta “But can you do it?” “We would need fabrics to start.” “Come with me.” The two girls locked the door and stepped into the coach. At the fabric warehouse they were told to pick out what was required. “Which designs would you like made up?” Lady Jennifer looked blank, Agnes commented “She owns the warehouse and has very little interest in the latest fashion but I’d like her to look the part so I won’t have other lady’s maids looking down their nose at me.” Huguetta walked round her then looked through the fabrics. Claudette mentally went through her seamstresses Chantal was about the same size. “You need a full wardrobe?” “A day dress for the moment but perhaps a few other gowns as well.” Replied Agnes. “I must measure first.” Lady Jennifer stood in the office whilst Claudette took her measurements. “I will deliver the first dress tomorrow by noon.” “Don’t you need fittings and such?” “No, that will not be necessary. One of the girls will deliver it and can make any adjustments needed at that time.” “If the dress is acceptable the outstanding rent will be considered paid.” Lady Jennifer indicated to Alf he give a purse to Huguetta before she left.

“Who is she?” She asked Matthew who was stood behind the counter. “Baroness Braye or Lady Jennifer Whittemore as she prefers to be called.” Huguetta wandered across, “She is a lady of the ton then?” “So I believe.” Huguetta revised her ideas. That evening the seamstresses were treated to their first generous portioned meal with meat for a long time.

Just before noon the following day Huguetta arrived with a day dress together with matching gloves. Lady Jennifer tried it on and Agnes approved it. It was apparent to Huguetta that Agnes would need a little help before she could be thought of as a dresser but that could be done. Huguetta gave it one last look. Yes she’d caught the colour of Lady Jennifer’s eyes nicely. She passed a second package to Agnes. “Try it.” She commanded. Agnes tried it on, it fitted and seemed to suit her whilst still being appropriate for a maid. Lady Jennifer looked on. “Does she need a new dress?” “It will give her confidence and if you’re mixing with the ton both of you will need it. I take it you would like some more?” “I’m not quite certain yet.”

Huguetta was dismissed and Lady Jennifer turned to Agnes. “Think we’re smart enough for a call?” Agnes grinned “I’ll have the carriage brought round.”

They arrived at Lady Burnley’s to leave their cards but glancing at them waiting in the carriage Blott descended and ushered them into the hall. “If you’ll wait a moment or two my lady.” He majestically strolled back to the room other looking the garden where Lady Burnley was playing with her son.

“Baroness Braye has called.” “Baroness Braye? I don’t recall the name. It’s not my at home day. Can’t you see I’m busy with my son Blott.” “I feel she will be interested in seeing your son once more.” Lady Burnley glowered at him. “Blott I believe you’re losing your touch. Oh very well show her in but if she’s some sort of mushroom I’ll have your guts for garters.”

“Meryl! How are you? And more to the point who is Baroness Braye? No wait if Blott announced you as Baroness Braye that means you hold the title in your own right. How intriguing? Let me guess a wicked stepfather?” “Not quite, a wicked uncle who was going to marry me off at the age of twelve for half my dowery.” “You know one day Blott will get his comeuppance.” “What has he been doing?” “Well I was intrigued when he put you in a regular guest room and not in with the servants and now showing in the baroness Braye I bet he was smirking all over his face. Still he’s a treasure sometimes I just wish I knew how he did it. So your shining knight, Brent I think my husband called him, saved you. It was very brave of him if your guardian had found you he would have been in trouble. I wonder if he knew who you were?” “Well he addressed me by name on my twenty first birthday so I think he had his suspicions.” “I bet he took great care not to find out definitely.” “I think you’re right.” “Now how is your son doing?” She glanced down at Simon who was looking very put out at falling down as he took his steps towards Lady Jennifer. “I breast fed him myself as you suggested for a year and my husband thinks he’s a genius but I’m not so sure. He’s definitely fun to play with.”

“But what about a young lady’s education, learning to play the piano and so forth.” “Oh he gave me an education alright. Apprentice maid I was. I’ve been taught what to look for when buying a horse, how to ride practically anything, drive a donkey cart, curricle, wagon, and coach. I have a repertoire of a dozen French dishes I can prepare. I know the ins and outs of a housekeeper’s duties. I’ve done his books for years. I’ve been the hostess for his business meetings. I’ve been taught to audit books. Sheep I know which breeds give the softest wool, and don’t get me started on varieties of wheat or turnips. I’ve even been taught to look to look out for any business opportunities. I’ve been taught how to graft plants and take cuttings. All his senior staff took delight in teaching me everything they knew and to cap it all when the steward’s daughter was enceinte I was taught to be a midwife by Helen. Actually we were pretty good with Marc the French chef getting involved on the food side and by the time we’d acquired a few books and a set of the latest instruments we were un team formidable as Marc would say. So yes I’ve had an education but not a conventional young lady’s one and that’s why I need some help. For example this dress I have on Agnes thinks it’s very good but is it good enough?” “That’s easy. I’ll ring for Briggs.”

Briggs entered “Take at look at Lady Jennifer’s dress. Is it up to ton standards?” “Could you stand and walk across the room please my Lady?” Lady Jennifer did as requested. “It’s well cut and shows a certain style but it’s not from a recognisable modiste.” Lady Jennifer looked questioningly. “Normally a debutante wants to show how she fits into society. So they go to a recognised modiste and each has their own signature touches. Those who are very wealthy go to the most expensive modistes to demonstrate their wealth. Those with less money go to other recognisable modistes. Their dresses are an indication of their position if you like.” “But does Lady Jennifer need to follow these rules?”

