"Mr. Ludlow is requestin' ter see you in the drawin' room, Mrs. Notley." The gleeful way Sally spoke told Cora that whatever her employer wished to speak to her about would not be good.
Cora set aside the mallet she was using to pound sugar and opened and closed her hands, trying to relieve the soreness in her palms and fingers. Already calluses were beginning to form. Her weary body ached in places she did not think it could ache, and it had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to pull herself from her bed that morning. It was a good kind of weary—the kind that made her too tired to fear what was to come.
Her one thought of What have I done now? was more lackluster than concerned.
Cora's first week of work had been disastrous. It seemed she was destined to learn the proper way of things by doing them completely wrong. On the day she'd gone to market, she had made what she thought was an excellent bargain on a particularly tender cut of beef, but upon returning to Tanglewood, Mrs. Caddy had taken one look at the parcel and tossed it into the trash. She proceeded to give Cora an earful about wasting good shillings on meat not fit for even the animals. She did not explain why it was unfit for humans or animals, merely berated Cora for several minutes, as though a sound lecture would keep her from purchasing bad meat again. It was Watts who had pulled her aside in the end, offering a kind tutorial about the color and qualities she needed to look for in fresh meat and how one negotiated a fair price for it. Cora's esteem for Watts grew a great deal after that.
Not quite a day later, a once-white tablecloth she had taken upon herself to wash had emerged from the water with a decidedly lavender hue to it. Lavender, in a bachelor's household! When Cora turned to Watts for help, he'd reached into the tub and fished out a handful of soggy flower petals, holding them out for her inspection.
"The petals might give the cloth a pleasing scent, but surely you know that the color will bleed off the petals and dye the cloth permanently. I'm afraid it will be impossible to return this to its former white now."
Cora had found it necessary to defend herself. "I may be inexperienced, Watts, but I am not a widgeon. I know how cloth is dyed and I did not add those petals to the wash basin. I merely mixed in soap and a bit of that powdery substance in that jar, like the laundry maid taught me to do."
"Perhaps next time you should make sure there are no petals in the basin before you begin."
Cora had almost told him the tub had been clean as well—she had made sure of it—but then she recalled that she had not shaken out the cloth before adding it to the water. Some of the purple chrysanthemums she had used as table decorations the night before must have been carried away with it, so it was her doing after all.
Cora stared down at the soggy and ruined cloth. Perhaps Mr. Ludlow would come to enjoy this particular shade of lavender? The sympathetic look on Watts's face had not given her much hope.
Unfortunately, that was not the end of her misfortunes. She had also burned her first attempt at pastries and filled the kitchen with an awful-smelling smoke that lingered in the air the remainder of the day, and, according to Mrs. Caddy, gave every meal a pungent flavor. After that, there had been the broken vase, the kitchen curtain that had caught fire when she placed a burning candle too close to it, and her first attempt at a restorative tea gone very wrong. Mr. Ludlow had sent the tea back directly, along with a note for Cora that read:
The tea may not have helped the ache in my head but it certainly restored my stamina. I have never scuttled from my bed so quickly.
Cora wasn't sure what to think of such a missive—at least not until Harry had taken it upon himself to sample the tea. He immediately ran to the sink and spit it out.
That is what he meant by scuttle, Cora thought dismally.
"What the blimey did you put in that?" he gasped, downing a mug of ale to ward off the flavor.
Cora had later discovered she'd added cayenne and not cinnamon as the recipe had called for. But in her defense, the two bottles had been shelved incorrectly, and they looked so much alike that she had not realized the difference until she had dipped her finger into the tea and tasted it herself. The heat that burned her tongue told her something other than cinnamon had been added.
That had been yesterday, and now, only hours before her first afternoon off, Cora was being summoned for yet another problem. Why else would Mr. Ludlow be requesting an audience with her at this time of morning? If everything was running as it should, he would leave her to it.
Outside Mr. Ludlow's study, Cora squared her shoulders and walked in, mustering all the energy she still possessed.
Mr. Ludlow was seated in a large wingback chair, staring at a tray of sweet rolls that Mrs. Caddy had made earlier.
"Do have a seat, Mrs. Notley," he said, gesturing to the armchair across from him.
Cora sank down slowly, eyeing him with apprehension. He didn't seem angry or annoyed, merely thoughtful. Was that good or bad? Perhaps he only wanted to discuss upcoming plans with her.
He picked up a plate containing one of the sweet rolls and held it out to Cora. "Might I offer you some refreshment?"
She shook her head slowly, thinking how very odd of him to say such a thing to his housekeeper. Mrs. Caddy had made those for visitors, not housekeepers. "No thank you, sir. I am not hungry."
"Mrs. Caddy is quite famous for her sweet rolls in these parts. You really ought to at least try one."
Thus persuaded, Cora accepted the plate and took a small bite of the roll. The bread was light and wonderful, but the blackberry preserves—the ones Cora had made only two days prior—gave it an overpowering salty flavor that caused her to wince and almost choke. She had to force herself to swallow the bite and immediately wished for a cup of something to wash it down.
