May You Live in Interesting Times

Chapter 1

Professor Eleanor Frances Halpenny was nick-named “the Hobbit” by her undergraduate history students. She was named professor emerita ¹ at the university when she had passed the age of 80. She had been barely 5 feet tall when she was a young woman: now she was several inches shorter. She was extremely wrinkled. Being 84 does that to one. Her gnome-like appearance was enhanced by a shrill, high-pitched voice.

Douglas Rayles, 28, didn’t mind the old lady. In fact, he nearly idolized her. Nearly 10 years ago he had been majoring in Sociology when he took a first-year history course in his freshman year on campus to meet a degree requirement. The Hobbit was the teacher. At the end of that year he transferred to a history major, and would take five other courses with Professor Halpenny over the next three years. That first course had been listed in the syllabus as covering the history of Stuart England from the death of Queen Elizabeth the First to the beginning of the Hanoverians. In fact the course was a concise history of what the professor called the Glorious Generation. The period from 1642 to 1692 was fifty years, or the lifetime for some people of the time, that included:

• The English Civil Wars
• The beheading of a reigning monarch (Charles I)
• The Commonwealth and Oliver Cromwell
• The Restoration of Charles II
• The Great Plague
• The Great Fire of London
• The abdication/usurpation of the King (James II)
• The Glorious Revolution that brought William III to the throne

Professor Halpenny’s motto for the course was “May you live in interesting times.” Doug was enthralled listening to his professor make those years come alive through her lectures. Most of the other students did not share his enjoyment of the class. Only three or four students were there by choice. The others were merely aiming to get an easy credit in History to meet requirements for their major. In fact, Douglas started out in that group, but fell in love with his wizened old professor and what other students felt was a droning voice, he heard as a song, calling forth the days of yore.

After finishing his undergrad degree in History, Doug went on to take his Masters in the field, and was still in school, working on his Ph.D. in history. He now taught first year students in that same History of Stuart England, trying to make the course as exciting for his students as it had been for him. Professor Halpenny was now his faculty advisor, as she had been in his Masters: one of her few duties as emerita.

But today the two History scholars were in the Physics building, watching a larger crowd from the Religion department. It was recovery date on the second human test of what the Physics department called the Hawking Quantum Chronology Device (HQCD). Basically, it is the first working prototype of the time machine theorized by Steven Hawking. The initial test of the device had been allocated to the Religion department, thanks to a large donation from an alumnus. Five professors had been sent back to spend 24 hours to witness the execution of Christ. Unfortunately, that experiment was a disaster. First, the group arrived five years after the execution, and managed to learn that it had not been Eastertime, but in the fall when Jesus had been executed.

More importantly, every one of the men teleported had changed sex and to a younger age when they landed, and at that time women were not considered important enough to travel alone. Only one of the new women spoke Aramaic, making communication difficult for the English-speakers in the group. They had learned little more than the proper date of the execution before they were pulled back, where they were males again.

The History department was supposed to have the second test, but the Religion department claimed that since their test was a failure, they should be able to go again. This time there were seven sent across, including three female nuns. All seven had studied and learned Palestinian Aramaic, as well as preparing themselves much better about the geography of the area. Four of the original five professors went back: the fifth was so traumatized by his 24 hours as a woman that he refused a second trip, especially since this time a two week visit before and after the crucifixion was planned.

While the Religion people were preparing for their mulligan, History spent several weeks choosing their experiment. Professor Halpenny, although emerita, still carried considerable weight in the department, and her plan to return to 1642 was approved. She asked Douglas to accompany her. It was not an easy decision for the young man to make. For one thing, he would spend 50 years as a woman. But it would be 50 years in the middle of the 17th century, the time period he was studying for his doctoral thesis. Physically he knew he would change as well. He was now 6’4” and he knew he would not a woman of that size. The men from the first Religion experiment said that they had all become young woman of varying heights, but each was much shorter.

Finally, he agreed, and both he and the professor suspended their other tasks at the university. Learning a new language was not necessary: Shakespeare’s plays had been written less than 50 years prior to their arrival time and could still be read today. But they spend a lot of time with a linguistics professor specializing in that period who tutored them on common words and phrases, and differences in pronunciation. He claimed that the spoken word had changed much more over the past 400 years than the written word.