“Who made the dress?” “A dressmaker who rents one of my properties and is behind with the rent. If she is successful I make money from the rent.” “Parisian trained by the look of things.” She looked thoughtful. “If you don’t mind me saying so you don’t fit the normal debutante profile. So wearing gowns such as this would emphasise this. Of course you cannot be too individual so it would be best if at least two other ladies had gowns from the same modiste.” “Of course and I’m quite sure my wardrobe is in need of updating.” “You will of course need a dresser to make the most impact.” “Huguetta the designer has offered her services for three months.” “And with Lady Burnley’s permission I could take Agnes in hand and show her a few finishing touches.” “Thank you Briggs.” “My pleasure madam and may I say it is a pleasure to see you in your proper station in life Lady Jennifer.”

“Now tell me how is your knight in shining armour?” “He died a month ago of fever unfortunately and his last twist was he left everything to me which is a complication as now I need to look out for fortune hunters. All I really want to do is go to the theatre, a few parties and balls but it might be difficult without someone to sponsor me. I don’t suppose you could sponsor me as a third cousin or some such?” “For the person who helped my son Simon into the world I think something can be arranged.” “May I repay you in any way?” “Well if you don’t mind looking over a few ledgers my brother finds them hard to comprehend. I could get them sent over and you could work here in the library.” Lady Jennifer’s nose twitched but she accepted. A note was sent round to Lady Burnley’s brother asking for his ledgers forthwith. A second note was sent to Lady Jennifer’s modiste saying Lady Burnley and her dresser would be available Friday morning at ten o’clock if they wished to call upon her. Lady Jennifer sent her own note saying more day dresses would be required immediately.

At the shop Huguetta, Claudette and the seamstresses discussed the implications. “I feel they are all connected. If Lady Jennifer is properly turned out and Lady Burnley follows her lead it will all work out. Lady Jennifer certainly needs a complete wardrobe. “Huguetta can you make sure she is perfectly turned out?” “But of course. It will be simple. A few accessories and the thing is done.” “We need a few accessories for the shop as well.” added Chantal on a more practical note.

The next day Lady Jennifer arrived shortly after breakfast and settled down in the library with the ledgers making notes as she went through them. Shortly before lunch Geoffrey arrived and was directed to the library by his sister who followed to perform the introductions. “I’m looking for the person who is looking through my ledgers. Have they stepped out for a minute?”

Lady Jennifer looked up. “Is he house trained?” She asked his sister. “Apparently not. Geoffrey if you pull up a chair next to Lady Jennifer no doubt she will explain what she’s found so far.” “You mean?” “Sit.”

He sat as Lady Jennifer explained the entries to him asking questions as she went and listening to the explanations. “Lunch you two?”

Over lunch Geoffrey mentioned he liked Lady Jennifer’s dress. There was something about it that made it slightly different to the ones he usually came across. “Thank you.” “Paying a compliment Geoffrey, there’s hope for you yet.” “I did?” “That was an even greater one I think.” smiled Lady Jennifer enjoying his discomfort. “I must say when you explain it. It all seems so simple.” “So even a man can understand it brother dear?” He scowled.

It took three days of going through the ledgers before they were finished. Geoffrey thought about it. This was a far longer time getting to know someone than four dances and three dinners might allow before making an offer. She seemed sensible. “We’ll be married.” Lady Burnley entered the room to see how the work was progressing and caught sight of Lady Jennifer’s expression. “How wonderful, when did she agree?” “Well that’s a given.” “Brother dear I don’t think it is. Now why don’t you ask her formally?” “Oh very well. Lady Jennifer will you give me your hand in marriage?” “Thank you for the complement, I trust you’ll allow me time to consider the matter?” His reply was halted at a speaking look from his elder sister. “Certainly he will and no doubt you’ll find an answer within a fortnight?” Lady Jennifer bowed her head in silent acquiescence. “I’m not sure you know enough about me yet and now your ledgers are complete. You have a few things to check such as the number of sheep etc and I’ve got behind with a few tasks I must see to.” She stepped up to him and kissed him with an open mouth kiss. Geoffrey stood in shock. Lady Jennifer kissed him on the cheek, “Bye, I’ll let you know my answer soon.”

That evening Lord Burnley heard his brother-in-law complain about his treatment after offering marriage. “Treated me as though she suspected me of being a fortune hunter. Me an Earl with extensive land holdings.” “Well she will want to have you investigated.” The Earl sat up indignantly. “She holds a title in her own right you know brother and she mentioned Brent had died and left her his business interests.” “So she own a small estate compared to mine and a shop.” “Did I mention I dined with him once and they were taking about investment opportunities. I saw him casually invest twenty five thousand in one and I got the impression that was small change. Also it was Lady Jennifer who spotted the very profitable sand and gravel quarry we have now besides lowering the cost and giving me a valuable interest in a canal at no cost apart from a bit of land.” “Oh how loverly you mean she could buy and sell my brother? Oh good for her. She really has a proper choice of what to do. If she’ll have you I’m going to enjoy having her as a sister-in-law. Geoffrey I’d start sending a few bunches of flowers if I were you, and we aren’t using the box on Thursday evening.” Geoffrey wondered if the world was run by women.