Mr. Ludlow offered her some tea, which she accepted gratefully.
"Those preserves are dreadful," she finally spluttered, her face heating in shame.
He leaned against the back of his chair and rested his hands on the arms. "I'm glad we are in agreement on that. I might have thought it was only me, but my recent visitor, Mr. Shepherd, seemed to have similar thoughts about the roll, considering one bite was all he took as well."
Cora straightened at the news. It felt like ages since she had seen the Shepherds, and the mere mention of their name made her yearn for more.
"Mr. Shepherd was here?" she asked, belatedly realizing how odd her question must have sounded.
Mr. Ludlow lifted his brow. "Do you know him?"
Cora hesitated with her answer, choosing her words carefully. "I know he is well liked by his servants." Katy had rambled on about her employers and how dear they were to all in the household. In the short duration Cora had known the Shepherds, they had become dear to her as well. "Sir, I am truly sorry about the preserves. I do not know what happened."
"I would venture a guess that you mistook the salt for sugar," he said.
"Yes, I had gathered as much as well," said Cora. What she didn't understand was how the salt came to be in the sugar jar, for she was certain she had read the label correctly—or, at least she thought she had. Apparently she could never be certain about anything anymore. It only served to get her into trouble.
Would this be the end of it, then? Had Mr. Ludlow finally had enough of her, and after only one week? Cora sat with her fingers clasped on her lap, waiting for him to tell her as much. But he continued to gaze at the tray of sweet rolls while rubbing his chin in thought.
Finally, his eyes looked her way, and he quirked an eyebrow. "What, no preemptive leaving this time?"
"I have not been dismissed, sir," she said.
The edges of his mouth raised slightly—not enough for his dimple to appear, but enough for Cora to notice that he approved of her answer. "So you can be taught," he said.
"Eventually," she answered.
He emitted a small chuckle. "Glad to hear it. I have invited a few business associates to Tanglewood on Friday next and would very much like everything to run as smoothly as possible. They will be here the entire weekend."
She blinked at him a few times before his words registered, and she realized she was not being relieved of her duties—at least not at this moment.
"I understand, sir." Cora swallowed, also realizing the pressure she would be under to see that everything went well for his guests. Had he said an entire weekend? "I will be sure to sample all of the food before it is served to you and your guests."
"I would appreciate that," he said.
Cora nodded, waiting for him to say that she could leave.
As though reading her thoughts, he added, "You may go, Mrs. Notley."
She immediately stood and made for the door, but he called her back as soon as her fingers touched the knob.
"Mrs. Notley, would you be so kind as to take this tray of sweet rolls with you?"
Her face suffused with heat. She should have thought of that herself. "Certainly, Mr. Ludlow."
"It would probably be wise for you to not give Mrs. Caddy an opportunity to taste those as well."
"I had already drawn that conclusion, sir," said Cora as she took the tray. "I thought the pigs might enjoy them."
He smiled. "I'm sure Mrs. Caddy would be gratified to know that her morning's labors went to such worthy creatures."
"I will not tell her if you will not." Cora worried she was overstepping the bounds by saying as much, but from the glint of humor in his eyes, he did not think her remark out of line.
"And if the pigs should decide they want sweet—or rather, salty—rolls every morning?" he asked.
"Considering I made a dozen jars of these particular preserves, that should not be a problem." Cora frowned at the reminder, wondering how she would remove all traces of the salty fruit without Mrs. Caddy noticing.
Mr. Ludlow barked out a laugh. His dimple appeared, causing her stomach to twist into pleasurable knots. He was so very handsome. "Perhaps when the pigs go to slaughter, the meat will already contain enough salt for preservation."
"Sir, you should not say such vulgar things in front of a lady," she teased, enjoying the banter far more than she should. The moment his expression became quizzical, she realized her slip of the tongue.
"Are you a lady, Mrs. Notley?"
She had not meant to imply such a thing, nor had she meant to strike up what he might consider a flirtation. She blamed her wayward tongue on her exhaustion and knew she would need to guard herself better in the future.
"I am a housekeeper, sir. That is all." With the tray balanced between her arms, she turned and quit the room. Thankfully, he did not call her back.
When Cora returned to the kitchen after feeding all traces of the salty rolls to the pigs, she spotted a maid placing what remained of the rolls into a basket with Watts overseeing her progress. He caught Cora's eye and gave her a hint of a knowing smile.
"Mrs. Notley," he said. "I am glad you are here at last. Mr. Ludlow would like these rolls, along with your… flavorful preserves, to be taken to those who might have more need of them than we."
Cora was more than happy to approve this plan and made a mental note to thank Mr. Ludlow for his thoughtfulness the next time she saw him.
"I don't know why they all need ter go," grumbled Mrs. Caddy. She cast a longing look at the basket and added, "Mr. Ludlow usually gives us what's left."