They also spent time studying English money, and getting familiar with the system of pounds, shillings, and pence that was used at the time and approximate values of items. Douglas spent hours learning how to do double entry accounting in the archaic monetary system. There were also penmanship classes, using inkwells and quill pens, and learning to slowly write in the fine penmanship of that era. Douglas, in particular, had to learn to write with a feminine hand. He also was required to take lessons in needlework, weaving, sewing, and other tasks expected of a female lady of the 17th century. He also learned music, and how to sing and play the piano. Finally, Douglas was taught painting by the art department, so that he would have at least the rudiments of art. Professor Halpenny had learned Latin in high school, so she merely had to brush up on it, but had to learn Greek to attain the level an educated man of the 1640s. She also learned to handle a sword, although at her age it was more theory than practice. Luckily she had learned to ride as a young girl, and knew that she would be able to pick it up when she became young again. Douglas did spend some time on horseback learning to ride. Both of them had to learn or brush up on their French, again with a 1640s dialect.

The plan was that they would arrive in late 1642 in southern England near a stage coach route that could take them to London. Professor Halpenny would become William Currie, Earl of Stanstead, and Douglas would become his sister Abigail. They would have documents that attested to their title, and most importantly, money. There were undergraduates in the History department who had been hired to duplicate early Stuart coins, and the time travellers would arrive with a satchel of 5000 pounds sterling in gold. The coinage would technically be counterfeit, but since real gold was used, this was not expected to be a problem.

The satchel was special: something that the Physics department had developed while the Religion mulligan was in progress. It was a type of portal between the time periods. Something placed in the satchel in 1642 could be retrieved seconds later in the 21st century. This would allow the university to continually refurbish the time traveller’s funds, as well as sending messages either direction.

Douglas suddenly sat up. A commotion alerted him that something was happening. He shook the professor’s knee: she had fallen asleep. The recovery of the seven from the time of Christ was taking place, only two hours late.

The people came out of the device in a row, wearing the same clothes they had entered in two weeks before. The nuns were crying softly, the male professors were either sad or angry. The Physics professor who built the device was alarmed immediately and asked what had happened.

The men acted meek, and one of the nuns became the spokesperson. “Everything was wrong,” she said. “The cross was wrong: an X instead of a T. And there were nine executed that day, not three.”

“We waited outside the burial chamber the night he was to rise, and discovered that four of the disciples came in and stole the body,” another nun said. “We followed them, and they buried the body in a different location. He did not rise as we had believed.”

“We trailed most of the other disciples, and found that they met each night that week, but none of them met with the risen Jesus. They just plotted on what to do now that their leader was gone,” the first nun said.

“It means that it was all a lie,” the third nun sobbed. “He was not a savior, just a common rabble-rouser who was killed and then carted away by his disciples, leaving an empty burial chamber. We even looked inside to see if there was a Shroud of Turin, but the room was empty. He was buried in the shroud.”

“It still could be true,” one of the angry professors said. “His soul could have risen. Some of the gospel is misleading … but it could be an allegory, I don’t feel that all is lost.”

It was clear that not all the group agreed. There was a full eight hours of debriefing, and this was the part that Professor Halpenny and Douglas were most interested in. They learned that the transfer had again switched the sex of the people. This time there was a routine that decided the ages and appearance of the transferees, which meant that two of the nuns became men in their 20s, and one of the professors became an older woman in her 30s, thus carrying a little more respect than the young girls that the others became under the defaults. It seemed the machine would make transferees the age of young adults at the end of puberty, unless otherwise conditioned. One of the professors had become a girl of 10, acting as daughter of the older woman, as an experiment. He did not enjoy his two weeks as a child again.

