housekeeper was small and stout, encased in black bombazine, keys at her waist and an enormous starched cap on her head. Her face had a high shiny glaze and her little eyes held a look of perpetual outrage.
Gin, thought Miss Trumble.
The pot-boy was undersized and had a loose wet mouth and moist black eyes. He gawked about him with bovine stupidity.
“John, here, says he was at the back of the Great Hall this morning at dawn after we had all given up the search for the man who tried to impersonate the late Mr. Judd. Is that the case? Was John with you?”
“Yes, sir,” said the housekeeper. She had a deep hoarse voice. Definitely gin, thought Miss Trumble.
“You are sure?”
“Oh, yes, sir. John says to me, he says, that it might have been a real ghost after all.”
“And you, boy?” said Charles to Freddy.
Freddy tugged his forelock. “I seed ’im as plain as day, sir.”
He looked to the housekeeper for approval.
“You may go,” said Charles. “Not you, John.”
When the housekeeper and pot-boy had left, Charles said, “You are the only servant who could have impersonated the late Mr. Judd, because of your looks. But obviously I was mistaken. You maygo about your duties. But remember and tell the other servants—if I find the culprit, I will deal with him first before I hand him over to the authorities.”
Chapter Three
She likes her self, yet others hates
For that which in herself she prizes;
And, while she laughs at them, forgets
She is the thing that she despises
.
—
W ILLIAM C ONGREVE
S OMEHOW, THE SISTERS had expected the excitement of a visit to Mannerling to go on forever. But rainy days set in and although the children came daily during the week, neither Charles nor his father came with them. There was only the local assembly to look forward to, and that, the sisters privately thought, would be the usual dull affair. Of course, Isabella would soon be with them and that was at least something exciting. But the damp dreary days made the hours drag by. Barry began to worry about getting them safely to the assembly and in an open carriage, too, for thick fog had started to shroud the countryside at night, along with the persistent drenching rain.
Lady Beverley was once more victim of one of her imaginary illnesses and demanded “absolute quiet,” so there were not even Lizzie’s tunes of the pianoforte to enliven their days. And then, just when it seemed to the sisters that they would be locked in this rainy, foggy, silent grave of BrookfieldHouse forever, the day before the assembly the morning sun appeared and burnt through the fog, leaving the countryside glittering and shining under a clear blue sky.
And Mark and Beth arrived with a letter from the general to say he and his son would be at the assembly, for friends of theirs had come to stay at Mannerling and were anxious to sample the “local excitements.”
Belinda and Lizzie took out gowns and feathers and lace. A party from Mannerling might include some young men!
Rachel said it would amuse her now to go and see all the ladies trying to ensnare the owner of Mannerling.
A package arrived in the mail for Miss Trumble. She opened it and took out several letters and read them with a smile. Then she went in search of Lady Beverley. Her mistress was up and about and looking over several gowns. “What do you think I should wear, Miss Trumble?” she asked when she saw the governess. “I wore this plum velvet for half-mourning, but I fear it looks sadly démodé.”
“There is a pale-blue silk here, very grand, and a good line,” said Miss Trumble, picking up the gown from the bed and shaking out the folds. “With an overdress, the one you have, you know, of darker-blue sarsenet, ’twould be very fetching.”
“Perhaps you have the right of it.”
“My references, my lady.” Miss Trumble held them out.
“Put them on my desk over there. Oh, and Miss Trumble, it will not be necessary for you to accompany us. I do not
Gin, thought Miss Trumble.
The pot-boy was undersized and had a loose wet mouth and moist black eyes. He gawked about him with bovine stupidity.
“John, here, says he was at the back of the Great Hall this morning at dawn after we had all given up the search for the man who tried to impersonate the late Mr. Judd. Is that the case? Was John with you?”
“Yes, sir,” said the housekeeper. She had a deep hoarse voice. Definitely gin, thought Miss Trumble.
“You are sure?”
“Oh, yes, sir. John says to me, he says, that it might have been a real ghost after all.”
“And you, boy?” said Charles to Freddy.
Freddy tugged his forelock. “I seed ’im as plain as day, sir.”
He looked to the housekeeper for approval.
“You may go,” said Charles. “Not you, John.”
When the housekeeper and pot-boy had left, Charles said, “You are the only servant who could have impersonated the late Mr. Judd, because of your looks. But obviously I was mistaken. You maygo about your duties. But remember and tell the other servants—if I find the culprit, I will deal with him first before I hand him over to the authorities.”
Chapter Three
She likes her self, yet others hates
For that which in herself she prizes;
And, while she laughs at them, forgets
She is the thing that she despises
.
—
W ILLIAM C ONGREVE
S OMEHOW, THE SISTERS had expected the excitement of a visit to Mannerling to go on forever. But rainy days set in and although the children came daily during the week, neither Charles nor his father came with them. There was only the local assembly to look forward to, and that, the sisters privately thought, would be the usual dull affair. Of course, Isabella would soon be with them and that was at least something exciting. But the damp dreary days made the hours drag by. Barry began to worry about getting them safely to the assembly and in an open carriage, too, for thick fog had started to shroud the countryside at night, along with the persistent drenching rain.
Lady Beverley was once more victim of one of her imaginary illnesses and demanded “absolute quiet,” so there were not even Lizzie’s tunes of the pianoforte to enliven their days. And then, just when it seemed to the sisters that they would be locked in this rainy, foggy, silent grave of BrookfieldHouse forever, the day before the assembly the morning sun appeared and burnt through the fog, leaving the countryside glittering and shining under a clear blue sky.
And Mark and Beth arrived with a letter from the general to say he and his son would be at the assembly, for friends of theirs had come to stay at Mannerling and were anxious to sample the “local excitements.”
Belinda and Lizzie took out gowns and feathers and lace. A party from Mannerling might include some young men!
Rachel said it would amuse her now to go and see all the ladies trying to ensnare the owner of Mannerling.
A package arrived in the mail for Miss Trumble. She opened it and took out several letters and read them with a smile. Then she went in search of Lady Beverley. Her mistress was up and about and looking over several gowns. “What do you think I should wear, Miss Trumble?” she asked when she saw the governess. “I wore this plum velvet for half-mourning, but I fear it looks sadly démodé.”
“There is a pale-blue silk here, very grand, and a good line,” said Miss Trumble, picking up the gown from the bed and shaking out the folds. “With an overdress, the one you have, you know, of darker-blue sarsenet, ’twould be very fetching.”
“Perhaps you have the right of it.”
“My references, my lady.” Miss Trumble held them out.
“Put them on my desk over there. Oh, and Miss Trumble, it will not be necessary for you to accompany us. I do not
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