Milborough’s,
their nearest neighbor, their garden was the most beautiful one in
Hinderwell—or Runswick Bay, for that matter—and it was all on account of her
dear mistress’s efforts.
Gladys looked across the side garden to the big cottage next
door. She thought she caught the twitching of the curtains and knew that Mr.
Milborough had been watching Miss Amelia again. That man, she thought,
carrying the dishwater outside to be thrown beneath the yew tree, he needs
to come over and meet Miss Amelia instead of making eyes at her through gaps in
net curtains. And his manservant, Angus McLeod—daft as a brush, that one. A
great gormless hulk of a man better fit for farming than as a gentleman’s
servant.
“Miss Amelia?” Gladys called. Her mistress turned from where
she contemplated the bank of roses at the end of the garden.
“Yes, Mrs. Edley?”
“‘Tis past time for me to go to the butcher’s. Will you be
all right?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
Gladys didn’t like to leave her on her own but errands had
to be run. “I’ll be chuffed if I can get me some calf’s liver.”
“Do not trouble yourself, Mrs. Edley.”
“You know what the doctor’s said, mum. You’re to have calf’s
liver once a week, sithee.”
“Yes, I see.” Her mistress laughed softly, clearly pleased
to be making inroads into proper Yorkshire speech.
Gladys nodded and went to collect her shopping basket. When
she stepped out of their roomy home, containing as it did a front parlor, a
dining parlor, a workroom, a big kitchen, two decent bedrooms and two small
ones, plus her own rooms in the attic, the woman walked straight up to Angus
McLeod, who stood at the end of the front garden as though waiting for her.
When she reached the gate Angus opened it for her. “There
thou art, thou gormless lump,” Gladys said by way of greeting. She passed
through and stood before him, folding her arms under her ample bosom. “I’ve
summat to tell thee.”
“Mrs. Edley,” Angus said through his teeth. She was a
comely, buxom woman, but she had a mouth on her that would curl a donkey’s
tail. “I’ve somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to speak with ye about too.”
“I’ll be going first,” Gladys informed him.
He lifted his soft cap and indicated that they should begin
to walk toward the market. Best to let her have her own way, he thought .
“It’s to do with your master and me mistress.”
“Aye?”
“She needs an ‘usband…”
“And he needs a wife,” he finished. She smiled and looked up
at him, placing one finger alongside her nose. He repeated her gesture and they
both nodded emphatically and a pact was formed.
Chapter Two
Thaddeus, his shirt sleeves rolled up above his elbows and
wearing a green gardening apron of his own, puttered about among his rose
specimens at the bottom of the garden. He wore a woven straw hat too, but his
had a red-checkered cotton band around the crown above the large floppy brim.
It wasn’t a stylish hat and he shuddered to think what his father would say if
he saw him, but he had no care for style anymore. Living in Hinderwell allowed
him to do as he pleased. Other than the occasional invitation to the Earl of
Mulgrave’s home near Whitby and tea with the vicar every second Sunday, he was
left mostly to his own devices.
The local squire had an interest in horticulture and so
would drop in, usually inconveniently, and expect him to discuss the squire’s
efforts to perfect a stringless variety of Phaseolus vulgaris —the common
French green bean. This might have been a fascinating discussion if the squire
actually knew what he was about, but unfortunately the squire mostly boasted
and puffed of his near successes.
Occasionally Thaddeus’ family came for a visit and once a
year he joined his cousin, Lord Leakesly, for a few weeks hunting close to
Thirske. Gay to the point of dissipation, in fact, he thought with a
chuckle.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Thaddeus
their nearest neighbor, their garden was the most beautiful one in
Hinderwell—or Runswick Bay, for that matter—and it was all on account of her
dear mistress’s efforts.
Gladys looked across the side garden to the big cottage next
door. She thought she caught the twitching of the curtains and knew that Mr.
Milborough had been watching Miss Amelia again. That man, she thought,
carrying the dishwater outside to be thrown beneath the yew tree, he needs
to come over and meet Miss Amelia instead of making eyes at her through gaps in
net curtains. And his manservant, Angus McLeod—daft as a brush, that one. A
great gormless hulk of a man better fit for farming than as a gentleman’s
servant.
“Miss Amelia?” Gladys called. Her mistress turned from where
she contemplated the bank of roses at the end of the garden.
“Yes, Mrs. Edley?”
“‘Tis past time for me to go to the butcher’s. Will you be
all right?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
Gladys didn’t like to leave her on her own but errands had
to be run. “I’ll be chuffed if I can get me some calf’s liver.”
“Do not trouble yourself, Mrs. Edley.”
“You know what the doctor’s said, mum. You’re to have calf’s
liver once a week, sithee.”
“Yes, I see.” Her mistress laughed softly, clearly pleased
to be making inroads into proper Yorkshire speech.
Gladys nodded and went to collect her shopping basket. When
she stepped out of their roomy home, containing as it did a front parlor, a
dining parlor, a workroom, a big kitchen, two decent bedrooms and two small
ones, plus her own rooms in the attic, the woman walked straight up to Angus
McLeod, who stood at the end of the front garden as though waiting for her.
When she reached the gate Angus opened it for her. “There
thou art, thou gormless lump,” Gladys said by way of greeting. She passed
through and stood before him, folding her arms under her ample bosom. “I’ve
summat to tell thee.”
“Mrs. Edley,” Angus said through his teeth. She was a
comely, buxom woman, but she had a mouth on her that would curl a donkey’s
tail. “I’ve somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to speak with ye about too.”
“I’ll be going first,” Gladys informed him.
He lifted his soft cap and indicated that they should begin
to walk toward the market. Best to let her have her own way, he thought .
“It’s to do with your master and me mistress.”
“Aye?”
“She needs an ‘usband…”
“And he needs a wife,” he finished. She smiled and looked up
at him, placing one finger alongside her nose. He repeated her gesture and they
both nodded emphatically and a pact was formed.
Chapter Two
Thaddeus, his shirt sleeves rolled up above his elbows and
wearing a green gardening apron of his own, puttered about among his rose
specimens at the bottom of the garden. He wore a woven straw hat too, but his
had a red-checkered cotton band around the crown above the large floppy brim.
It wasn’t a stylish hat and he shuddered to think what his father would say if
he saw him, but he had no care for style anymore. Living in Hinderwell allowed
him to do as he pleased. Other than the occasional invitation to the Earl of
Mulgrave’s home near Whitby and tea with the vicar every second Sunday, he was
left mostly to his own devices.
The local squire had an interest in horticulture and so
would drop in, usually inconveniently, and expect him to discuss the squire’s
efforts to perfect a stringless variety of Phaseolus vulgaris —the common
French green bean. This might have been a fascinating discussion if the squire
actually knew what he was about, but unfortunately the squire mostly boasted
and puffed of his near successes.
Occasionally Thaddeus’ family came for a visit and once a
year he joined his cousin, Lord Leakesly, for a few weeks hunting close to
Thirske. Gay to the point of dissipation, in fact, he thought with a
chuckle.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Thaddeus
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