There was not much additional information gained by the history professors, so they left and returned to making plans over the next month while the machine was prepared for their trip. The Religion department tried to get a second mulligan: claiming that they needed to investigate further into the activities after the crucifixion, and before, when they wanted to investigate the miracles that the Gospels claimed Jesus had done. This time they were denied, and the History experiment would be next. The Music department had also put forth a project that would have four male professors go back to 1960 and spend 10 years watching the development of rock music, from the Beatles in the Cavern Club in Liverpool, then to Germany, and finally spending the latter half of the 60s in San Francisco, with a side trip to Woodstock. The Biology department also had a plan to send two female members as sailors on the voyages of the Beagle with Charles Darwin. The additional Religion projects were slotted in after them.

A month later Douglas carried a large trunk, with the satchel sitting on top of it, into the device, and then helped the elderly professor in with him. The door was sealed, and then there were swirling colors. These lasted 20 seconds, much less than the Religion group had experienced. But that group had gone back 2000 years, and this trip was under 400 years.

Suddenly the colors faded and the two found themselves on a dirt road that ran straight as an arrow. They had nailed the landing, coming in about 20 yards from a small wooden bridge that crossed the East Stour River on an old Roman road. Douglas reached down to pull the trunk off to the side of the road, and was amazed by several things.

First, he couldn’t budge the heavy trunk, which seemed to be 150% larger. Then he realized as he leaned forwards there was something surprising on his chest. “I better get that, Abigail,” Professor Halpenny … no, Earl William Currie of Stanstead said. The former diminutive professor was now over a foot taller than Abigail, and well muscled. She lifted the trunk easily. It was all Abigail could do to carry the satchel, full of heavy gold.

“We got the location right,” William said, “and judging from that dust trail down the road, I think we got the time perfect as well. Here comes our ride.”

Stagecoaches were a recent development, having been started 30 years before, but now provided a network across England. The stage pulled up, and the driver and guard seemed tense, looking around. There were no trees within 100 yards, so finally the guard hopped down.

“We have a full coach, milord and milady,” the guard said. “We will move a few to the roof seats to make room for you inside. Rich will shift your trunk up top.” The guard stuck his head in the coach and ordered two men to move out to the roof seats ‘to make room for your betters.’ Then he hefted the trunk onto the baggage area, and helped Abigail, and then William into the coach, where they took seats. The other four inside passengers were two couples, one apparently a merchant and wife, and the other a well-dressed couple who spent the next few minutes comparing the quality of their clothes with the newcomers, to determine who might have the higher social standing.

Eventually it turned out that they were a Baron and his Lady, and when they discovered that William was an Earl, they bowed politely. They initially referred to Abigail as Countess², until it was explained that the two were brother and sister, and not a married couple.

A half hour later the stage stopped in a wooded copse. There was a tree in the roadway, and seconds later a band of five men and a boy surrounded the rear of the stage, preventing it from reversing direction.

“Out. Out everyone,” the leader of the band shouted.

This was bad. Once the bandits discovered what was in the satchel, they would take it. The gold was not important: the important thing was the satchel itself: the pair’s link with the future. Abigail thought quickly, and handed the satchel to William. She backed out of the coach, but as she did so she retrieved her secret weapon: a seven-inch dagger that she had the costume designer sew into a sheath nestled between her breasts. She may have to be a girl for the next 50 years, but she had vowed she would not be a defenseless one. William saw her draw the weapon, and smiled as she concealed it in the fringe of her blouse sleeve.

William had his sword of course, but the surprise of the dagger could be just what he needed. Before he left the stage he unclasped the top of the satchel. When he got out he dropped the satchel, and the top flew open, with a few gold coins popping out.

This caused the head bandit to drop from his horse, drawn by the massive amount of gold. He kneeled and ran his fingers through the money: “Lookee here boys. We have treasure here.”

That was when Abigail stepped forward, drawing her dagger. The man didn’t even look up until the dagger was at his throat and slicing into it. The bandit fell, and William drew his sword before either of the others could react.

One man on horseback held a primitive pistol and was about to aim it at William, so Abigail threw her dagger, aiming for his arm but hitting his chest. The man fell from his horse, and the gun bounded away. William took on the other two men in a sword fight, and Abigail grabbed onto the boy, who seemed to be about eight years old.

Rich, the guard got into the action a few seconds later, and with two swords against two, the bandits quickly were vanquished. The guard killed his, and when the man facing William threw down his sword to surrender, the guard also killed that man. He would have killed the boy as well, but Abigail stepped in front of the lad.