"He is sorry that he cannot do so with this lot," said Watts. "But if it is not too much trouble, Mrs. Caddy, he has asked that you make some of your wonderful Banbury cakes to share with the staff as a replacement, so long as you remember to use cinnamon and cloves and not cayenne." Watts gave Cora a subtle wink, and she found herself stifling a conspiratorial smile. He had come to her aid more than once in his kind, fatherly way, and she could not deny that she was growing vastly fond of him.
Mrs. Caddy did not recognize the comment as a rib and immediately bristled. "I've never mistaken cayenne for cinnamon!"
"Are those the sweet rolls made with Mrs. Notley's blackberry preserves?" Sally asked when she entered the room. Normally, the mere sound of her voice grated on Cora's nerves, but this time it was a welcome interruption—at least until Sally snatched one of the rolls from the basket.
"I think I'll have a taste." She took a small bite and immediately spit it out, uttering a sort of snorting noise that sounded most unladylike. Cora might have laughed if not for the sour look on Sally's face. "Gads, what did you do ter those blackberries? Drown them in salt?"
Cora thought the comment rather tame for her. "They'll last a great deal longer now, will they not?"
Sally glowered. "I thought even simple folk know the difference between salt and sugar."
Cora sighed, wondering if Sally had any sense of humor at all. How dreary life would be if one could not see the comedy in situations such as these. For just a moment, she found herself pitying Sally.
"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Caddy's short legs strode over. "What's wrong with me rolls?"
"Nothin' at all, I'm sure." Sally directed a look of triumph at Cora. "It's Mrs. Notley's preserves that's the problem."
Mrs. Caddy took a bite, and her mouth immediately twisted in revulsion, looking a bit like a mound of dough that had been punched down in the middle.
She glared at Cora. "You knew, and you were goin' ter stand there and let Watts deliver these rolls—my rolls—to the villagers so they'll think me cookin's gone to pots?"
"Of course not," said Watts. "These are going to the goats, not the villagers."
"Goats!" Mrs. Caddy cried, her face going red.
Cora cringed, wondering what Mrs. Caddy would say if she discovered the first offerings had already been given to the pigs.
"Goats will eat anything," said Watts good-naturedly. "But if you consider that too wasteful, perhaps you have a better suggestion?"
Mrs. Caddy's pudgy fingers formed fists as she glared at the butler. "I think Mrs. Notley should be made ter eat every last crumb. 'Appen then she'll learn ter make preserves."
Watts did not appear to like the comment. His eyes narrowed, and his voice became hard and firm. "I find it rather interesting, Mrs. Caddy, that you did not taste the preserves before this moment. You usually help yourself to quite a few samples of the food as you're preparing it. One might think you sent those sweet rolls up to Mr. Ludlow and his guest knowing what they were."
"How dare you be accusin' me of such things!" Mrs. Caddy seethed, her face becoming an unnatural shade of purple.
"And how dare you expect perfection from a woman who is not as experienced as you. I'll wager your first attempts at making sweet rolls did not go so well either. Perhaps if you remembered that, and realized that Mrs. Notley is doing her best, you would be kinder and more helpful so that she might learn her duties better instead of being made to feel worse at every turn."
Mrs. Caddy had nothing to say to this. She clenched her jaw and stormed back to work, chopping the vegetables with gusto. Cora resisted the urge to break into applause and throw her arms around Watts. He had quieted the ruckus with a handful of sentences, and even Sally seemed to think it best to skulk away. Cora hoped that meant the subject of salty blackberry preserves would be forever put to rest.
She sent Watts a smile, mouthed "thank you," and grabbed a bucket off the counter with the intent to pick more blackberries. Even though she would be free to leave in another hour, Cora wanted to try to right her latest wrong. If she had to spend a few hours of her afternoon off making more blackberry preserves, so be it. With any luck, all would go well and she could still pop in at Knotting Tree for a quick visit with the Shepherds. After this week, she needed to see their kind faces again.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted Alice, the still room maid, scrubbing a pot at the sink. Cora hesitated at the door, not sure what to make of the girl. It was apparent she was a hard worker, but she spoke only when spoken to and had always been timid in her replies. Not wishing to cause her undue distress, Cora had mostly left her to her duties while she tried to learn hers, but watching the girl hunch over the sink, Cora wondered if Alice also felt like an outsider.
"Alice," Cora called, making the poor girl jump and spin around. She had an anxious look about her as though she feared being scolded for scrubbing pots.
Cora picked up another bucket and held it out to her. "I am wondering if you might venture out with me to pick some more blackberries. It's a lovely day, and I think the outdoors will do us both some good. I could also use your help making more preserves, if you'd be so kind. Something tells me that you know a great deal more about the difference between salt and sugar than I."
The girl's expression relaxed a little, and she cautiously accepted the bucket. Cora took it as a good sign and smiled as she led the girl outside. Perhaps today would not be the culmination of a dreadful week after all. Rather, it would be a happy new beginning.