be gracious?”
“Cannot read.” The words were spoke so faint I scarcely heard them.
“Nor I.” The second maid added her confession so quickly it might have been one and the same.
“Cannot?—but surely . . .”
The one shook her head as did the other.
“Cannot read? But how do you hope to manage accounts? How do you hope to correspond with your own family?”
“We—” The first maid glanced at the others. “I read enough to do that, of course, but not sufficiently to . . .”
“Read aloud?”
“Nay, your lady.”
“And the rest of you?”
They shook their heads with wide eyes and none of the shame they ought to have felt.
Well. If I could not be predominant by birth, I found myself to be preeminent by education. I commanded Nicholas to find my maids a tutor. And I made it known that until they could read in my presence, I would not have them. For what good were attendants if they could not fulfill my wishes?
I ordered the door of my chamber shut withal and then I fell upon my bed, fully clothed. Sweet relief! It felt as if a millstone had been loosed from my shoulders.
But the maids were the least of my problems. The windows of Brustleigh had continued to haunt me. To their number had been added still more. In order to suffer such luxury, those of us living on the inside were obliged to cover them from wandering eyes and pretend they did not exist. I was happy to do so until winter’s chills began to seep in earnest around their panes. And then, I scarce could stand them.
The cold was constant and so chill that I could stand three paces from a fire and still see my breath. I wore all the clothes I could, adding a waistcoat under my bodice, wool stockings, thicker shifts, and several old coarse wool petticoats. And still I felt the cold. I would have given my feather bed in exchange for a closet of a room with a fireplace and no windows, exactly the sort of room Joan had, but it would not have been seemly. And I could hardly have fit all my maids within it.
By February it was too chill to do my needlework, and I was too numbed by the cold to care. Quite simply, I lived through each day only for the pleasure of retiring to the warmth of my bed. Supper proved to be the worst part of my day. It might have been borne had we kept a large table, but with only me, the maids, and on occasion the earl, there were not bodies enough to heat the vastness of the room. And the table, in the middle of that great hall, was too far from the warmth of any of the fires. The food, as always, was cold by the time it reached our plate, but that winter I was grieved by that common offense. To counter the trembling of my limbs, I drank ale in abundance.
I had just wiped my nose with my sodden handkerchief one forenoon when the earl and his steward entered the chamber.
“You have the rheum?”
“Nay. Why?”
“Your nose drips.”
“My nose drips constant. If I rubbed it every time there was a drop, I would soon have no nose left.” I was too cold to give any care to my words. The chill had embittered me.
“You are ill then?”
“I am cold .”
The earl glanced toward the fire. The flames blazed as high as the mantel.
“Shall I find a physician to attend you?”
“Nay. I only ask that every window of this place be dashed to pieces and brick put up in their place. I might as well move in with a crofter, for they already live little better than out of doors.”
“You cannot mean it. This is the grandest estate in all of England!”
“And the coldest! I would sacrifice finery for warmth in an instant.”
“Get up, walk the gallery. Walks are what it is meant for.”
“I am so frigid that the thought of moving makes me colder still.
Leave me in peace. I shall thaw in the spring with the fields.”
“Why have you not asked for a warming box?”
I lifted my skirts enough to allow him to view the box upon which my feet rested.
“And still you complain?”
“Have you a box for my nose?”
The
“Cannot read.” The words were spoke so faint I scarcely heard them.
“Nor I.” The second maid added her confession so quickly it might have been one and the same.
“Cannot?—but surely . . .”
The one shook her head as did the other.
“Cannot read? But how do you hope to manage accounts? How do you hope to correspond with your own family?”
“We—” The first maid glanced at the others. “I read enough to do that, of course, but not sufficiently to . . .”
“Read aloud?”
“Nay, your lady.”
“And the rest of you?”
They shook their heads with wide eyes and none of the shame they ought to have felt.
Well. If I could not be predominant by birth, I found myself to be preeminent by education. I commanded Nicholas to find my maids a tutor. And I made it known that until they could read in my presence, I would not have them. For what good were attendants if they could not fulfill my wishes?
I ordered the door of my chamber shut withal and then I fell upon my bed, fully clothed. Sweet relief! It felt as if a millstone had been loosed from my shoulders.
But the maids were the least of my problems. The windows of Brustleigh had continued to haunt me. To their number had been added still more. In order to suffer such luxury, those of us living on the inside were obliged to cover them from wandering eyes and pretend they did not exist. I was happy to do so until winter’s chills began to seep in earnest around their panes. And then, I scarce could stand them.
The cold was constant and so chill that I could stand three paces from a fire and still see my breath. I wore all the clothes I could, adding a waistcoat under my bodice, wool stockings, thicker shifts, and several old coarse wool petticoats. And still I felt the cold. I would have given my feather bed in exchange for a closet of a room with a fireplace and no windows, exactly the sort of room Joan had, but it would not have been seemly. And I could hardly have fit all my maids within it.
By February it was too chill to do my needlework, and I was too numbed by the cold to care. Quite simply, I lived through each day only for the pleasure of retiring to the warmth of my bed. Supper proved to be the worst part of my day. It might have been borne had we kept a large table, but with only me, the maids, and on occasion the earl, there were not bodies enough to heat the vastness of the room. And the table, in the middle of that great hall, was too far from the warmth of any of the fires. The food, as always, was cold by the time it reached our plate, but that winter I was grieved by that common offense. To counter the trembling of my limbs, I drank ale in abundance.
I had just wiped my nose with my sodden handkerchief one forenoon when the earl and his steward entered the chamber.
“You have the rheum?”
“Nay. Why?”
“Your nose drips.”
“My nose drips constant. If I rubbed it every time there was a drop, I would soon have no nose left.” I was too cold to give any care to my words. The chill had embittered me.
“You are ill then?”
“I am cold .”
The earl glanced toward the fire. The flames blazed as high as the mantel.
“Shall I find a physician to attend you?”
“Nay. I only ask that every window of this place be dashed to pieces and brick put up in their place. I might as well move in with a crofter, for they already live little better than out of doors.”
“You cannot mean it. This is the grandest estate in all of England!”
“And the coldest! I would sacrifice finery for warmth in an instant.”
“Get up, walk the gallery. Walks are what it is meant for.”
“I am so frigid that the thought of moving makes me colder still.
Leave me in peace. I shall thaw in the spring with the fields.”
“Why have you not asked for a warming box?”
I lifted my skirts enough to allow him to view the box upon which my feet rested.
“And still you complain?”
“Have you a box for my nose?”
The
Similar Books
