Granny remembers when the men came and what they done… Here, though, ’tis different. There’s ships too. Oh, I like to see the ships.” Jennet giggled. “And that Captain Pennlyon, Mistress. I said to Mary: ‘I never did see such a fine gentleman,’ and Mary she says the same, Mistress.”
I felt angry suddenly. So the maids were discussing him. I pictured his swaggering past them, perhaps bestowing a kiss on the prettiest, marking her down as possible prey. The man sickened me.
And what was I doing chattering with Jennet!
I said: “Pray put those away quickly, Jennet. Don’t chatter so much. Have you nothing to do with your time?”
Jennet, naturally a little bewildered by my sudden change of manner, hung her head and flushed slightly. I hoped I had conveyed firmly my indifference to Captain Pennlyon.
Jennet had stopped in her work and was looking out of the window down onto the courtyard.
“What’s there, Jennet?” I asked.
“’Tis a young man, Mistress.”
I went and stood beside her. There was indeed a young man; he was dressed in a russet-colored doublet with green hose; his hair was very dark, fitting sleekly about his head, and as we gazed down at him he looked up.
He bowed elaborately.
I called down, “Who are you?”
“Good Mistress,” he cried, “if you are the lady of the house I would have speech with you.”
“Marry!” breathed Jennet. “But he’s handsome!”
I said, “I am not the mistress of the house, but I will come down and see you.”
I went down into the hall, Jennet at my heels, and I opened the iron-studded door. The young man bowed once more, very deferentially.
“The mistress of the house is not at home, I think. Perhaps you could tell me your business.”
“I seek work, my lady.”
“Work?” I cried. “What kind of work?”
“I am not particular as to its nature. I would be grateful for anything that came my way.”
“The management of the household is not in my hands. I am a guest here.”
“Shall I see if I can find the master?” asked Jennet eagerly.
He flashed her a look of gratitude and she colored prettily.
“Please,” he said.
Jennet ran off and I said to the young man, “What is your name?”
“It is Richard Rackell.”
“And from whence do you come?”
“I came from the North. I believed that in the South I could make my way more easily than in my native parts.”
“And now you wish to work here awhile and then go off for fresh adventures?”
“It would depend. Always I look for somewhere where I can settle.”
Men often came looking for work, particularly at the end of the summer at Michaelmas. There was work in the fields, threshing, winnowing, salting down cattle which could not be fed during the winter. But there was something about this young man which was different from those who usually came.
I asked him if he had any experience of harvesting; he said No but that he was good with horses and he hoped there might be a place for him in the stables.
By this time Edward had appeared. He rode into the courtyard, an elegant man who seemed to have grown more slight and delicate-looking in the last days. I suppose I was comparing him with the Pennlyons.
“Edward,” I said, “this young man is looking for work.”
Edward was always courteous and, I believe, eager to do a good turn. He was popular with the work people although I imagined they despised him a little. They were not used to such gentle manners.
He asked the young man into the winter parlor and sent for a tankard of ale to refresh him. Not many prospective employers treated work people thus, but Edward was something of a visionary. He did not believe his fortune placed him above others; he knew that he was more learned, more cultured, more graciously mannered than the farm laborers, but if a man had good manners and some education he would not consider him beneath himself because he was, say, the son of a doctor or lawyer and Edward was the son of a lord.
I felt angry suddenly. So the maids were discussing him. I pictured his swaggering past them, perhaps bestowing a kiss on the prettiest, marking her down as possible prey. The man sickened me.
And what was I doing chattering with Jennet!
I said: “Pray put those away quickly, Jennet. Don’t chatter so much. Have you nothing to do with your time?”
Jennet, naturally a little bewildered by my sudden change of manner, hung her head and flushed slightly. I hoped I had conveyed firmly my indifference to Captain Pennlyon.
Jennet had stopped in her work and was looking out of the window down onto the courtyard.
“What’s there, Jennet?” I asked.
“’Tis a young man, Mistress.”
I went and stood beside her. There was indeed a young man; he was dressed in a russet-colored doublet with green hose; his hair was very dark, fitting sleekly about his head, and as we gazed down at him he looked up.
He bowed elaborately.
I called down, “Who are you?”
“Good Mistress,” he cried, “if you are the lady of the house I would have speech with you.”
“Marry!” breathed Jennet. “But he’s handsome!”
I said, “I am not the mistress of the house, but I will come down and see you.”
I went down into the hall, Jennet at my heels, and I opened the iron-studded door. The young man bowed once more, very deferentially.
“The mistress of the house is not at home, I think. Perhaps you could tell me your business.”
“I seek work, my lady.”
“Work?” I cried. “What kind of work?”
“I am not particular as to its nature. I would be grateful for anything that came my way.”
“The management of the household is not in my hands. I am a guest here.”
“Shall I see if I can find the master?” asked Jennet eagerly.
He flashed her a look of gratitude and she colored prettily.
“Please,” he said.
Jennet ran off and I said to the young man, “What is your name?”
“It is Richard Rackell.”
“And from whence do you come?”
“I came from the North. I believed that in the South I could make my way more easily than in my native parts.”
“And now you wish to work here awhile and then go off for fresh adventures?”
“It would depend. Always I look for somewhere where I can settle.”
Men often came looking for work, particularly at the end of the summer at Michaelmas. There was work in the fields, threshing, winnowing, salting down cattle which could not be fed during the winter. But there was something about this young man which was different from those who usually came.
I asked him if he had any experience of harvesting; he said No but that he was good with horses and he hoped there might be a place for him in the stables.
By this time Edward had appeared. He rode into the courtyard, an elegant man who seemed to have grown more slight and delicate-looking in the last days. I suppose I was comparing him with the Pennlyons.
“Edward,” I said, “this young man is looking for work.”
Edward was always courteous and, I believe, eager to do a good turn. He was popular with the work people although I imagined they despised him a little. They were not used to such gentle manners.
He asked the young man into the winter parlor and sent for a tankard of ale to refresh him. Not many prospective employers treated work people thus, but Edward was something of a visionary. He did not believe his fortune placed him above others; he knew that he was more learned, more cultured, more graciously mannered than the farm laborers, but if a man had good manners and some education he would not consider him beneath himself because he was, say, the son of a doctor or lawyer and Edward was the son of a lord.
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