Page 34 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
A noise startled her, something clattering in the hallway. She gasped, almost pricking her finger.
“Oh! Sorry, my lady,” a female voice apologized hastily as Ophelia looked up. “I didn’t mean to disturb. Just checking if the room’s been cleaned.”
“You didn’t bother me,” Ophelia said politely. She looked at the woman, who had retrieved the broom she’d just dropped, curiously. She had a soft figure, a wide, squarish face, and lovely dark eyes. Her expression was kind, her generous mouth lifted at the corners in a smile. Ophelia thought she must be at least twenty years her senior, maybe more; the dark hair under her cloth bonnet was showing gray at her brow. Her eyes were bracketed with lines.
“You seemed very busy, my lady,” the woman replied. “I’ll let you get back to your work.”
“It’s no bother,” Ophelia answered hastily. “You must be the housekeeper?” she added. She felt as though she’d like to talk to her. It was nice to have someone to talk to in this silent, tension-filled house.
“Yes! Yes, my lady. I’m Mrs. Crane. Honoured to meet you,” the woman added, bobbing her head swiftly.
“Glad to meet you, Mrs. Crane,” Ophelia answered. She felt herself smile. She liked the housekeeper instantly, and something about her open-hearted manner suggested that shecould trust her. “You must be kept busy here.”
“Yes...I am busy. But it’s a fine home. Lord Ivystone, he’s a wonderful employer,” she said hastily, eyes darting about as though she felt uncomfortable.
“I am sure he is,” Ophelia said softly. She felt a little sad. His employees seemed to know more of him than she did. “He seems always busy with the household.”
“He is,” Mrs. Crane replied, nodding to emphasize her words. “He is. Very busy indeed. Takes his job as earl very seriously, he does.”
Ophelia grinned. “He seems to.”
“Always busy with the accounts, with managing the estate,” Mrs. Crane rambled. “Poor man! I don’t know when he has a moment’s rest. He wrote a new budget just last week. I’m doing my best to stick to it.” She smiled shyly.
Ophelia felt a tingle of interest. “Might I see the budget you have?” she asked unsurely.
“Of course!” Mrs. Crane grinned. “Of course, my lady! I’d be glad to discuss it. The old Countess looked at the budget personally every week...or so Mrs. Bricknell said. She was our housekeeper years back. I’d be more than glad of some assistance.”
Ophelia felt her heart soar. “I’d be happy to assist,” she agreed.
Ten minutes later, she found herself downstairs in the kitchen, seated at a wooden table with a pot of tea steaming on it. The room was intensely warm, so much so, that, even without her shawl she was sweating in the heat, and she wished she had worn a gown with summery sleeves.
“...and the weekly budget is ten pounds,” the housekeeper explained. “And we have to feed the horses with that.” She looked at Ophelia helplessly.
“I see.” Ophelia frowned. She let her eye roam across thefigures in the book that Mrs. Crane held out to her. They were written in neat, square handwriting and she found herself studying it with a half-grin, wondering if Owen had written it. She’d never even seen his handwriting before. “And with that, you have five staff to feed too?” She felt her heart twist. It didn’t seem a big budget, compared to the one she had at home.
“Yes, my lady. It’s hard to make the household run.”
“I can understand,” Ophelia said gently. It really was a difficult thing to accomplish. Ophelia tilted her head thoughtfully. Butter was expensive—a shilling per pound. And the other things they had to buy—milk, eggs, sugar...they all added up too. She stared at the page, lost in thought. “You know anyone with chickens?” she asked after a moment.
“My lady?”
“Chickens!” Ophelia felt a wide smile spread across her face. “We could keep them. And maybe a goat? Could we use goat’s milk?”
“A goat!” Mrs. Crane was laughing now. Then she looked at Ophelia. “Brilliant.”
“Really?” Ophelia felt warmth flood her. She hadn’t expected such high praise from the serious housekeeper.
“Really.” The housekeeper nodded intensely. “It’s a wonderful idea. Truly. I could ask my daughter...they have a few hens and sheep. She could tell me if it would be possible. We’d have to tell his lordship, of course...” she trailed off, holding Ophelia’s gaze.
They both started laughing. The idea of keeping a goat at Ivystone was a very funny one.
“I’m sure he would agree to it,” Ophelia said after a moment. “There are acres of land out there. He wouldn’t notice a goat. We could keep it in one of the top fields. Goats can eat bushes too, not just grass.” She tilted her head. She’d read about farming in poetry—the old Roman poets like Virgil and Ovid often referredto pastoral events. She’d never realized how much it made sense to her.
“Now, with the chickens, I estimate we’d save about a pound a week alone,” the housekeeper continued. “Always considering that the chickens need food too. We’d have to buy seed...” she reached for a pencil and started scribbling on a page. Ophelia watched her making calculations with a smile. The housekeeper clearly had a head for numbers. She felt a small brightness sparkle inside her. She had found someone in the household that she already felt she could talk to.
They sat and chatted for a while longer, discussing meal plans that could be used to reduce costs while still ensuring that the household ate well. After an hour, when the clock chimed, the housekeeper pushed back her chair.
“I need to start cooking the lunch,” she told Ophelia swiftly. She smiled warmly at her. “My lady, thank you. I am truly grateful for your time.”
