Chapter 11 #2
“I am Thorton, the grocer, and this is Franks, the butcher. We brought the orders for the house, Ma’am, but this lady here says that there be no funds to set up the accounts. We do not know you all and we in the area do not issue credit to unknown persons.”
“Mrs. Ghent?” Jane turned to face the woman, her glare making the woman gulp.
“We do not have any household funds available, ma’am,” she declared, eyes gleaming with hatred.
“Fetch me the lock box, Mrs. Ghent.”
The woman walked away without comment and Jane offered the men a seat in the hall. “I am sorry that we are at sixes and sevens right now. I shall see that things are set right.”
When she finally returned, Jane accepted the box and opened it with the key from her chatelaine. It was indeed empty of funds, containing only a small ledger.
“Where are the household funds, Mrs. Ghent?” Jane demanded.
“Miss Bingley took it for safekeeping,” she announced. “I did not see a problem as she is acting mistress.”
“I see. Your services are no longer needed,” Jane declared.
The lady rose with a smirk and went to sail from the room but paused when Jane continued, “Let me be specific. You no longer have a position in this household. You have one hour to gather your things, John will assist you, and you may be on your way. Mr. Granger, Mary and Nancy and George, Peter, and Thomas will be going as well.”
“But, how shall we return to London!” The woman demanded.
“Normally, I would give you the funds to take the post coach, but as you see, they appear to be missing. You shall have to find your own way. Good day.” Jane rang the bell and requested that John, one of the Nichols men, see to the removal of the London servants.
She joined the men in the hall where it was obvious by their awkward glances that they had overhead everything.
“I do apologize for wasting your time, gentlemen. I shall write to my husband directly and ask that funds be sent forthwith, but it will take a sen’night before it will get there and back again.
I do not ask that you bend your policies, but I hope that you will be willing to do business with Ivy Well in the future. ”
Both looked relieved that she was not pressing and bid her farewell. Jane was sure that the story would be through the neighborhood within the hour. There was nothing to be done but send an express and hope that Bingley responded with alacrity.
She called for Mrs. Toole and told her all. “Is there enough in the storerooms to keep us fed for the next week?” Jane asked. “For I do not know what we shall do if there is not.”
Mrs. Toole did some calculations in her head, but did not look optimistic.
“There are vegetables, at least some, from the kitchen garden, and we will have eggs from the hen house which Mrs. Darcy had seen stocked while you were gone. Milk and cream from the dairy but it is too late in the season for pheasant. I suppose you could kill one of the layers for your dinner.”
“I shall not be eating any better than I can offer everyone else,” Jane asserted. “Is there any grain or flour?”
“Plenty of grain as it is paid as part of the quarterly rents, but when the Chef arrived he demanded that we order flour from town instead.”
“Strange,” Jane laughed. “What happened to Margaret?”
“She left to live with her daughter who has had several births too close together.”
“I am glad she was able to help. Apparently, this man is another Londoner. I shall speak with him. So, we will not lack bread then?”
“Not if you can convince him to bake with what we have, ma’am.”
“Alright, let us go speak with our French chef.”
She and Mrs. Toole descended into the newly refurbished kitchen where the Chef was calling out demands in broken French, angry that his order had not been delivered.
“What want, lady, I made dinner!” he cried in strangely accented French.
Jane replied in rapid-fire French, explaining her appearance in the kitchen and his face fell. “Shall we continue in English, Mr. —?”
“It’s Scruggs, Ma’am,” he admitted, sheepishly.
“Very well, Mr. Scruggs. You are likely aware that I have been busy with other things since we arrived and have not yet been able to discuss my expectations. It is obvious that you are working under the impression that I have the same demands as my sister-in-law.”
“Aye, miss, er, Ma’am.”
“I have just one question, then. Are you aware that the flour you wished to purchase from Cheadle was procured from this estate and you merely paid the miller to carry it home and bring it back again?”
He flushed deeply and shook his head. “Had I thought about it at all, I suppose it should have occurred to me. Miss Bingley was adamant that only the most high-quality ingredients be used to grace her table and I continued on with her orders.”
“I see.” Jane looked away as she thought. “That is a failure on my part. And are you willing to learn what is available on the home farm and plan and cook accordingly or do you too find it offensive?”
“I grew up in London, Ma’am, and learned to cook onboard a ship that sailed under a French flag, which is how I learned a bit of the language. It would be an interesting challenge to base my menus on available produce, if you would be understanding as I learn a bit.”
“Of course, Mr. Scruggs, and I am not saying that you cannot purchase anything, just please see what is available before doing so. I grew up on an estate and will be familiar with many receipts from my own cook if you would care to look through my common book. My mother was a renowned hostess in Hertfordshire, so they are time tested.”
He agreed with a pleased look and Jane continued, “The meals for those of us upstairs I would prefer to be kept simple, just two courses, unless we are entertaining, which will hopefully free up time for you to work on some new recipes. Unfortunately, there has been a, oh why pretend, Miss Bingley stole the household funds before she left, likely to make me as uncomfortable as possible, not caring about the others who would be affected. We shall have to rely upon what is currently in the storerooms for the next while until they can be replaced by my husband.”
“I had heard, Ma’am. The whole house is speaking of it.”
“It is too good a tale to have hoped for some discretion,” Jane sighed.
“The only other thing I would like to discuss is the usual meal for the servants, when things settle.” He looked wary.
“I am a firm believer that all people need both meat and fresh vegetables to work at their peak efficiency, even the scullery maid and boot boy. Please make sure in the future that the cuts you use are sufficient to accommodate all of the household. And once a week, a sweet treat would not go amiss.”
“Indeed, Ma’am!” he agreed, suddenly more enthusiastic. “I shall speak with the gardener, shall I? We will do what we can for the time being, and I will explain to the servants the meals that they will have in the future.”
“Thank you, Mr. Scruggs,” she rose and smiled. “I shall get out of your way then. We shall speak next week about a real menu.”
He rubbed his hands together like a greedy boy and bounded away, his former anger replaced by excitement.