Page 1 of The Butler and the Bluestocking
Chapter One
Starbrook Village,December 1817
“I really need you with us in York.” The lamplight flickering over the Dowager Countess of Seahaven’s face revealed a determined expression that matched her insistent tone.
“Patience!” More friend than step-daughter to her fourth and last stepmama, Bess knew she need not explain why she felt embarrassed—in truth, frightened to the point of immobility—at nearly all social events.
“I fail to understand why you believe my attendance in York for the Season is so vital. Aside from my discomfort with even the simple country dances like those held at the Harrogate assembly rooms, such events are filled with nonsense and a waste of valuable time that I could spend on my research into the Rosetta Stone.”
She leant toward her work, her delight and wonder spilling in a torrent of words, though she knew Patience had heard it all before. “I promised Mr. Young of the London Royal Society I would transcribe Monsieur Champollion’s ideas about the purpose of the stone’s hieroglyphs and compare them with Mr. Young’s own theories. He hopes my work will verify his theories, or at least explain the differences between his and Champollion’s interpretations.”
The work was intensive and required close examination. Not only did she have to compare each gentleman’s theories with the facsimile she had been given of the stone’s inscriptions. She also needed to make an independent and objective analysis of the Hieroglyphic, Coptic and Greek scripts.
“I have completed my work on the Greek and am about to begin on the Coptic . . .” Bess let her words trail off, when her step-mother, younger by seven years, lifted a hand to her forehead.
Patience dropped her hand. “Dearest, you know I admire your devotion to your scholarly pursuits. However, you must also know that my personal understanding of them is small.”
Bess placed her pen on the blotter and capped the inkwell. Then she wiped the worst of the most recent ink stains from her hands onto her apron and gave Patience her full attention.
“About this idea of going to York, Patience.” Bess gestured at the papers littering her small desk. “I will be much too busy to be of good use with social events. The expense of taking me with you is hardly worth the bother.”
“Normally, I might agree with you, if I did not need your help with the girls still in the schoolroom.”
“They could stay here with me.”
“No.” Patience shook her head. “York provides a wealth of opportunity to further their education in history.”
Bess tucked her lower lip between her teeth. She’d had a London Season, thirteen years ago when she was seventeen and under the reluctant sponsorship of a distant relation to her father. It had been a disaster.
While her sponsor had been well intentioned, she’d been more focused on the social success of her own daughter. The woman had shown little understanding and almost no patience with Bess’ strong love of history and equally strong social ineptitude. With her mother gone, her father, ever self-absorbed, had left Bess to her own devices. Those years between her mother’s death and the London debut had been spent devouring nearly every book in the Seahaven library.
She never learned a proper curtsey nor more than the most rudimentary courtesies. Her conversation was all about Greek philosophers and world history. Her hair had been a coppery red, that only years later deepened into the burnished auburn she knew was her only claim to beauty.
“Dearest, are you listening to me?” Patience placed a gentle hand on Bess’s arm.
“I’m sorry, Patience. Please forgive my wool-gathering, I am listening.” In fact, I am certain my sisters can help with the young ones.”
Patience pursed her lips. “I suppose that might work. Still, you must agree that giving the three middle girls a Season is a good idea.”
“Possibly.” Bess plucked at a loose thread at the end of her sleeve. She had removed her cuffs to avoid staining the precious lace with ink. Her opinion of a Season, whether in London or York, could not be of any help to her stepmother or the rest of the family.
Patience straightened in her chair. “Definitely, since Cousin Rose is giving us her house for the months she is gone on expedition to Egypt. Mrs. Crewe has agreed to come with us and help with the cooking as well as supervising all of us with the housework. Once her brother returns home from the Americas, he will come on as butler, but that could be as late as mid-April.”
“We’ve managed without more servants for years. I’m sure you will all still enjoy yourselves.” Bess picked up the facsimile she’d been working from and frowned.I don’t recall seeing that sigma earlier. I’d best double-check.
“Elizabeth, you cannot be listening to me.” Patience placed a hand on Bess’s arm. “Please stop fussing with that document and pay attention.”
Bess sighed and put the facsimile aside. “I am sorry Patience. I do not mean to neglect you, but you know how vital this project is to me. I may actually be able to share credit with Mr. Young when he presents his findings to the Royal Society, and the money it brings on completion will pay Mrs. Crewe’s salary for the next year.”
“For the income, we are all truly grateful, and I am certain you must be thrilled at the prospect of recognition. That has been your hope since before we met. But your sisters have important hopes and needs too, and your help in getting Josefina, Iris and Ivy fired off is essential.”
Bess pressed her lips together. “Why?”
“First, we cannot possibly rent this house to help defray expenses, if you are still living here.”
“I am certain our vicar and his wife will be happy to house me while you are gone. Especially if I offer to help with the housework.”
“Second,” continued Patience. “As I have already said, someone must see that the younger girls continue their education.”