They surveyed the carnage. The guard had killed two. One had ridden away at the start of the fight, when he saw the lifeless leader with a bloody smile across his throat. The gunman was dead too: Abigail’s dagger had gone into his heart as well as nicking his arm. The boy was shivering in Abigail’s arms.

William gathered up his coins, giving one to the guard for his assistance. The dead men were trussed to the horses they had ridden in on. The guard collected the dropped firearm, and seemed pleased that he would have it for future battles.

“We are only five minutes to the next stage station. Then it will be another hour into London,” James, the driver said. “We will get rid of that baggage at the next station. Your lady killed two, so she gets two of the horses. The best two, I think. Rich here killed the other two, so he gets the last two. Shame we lost the fifth, but after seeing four of his mates mowed down, that fellow might be looking for another line of work. Now what are we to do with that half-sized bandit?”

“He will go with us,” Abigail announced. “He is small. He can lay on the floor of the coach.”

No one was going to argue with the young girl who had just casually killed two men, and was wiping the blood from her dagger onto the hat the bandit leader had been wearing. “Anyone want this?” she asked, waving the hat. “It’s a bit dirty now.”

“I’ll take it,” one of the topside riders said, and she flung it up to the top of the coach. The bandits hadn’t even gotten them down from their seats.

The dead men’s horses, with their noxious burden, were hitched to the rear of the stage, and the party was soon underway, although at a walking pace, which meant the normal 10 minute ride to the next stage station would take about a half hour. Inside the once-quiet riders seemed to have bonded over their experience, and were quite chatty with each other. The men now sat on one side of the coach, facing the rear, and the women were facing the front. The boy, bound hand and foot, lay on the floor of the coach.

“I’m so glad we picked you up,” the merchant said to William. “I don’t have nearly as much money as you do,” he gestured at the satchel, “but what I have in my money belt is nearly all I have. We are headed to the cattle market to buy stock for my shop in Maidstone. If I was robbed I would have been unable to buy anything, and soon my store would be empty.”

“This is very important to me too,” William patted the satchel. “We are returning from France, and I hope to be able to buy us a home in London. I am an Earl, but currently have no estates.”

“Ah,” Baron Stephen of Downsland said, “estates can be more trouble than they are worth. First we have the King’s men coming to collect taxes, and then the Parliament men come around, and want the same taxes. More and more each time, and often several times in the year. Much of our savings are gone, and we have to squeeze the people. And they don’t have money either. I wish they would realize that these wars they keep fighting cost money, and we have no more money to give.”

“You come to London too, then?” William asked.

“Yes. My lands are right at the edge of the territories, with Parliament holding lands to the east, and the King the lands to the west. I honor the King, but staying up there left me exposed to both. Here at least there will be only one set of taxes to pay, if my steward can send me money before the Stuarts get to it.”

The three men smiled at the baron’s quip. “The one good thing is that the troubles have made rents in London much cheaper. I rented a house for a third the price of last year. Usually we only come down for the season, but this year I think we will stay until the troubles are over. You should be able to buy cheaply as well.”

“The season?” William queried.

“The fall season,” the baron replied. “We have many friends in the city and during the season we all have fetes and feasts. Of course as an Earl you will be travelling in a much higher circle. But Mary and I would be quite honored to have you and the Countess, I mean your sister, attend the affair we will be hosting.”

“We would hope to come,” William said.

“That would be so gracious of you, milord,” the baron said. “For one thing, no one will believe my tale of what just happened today without collaboration.”

“Tell me more of the troubles,” William said. After all, one of the goals of the project was to find out what people thought about things. When written down, accounts often lost this human element of the story. Here he had a chance to get the impressions from two men at different social positions. They chatted all the way to the stage station, and then again all the way into London.

Meanwhile Abigail had chatted with the women. She hadn’t flowed into conversation ad quickly as her ‘brother’, primarily because the others were in complete awe of her. She had killed two bandits alone.

“You are too brave,” the merchant’s wife finally said. “To think to draw your dagger, and then to use it so quickly. Have you ever done that before?”

