basket laden with soiled linens, a young lad in a leather apron sweeping the stone flagway leading to one of the outbuildings, a weather-beaten man in a slouch hat carrying a rake, and an old woman dressed in black carrying a covered basket. Grooms exercised horses, dogs raced across the open ground, and a cat stalked a fat winter wren resting on a low wall. There scarcely could have been more activity in the yard of the busiest London coaching inn.
The knock of the maid at her door roused her from her absorbed interest. "Come in!"
Emmie backed into the room bearing a large tray.
"What's this?"
"Breakfast, miss."
"Breakfast! All this!" Jocelyn exclaimed, waving her hand at the array of covered dishes and pots on the tray.
"Yes, miss. I didn't know what you'd like, so I brought a bit of everything, I did. And as soon as you've eaten, Miss Barnes will be up to dress you, she says."
"How is Lady Mary this morning?"
Emmie shook her head. "Poorly, she is. Up most o' the night, I hear, sneezin' and snifflin'. Wouldn't take no laudanum, nor the medicine the doctor left, until my lord wur called. He made her sure enough." She shook her head. "My lord, he wur that determined. Fearful lest he lose his sister as he done his wife. But my Lady Mary, she's sleepin' now, her maid says. And what would ya like, miss? Coffee or hot chocolate?"
"Hot chocolate," Jocelyn said slowly, her mind engaged in considering all the maid said. Then she recalled herself and smiled at the maid. "And thank you, Emmie. I promise I shall not inconvenience you again in this manner. All this food, and the size of that tray!"
"No bother, miss. 'Tis a blessed change it is to see visitors again at Bayneville, y'know. And my lord said to let ya sleep late after yur travels yesterday."
"What time is breakfast normally served, Emmie?"
"Nine, miss."
"Nine!" Jocelyn burst out, then laughed. "I see this is another difference with which I shall have to accustom myself between the city and country. At home I seldom rise from my bed before nine. No one does."
"I've heard tales, miss."
Jocelyn laughed again. "I'm sure you have. Only don't believe half of it," she said, winking. "Mmm, this chocolate is delicious. I'd been noticing before you arrived how busy the estate is," she said, glancing back out the window.
Emmie laughed. "We're not busy, miss. 'Tis winter. Not like it be in summer—or at harvest! Lud, miss, it's an anthill, we are. But pardon, miss, I shouldn't be standin' jawin' with ya like this."
"Why not? I enjoy it. And with Lady Mary ill I must take my enjoyment where I can. Or shall you be missed belowstairs?"
"No, miss, that I won't be. Until t'other guests arrive, I'm assigned to ya."
"Splendid! Can you tell me more of the estate? As I shall be left to my own devices until Lady Mary recovers, is there anything I should particularly see?"
"Oh, yes, miss!" Emmie said, her eyes gleaming. "The boxwood and yew garden. 'Tis most amazin' the shapes the gardeners cut everything. 'Tis artists they are to be sure as well as good gardeners. In their glass gardens—greenhouses they call 'em—they grow flowers and fruit in winter! And visit our chapel, beautiful it be with paintings and carvings—for all of us, my lord says. Reverend and Mrs. Stemple live in the whitewashed cottage just on the far side of the chapel. Happy they'd be to show it to ya, I'm thinking."
Jocelyn laughed. "I've met few men of the cloth who didn't want to share their church with guests. I think that is an excellent idea. Thank you, Emmie."
Emmie blushed scarlet, so she busied herself straightening the room in order to hide her pleasure.
Two hours passed before Jocelyn had an opportunity to leave her room. After Emmie removed the breakfast dishes, Miss Barnes descended upon Jocelyn like the headmistress of a boarding school upon a new midyear student whose parent was a wealthy, influential peer. Not even for London entertainments was Miss Barnes ever so exact and demanding
The knock of the maid at her door roused her from her absorbed interest. "Come in!"
Emmie backed into the room bearing a large tray.
"What's this?"
"Breakfast, miss."
"Breakfast! All this!" Jocelyn exclaimed, waving her hand at the array of covered dishes and pots on the tray.
"Yes, miss. I didn't know what you'd like, so I brought a bit of everything, I did. And as soon as you've eaten, Miss Barnes will be up to dress you, she says."
"How is Lady Mary this morning?"
Emmie shook her head. "Poorly, she is. Up most o' the night, I hear, sneezin' and snifflin'. Wouldn't take no laudanum, nor the medicine the doctor left, until my lord wur called. He made her sure enough." She shook her head. "My lord, he wur that determined. Fearful lest he lose his sister as he done his wife. But my Lady Mary, she's sleepin' now, her maid says. And what would ya like, miss? Coffee or hot chocolate?"
"Hot chocolate," Jocelyn said slowly, her mind engaged in considering all the maid said. Then she recalled herself and smiled at the maid. "And thank you, Emmie. I promise I shall not inconvenience you again in this manner. All this food, and the size of that tray!"
"No bother, miss. 'Tis a blessed change it is to see visitors again at Bayneville, y'know. And my lord said to let ya sleep late after yur travels yesterday."
"What time is breakfast normally served, Emmie?"
"Nine, miss."
"Nine!" Jocelyn burst out, then laughed. "I see this is another difference with which I shall have to accustom myself between the city and country. At home I seldom rise from my bed before nine. No one does."
"I've heard tales, miss."
Jocelyn laughed again. "I'm sure you have. Only don't believe half of it," she said, winking. "Mmm, this chocolate is delicious. I'd been noticing before you arrived how busy the estate is," she said, glancing back out the window.
Emmie laughed. "We're not busy, miss. 'Tis winter. Not like it be in summer—or at harvest! Lud, miss, it's an anthill, we are. But pardon, miss, I shouldn't be standin' jawin' with ya like this."
"Why not? I enjoy it. And with Lady Mary ill I must take my enjoyment where I can. Or shall you be missed belowstairs?"
"No, miss, that I won't be. Until t'other guests arrive, I'm assigned to ya."
"Splendid! Can you tell me more of the estate? As I shall be left to my own devices until Lady Mary recovers, is there anything I should particularly see?"
"Oh, yes, miss!" Emmie said, her eyes gleaming. "The boxwood and yew garden. 'Tis most amazin' the shapes the gardeners cut everything. 'Tis artists they are to be sure as well as good gardeners. In their glass gardens—greenhouses they call 'em—they grow flowers and fruit in winter! And visit our chapel, beautiful it be with paintings and carvings—for all of us, my lord says. Reverend and Mrs. Stemple live in the whitewashed cottage just on the far side of the chapel. Happy they'd be to show it to ya, I'm thinking."
Jocelyn laughed. "I've met few men of the cloth who didn't want to share their church with guests. I think that is an excellent idea. Thank you, Emmie."
Emmie blushed scarlet, so she busied herself straightening the room in order to hide her pleasure.
Two hours passed before Jocelyn had an opportunity to leave her room. After Emmie removed the breakfast dishes, Miss Barnes descended upon Jocelyn like the headmistress of a boarding school upon a new midyear student whose parent was a wealthy, influential peer. Not even for London entertainments was Miss Barnes ever so exact and demanding
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