Chapter Ten #2
“The Earl of Hutton,” Annie repeated, settling onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “I guessed it would be an aristocrat. Have you met him?”
Janet regarded Annie over the rim of her spectacles. “Not personally, no. Lady Hutton, yes. Many times, in fact.”
“His wife? The countess?”
“Yes. Ouch!” Frowning, Janet stuck a fingertip in her mouth. “Time to get new spectacles, I think.”
“Here, Janet, give it to me.” Hattie held out a hand. “I’ll thread it for you.”
“Why?” Annie asked.
“Because my eyesight is still perfect,” Hattie replied.
Annie shook her head. “No, I mean, how come you’ve met the countess, Janet?”
Janet handed the bobbin and needle to Hattie. “Because, on occasion, I’m asked to help with the flower arrangements at Myddleton, and Lady Hutton sometimes insists on being involved. She loves her garden and her flowers.”
Annie pondered the response. She’d never met a member of the aristocracy before. “Is she nice?”
“She is utterly delightful. A fine lady with a kind heart. Thank you, Hattie.” Janet took the threaded needle back.
“The entire family is delightful, actually. Though, the dowager countess can be rather overbearing at times, I understand. Mind you, I’ve only met her once, but it left an impression. She must be in her nineties by now.”
“So, you’ve actually been inside the house.”
Janet picked up the apron that had been sitting on the table. “Many a time,” she replied, frowning as she inspected the part in need of repair.
“What is it like?”
“Well, I’m not familiar with the entire house, of course, but what I have seen is as splendid as you might expect. Especially the long gallery.”
“The long gallery.”
“Yes. It’s where most of the family’s art collection is located. It’s very impressive.”
“Oh, I should love to see it. It sounds wonderful.”
Janet didn’t look up from her mending, but she smiled. “It is.”
Annie heaved a sigh and shifted her gaze to the window as she reflected on her morning excursion. “It was beautiful up there,” she said, as much to herself as the others. “The view from the ledge is incredible.”
“Freya’s Farewell? I haven’t been up there for years,” Janet said, head still bent, her needle darting in-and-out with practiced efficiency. “I never dared to step onto the ledge. Just thinking about the drop makes me shudder. I don’t like heights.”
“Freya’s Farewell?” Annie pulled her gaze from the window. “Is that what it’s called?”
Janet grimaced. “Named after a young lady who supposedly threw herself off there when her sweetheart married another. I suspect it’s just a made-up tale, though. Lots of them in these parts.”
“Poor Freya.” Annie shook her head. “I do hope it’s not true.”
“I’m fairly sure it isn’t.” Janet shrugged. “In any case, don’t let it stop you from going back up there.”
“Is it wrong, do you think,” Annie said, after a moment, “for me to be roaming all over the countryside? I mean, Papa has only been gone for six weeks.”
Janet paused her mending and looked at Hattie, who answered with a firm shake of her head.
“No, pet, of course it isn’t wrong. What would be gained by staying cooped up in the house all day?
Nothing at all, that’s what. Your father wouldn’t want you to do that, either, you know he wouldn’t.
He’d say it wasn’t healthy, and he’d be right.
Wearing that black garb doesn’t mean you should stop living.
Life goes on and we’re obliged to get on with it. ”
“I suppose.” Annie heaved a sigh, wishing she could lose the niggling burden of guilt that made her feel as though enjoyment of any description was inappropriate.
“Will you do something for me, Annie?” Janet asked, without looking up from her task. “There’s a small, white envelope in the hall-table drawer. Will you fetch it for me, please?”
“Yes, of course.” Annie scraped her chair back and went in search of the envelope, returning with it moments later. “Is this the one?”
Janet glanced at the envelope in Annie’s outstretched hand. “Yes, that’s it. There’s a note inside. Take it out and read it, will you?”
Annie raised her brows. “Have you not read it?”
“Of course I have.” Janet took a small pair of scissors from the table and snipped off the thread. “But I’d like you to read it.”
“Out loud?”
“If you wish, though it’s not necessary. I just thought you might be interested in what it says, that’s all.”
Intrigued, Annie took out the folded piece of paper, opened it, and silently read the short message, her eyes widening before she was even half-way through.
Monday, June 19th, 1846
Dear Miss Caldridge,
I trust this request finds you in good health.
Your valued services are required at Myddleton House on Thursday, August 6th of this year. Your early arrival would be greatly appreciated, and you should expect to be here for the better part of the day. Luncheon will, of course, be provided.
In anticipation of your prompt and positive response, I remain,
Your friend.
Mrs. Shelburne,
Housekeeper
Myddleton House.
“Oh, my goodness!” Annie lifted her gaze. “Are you to do the flower-arranging, Janet?”
“Yes. Well, some of it, at least.” Janet stood, shook out the apron she’d been mending, and then folded it neatly. “There’s obviously a gathering of some description scheduled. A house party, most likely.”
“Um, would I be allowed to go with you?” Annie winced. “I mean, would it even be permitted? I’d really love to see the house.”
The beginnings of another smile appeared.
“I thought you might,” Janet replied. “I responded to Mrs. Shelburne before you arrived, but I’ll send her another note to say I’m bringing an assistant.
I shouldn’t think she’ll mind. Not that you can go wandering about the place willy-nilly, young lady.
Myddleton House is, first and foremost, a private home.
You’ll be obliged to stay with me. You can help me with the flowers. ”
“Yes, of course. I understand.” Annie cupped her hands to her face, felt the glow of pleasure on her cheeks, and decided to ignore the anticipated twinge of guilt. “Oh, I can’t wait to see the place. Maybe you could give me a few lessons on flower arranging before then?”
“Yes, of course,” Janet replied, and then smiled as a scratching sound came to the back door followed by a recognizable bark. “There he is. Let him in, will you, Annie?”