“No,” Abigail said. “I had practiced throwing it, but never had used one on a living person. It surprised me how easily it went into the man’s throat. The throw was not meant to kill, but the man was turning to fire his pistol at us, and it only nicked his arm. Unfortunately his chest was where it ended up.”

“You are still so calm,” the Baroness Norah said. “I am still shaking, and did nothing more than stand there and wonder if all my jewels were to be taken. And possibly more. It is said that these bandits sometimes made free with women after killing their men.”

“Oh God, no,” the merchant wife gasped. “I never thought of that. Oh my. I could never … Oh my.” Abigail looked at the woman, who apparently thought rape was the worse part of the scenario, ignoring the fact that her husband would have been killed first. “We owe more to you than we thought,” she finally said to Abigail when she was coherent again.

“Eventually the women put their ordeal behind them and spoke of other things. The women were most interested in knowing what the Paris fashions were like, and wondered what they might import for their gowns for the ‘season,’ which was a big thing for the baroness. The other woman said that the ‘season’ in Maidstone was much less ornate, although her husband’s business would double, which was why he was coming to London to buy cattle. They would not initially enter the city, but stop a stage or two outside where the cattle markets were. After they bought their stock, they would hire drovers to take it to Maidstone, and the couple would continue into the city to buy goods from London merchants, and take them home by coach, arriving a day or two before their cattle would arrive.

At the stage station, the stationmaster was out immediately to accuse the driver of being late. Then when he saw the extra horses and their cargo he stopped. Then there was a recounting of the event.

During the hour that they were delayed at the station, one coach went in the other direction and shortly thereafter another coach came on the London-bound run. It was not full, so the merchant and his wife moved to it while the baron and baroness decided to dine in the station with Abigail while William spoke with the stationmaster. Two of the outside passengers also moved to the other coach.

William came in and tossed fourteen pounds on the table in front of his sister. “I sold your horses to the stationmaster. No sense taking them all the way into the city. They wouldn’t be able to stay hitched to our coach: it would slow it down too much. If we need horses in London we can buy there. Abigail gathered up the coin. Why had William not just put it into the satchel? Then it hit her. He wanted the money split up, so if they lost the satchel they would have something.

William got the kitchen to make him a roll containing a thick slice of cheddar and as much beef. So much for the myth of the Earl of Sandwich inventing this in the 1700s. Perhaps when they returned to the present, people would be referring to it as a Stanstead.

Without the merchants the boy had a seat, although his hands and feet were still bound. He sat next to Abigail, who had gotten him a “Stanstead” and was tearing off bite-size morsels to feed him as they rode towards the big city, to the amusement of the baroness. The boy was ravenous, and ate the entire sandwich in only a few minutes, drinking from a water flask Abigail carried. He then curled up beside his benefactor and fell asleep.

“What will you do with him?” the baroness asked. “He could hang as a member of the gang.”

“He is not a criminal: only a boy,” Abigail retorted. “We will find him a place in our staff, if he wishes it.”

“He certainly will wish it, if you keep feeding him so well,” the baroness said. “That food was more than most of my husband’s tenants get in two days.”

“It was probably more than two days since he last ate,” Abigail said. “Those men didn’t seem well fed. I suspect the boy got the slim pickings that were left after they ate.”

“The women chatted alone for the next few hours as dusk fell and they approached London. The boy woke up, and found that he was no longer bound. “Me hands are free,” he said in awe.

“And your feet,” Abigail said softly. “Being bound was making it hard for you to sleep well. I trust you not to run away. You could if you wish. I will not keep you as a slave, but a servant. Will you serve me?”

The boy slid to the floor of the coach and grasped the lowest hem on Abigail’s dress. “Milady, I’ll serve you all the rest of my life. You saved me. Those men did … they did ‘orrible things to me at nights. I were glad to see you and the guard kill ‘em.”

“Rise up young man. Have you a name?”

“I is Joe,” the boy said, standing. “Hank, the one you slit his throat, says I must have another name, but I dunno what it is.”

“I will give you my name as a surname,” Abigail said. “I am named Abigail Currie. Your new name will be Joseph Curryman.”

