Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

“But surely you remember what he was like yourself, Beth? After all, you were nine when he left, and he was all but uncontrollable by then.”
    Beth put her head in her hands. Rather than smooth the way for Richard to take over the house, she seemed to have made things worse. All the servants who had not known Richard as a child now looked more alarmed than they had when she’d called the meeting. She tried again.
    “Well, I acknowledge he was probably wild, but he was only sixteen when he left. He’s been in the army for thirteen years. I’m sure it’s made a man of him, taught him honour and respect. He couldn’t have got to be a sergeant otherwise.”
    “I don’t know about that. I’ve not such a high opinion of the Elector’s army myself,” said John wryly.
    His comment reminded Beth of something else she had to address before the evening was over.
    “The fact is,” she said practically, “he has come back, and he is the master now, although he’s bound to ask my advice. I’m sure I will have influence and I’m hoping to persuade him to let me continue to run the household, which it’s customary for the mistress to do. In the meantime all we can do is to make him feel welcome, and put the past behind us. I suggest that you obey all his orders until he’s more secure. It will probably be better to be more formal with him than you are with me, call him Sir rather than Richard, that sort of thing. And don’t offer him any advice or suggestions as to how things could be done. I welcome them, but I don’t think he will – at the moment.”
    The look on everyone’s faces said that they doubted he would ever appreciate servants telling him how things should be done, but they all agreed to give him a chance. John, and Ben, the boy of all work, whose job it was to clean shoes, light fires and fetch water amongst other things, now got up to leave, but Beth stopped them.
    “Wait a minute, there’s one more thing, which may be obvious to you all, but I need to say it anyway. I think we’ll have to stop our weekly discussions about the news, for now.”
    Everyone moaned in protest. When Beth’s father had fallen ill three years before, she had taken to reading the newspapers to him in an attempt to get him to renew his interest in life and current affairs. She had then extended this practice to the servants, and every week an evening was set aside, when Beth would come down to the kitchen with the newspapers and topical issues would be discussed.
    Everybody including Beth looked forward to this, she particularly so in the last months of her father’s life, when he had refused to leave his bedroom at all and had insisted that the shutters be kept permanently closed. Much as Beth had loved her father, it had been a great relief to escape from the stuffy dark confines of the sickroom to the airy kitchen, with its stone flagged floor and light, whitewashed walls. A fire burned constantly in the wrought iron grate, which was used for cooking and for heating water. Rows of gleaming copper pots and utensils hung on the walls, warmly reflecting the firelight. The room always smelt welcoming, a combination of freshly baked bread, roasting meat, and the delicate fragrance of the bunches of drying herbs which hung from the ceiling.
    The servants all assembled here at mealtimes, sitting on benches around the scrubbed wooden table to eat and discuss the events of the day. On Wednesday evenings Beth would eat with them, and once the meal was over and Jane, having finished her work, could sit with them, they would attack the newspapers with relish. Their debates were lively, to say the least. This was partly because Henry Cunningham had given his staff access to an education. They could all read well, and both Thomas and Jane could write a fair hand, too. They had also been encouraged to think for themselves and take an interest in the outside world. Whilst remaining the best of friends, the servants were divided in