“That’s a lot, milady, for one as small as I is. Per’aps I could stay as just Joe till I gets that big one into my head.” He did seem to show pride on his face that he now had as many names as most common people.

“Milady,” he confessed. “I kin tell you where Hank and the others stashed their takin’s.”

“What of the one who ran away?” Abigail said. “Surely he will go and move the stolen goods.”

“’e don’t know, does ‘e?” Joe said. “’e was just picked up by the boys earlier that day, new to the gang, yer see. ‘e never did a night with us in the cave. But I knows where it is. Leastwise, if you kin get me back to that there place. I’ll lead you and your brother to the booty. There is a lot. Not much money but lots of jewels and stuff. Hank takes that to the city during fair week, where there’s pawners from away what’ll buy suspicious jewels cheap.”

William had been listening to the dialog between his sister and her new servant. “We will go for a ride in a day or two, youngster,” he said. “You do ride?” The boy nodded. “How many men will we need to carry away the booty, as you call it?”

The boy looked confused, and then started calculating. “I don’t knows no numbers, milord. But there would be this many bags the size of that ‘un.” He pointed to the satchel and then started rising fingers as he visualized the booty hoard. He stopped with seven fingers up. “That many ‘ll do it, I reckons.”

Chapter Two

The stage arrived in London late, and the final stop was at an inn the baroness said was not suitable for people of their place in society. So as soon as the coach stopped, Abigail sent Joe out to find another place Norah recommended, and reserve a room for them. The baron and wife took a cabriolet³ to their rented home after making sure that William had the address for a future meeting.

Abigail’s trunk was a problem. It was too large to fit in a cabriolet, so William arranged to store it at the stage yard after Abigail got a nightdress out and placed it in her handbag. He also arranged for a driver and a local carriage for the following morning. James, the coach driver, agreed to take the commission, and promised to wait at their inn at 6 a.m.

The cab got them to the inn in good time, and Joe was waiting out front. “They’s got a room as is fit for an Earl, they says,” he reported, “and one more for milady. I hope that’s okay.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Abigail said. “I’m guessing you are hungry again. Do you think we should eat? It will be an early morning for us.”

“I could eat,” the boy said with a huge grin. “I can’t reckon ever saying no to a good nosh. Or even one not so good as that you offer.”

Abigail giggled, and then stopped as she realized that she had giggled. She led the boy into the inn, and realized that he was closer to her height than she was to William’s. The inn had no common bar, so the main room was nearly empty. The kitchen was closed, so William merely asked for buns with cheddar and roast beef slices. He also asked for more of the same in the morning, when they would be leaving quite early. The innkeeper looked askance at that, but smiled again when William said he would pay in advance. Abigail didn’t see what the charges were, but William paid with shillings and not pounds. She would have been happy paying pennies at the ‘low class’ coaching inn but realized that people of her status must keep up appearances.

In her room, Abigail struggled to get out of her dress, which was somewhat soiled. She would have to wear it again in the morning. She learned why women of these times had maids … she was completely stymied in getting the garment off.

There was a tap on the door while she was struggling, and William slipped in. He saw the problems that she was having, and moved quickly to help. “But you are a man now,” Abigail hissed as he unbuttoned the back of the gown.

“You have nothing I haven’t seen in a mirror every morning for over 70 years,” he said. “Although not as much, I’ll warrant.” He added as he lifted the gown from her and laid it on the bed, revealing her in her undergarments.

“I thought as much,” Abigail said as she looked down on her breasts laying atop her corset. “Those clowns in the Physics department changed my pattern. I was supposed to be a C cup. I’m only 15 here, dammit. “But these are at least DDs.”

“I’ll say,” William said, staring at her barely covered breasts.

“And if you will just loosen the ties on my corset, then get the hell back to your own room. Or the washroom. The parts that you haven’t had for over 70 years are starting to alarm me.”

William looked down at his first ever erection, and did as Abigail said. He hurried from the room, muttering ‘my sister. She’s my sister’ as he did. With the big man gone, Abigail pulled off the corset and put on the nightdress. Why was she panting heavily, she wondered. Was it from being undressed by a tall, strong man? One that was able to tent his trousers in such an interesting way?

The next morning the boots⁴ rapped on the door at 5:30 to wake them, and William came in her room a few minutes later. Abigail had just managed to get back from the washroom where she did her morning ablutions. William helped her into her corset, and then the gown from yesterday.

They went down to the dining room, where the cook had the requested rolls ready. Joe darted out the door and then popped back in, announcing “Coach’s here. Same driver as yesterday,” he said. “Looks like yer trunk is on top.”

They ate their breakfast in the carriage. Joe reveled in having his third meal in 24-hours, more food than he usually got in a week. He had prayed for the first time in years last night, thanking the Lord for having milady find him, and take him in. He also prayed his new lord and lady.

James, the driver, recognized Abigail’s description of the place she wanted to go. In her research back at the university Douglas had learned of a certain Duke who had become insolvent at the time they were now in. His butler, who had served the Duke’s father for 25 years, and the new duke for nearly 15, had committed suicide the very morning they were now in.

There was a B plan if they didn’t meet the butler, but things would work out much better if they found him before he jumped. Even more so for the man. James stopped at the spot Abigail indicated, and the three of them got out. Joe ran ahead with specific instructions to delay the man, if he could be found, while the time travellers walked along the river, looking down below to see if there might be a body in the weeds. James stayed in the carriage, and moved it along every few hundred yards that the couple walked.

It was a foggy morning, and it was hard to see down to the river’s edge, but Abigail peered hard to see if she could spot anything. Eventually William nudged her, and she could see Joe up ahead, talking to a man of about 50.

“Good day sir,” William said. Abigail noticed that the man was sweating profusely in spite of the cool damp, and seemed to be nervous, although Joe was chatting animatedly with him. The man’s clothing was that of a high-class servant, but worn and tattered looking.

“The river is interesting in the morning,” William said. “It is our first day in London, after spending some time in France, and before that in India, where our parents made their fortune, but lost their lives to the disease. We returned, travelling through France, with several months in Paris. Now we are here to see a cousin, the Duke of Spritzland.”

The man jumped as William mentioned their destination. “I know that house,” he said softly. “I am … I was … the butler there. But I fear you are out of luck. Today the house is being foreclosed on. The young Duke, unfortunately has a habit of spending time at the gambling tables. He inherited a tidy fortune from the old Duke, but his ways at the tables were not lucky. Five years ago today he mortgaged the house and his estates in Sussex. Other estates have been sold since, and by noon today he will be landless and homeless. That is why I am no longer the butler.”

“It is nearly five hours until noon,” Abigail said. “Surely we can do something?”

“Unless you have 3000 pounds handy, no,” the butler said. He looked startled as William smiled. They had walked back to the carriage, and the man stood outside as William climbed in: “Tell me, are your wages paid up at the house of Spritzland.”

The butler laughed. “No. None of us have been paid for two years. Several have left for other positions. I have not been paid for three years. The house owes money to all the trades, and the Duke has sold or pawned almost all the furnishings. There is no food at all in the house. We have been living on oatmeal from the stables for the past month, and today the cook said that was gone.”

“What was your salary there?” William asked. “Please get in the carriage with us. We will take you home.”

“I was to be paid £15 a quarter,” explained Hockings, as he said his name was.

“Sixty a year, three years … here is £200. I am in need of a butler. Would you serve me?”

“Yes milord,” Hockings said in amazement. “At what house?”

“The same one you have lived in for 40 years. I plan to buy it from my cousin. He and his family will continue to live there, but if I own it, and all the fixtures, then he will no longer be able to gamble it away. Now, if the larder is empty, we should stop at some shops as they open so that the staff and family can break their fast.”

It took a few minutes for Hockings to realize that salvation was at hand, and he directed James to a commercial district that was just starting to open up. No super markets in this time period, Abigail learned. You needed to go to a different shop for almost every product. One stop for milk, cheese and butter, another for bread. Meats were all in one location, staples in another. One more shop for root vegetables.

In almost every shop the owners nearly chased Hockings out of the store, until William showed them coin, and said that he was the one purchasing. He also told the shopkeepers that if they appeared at the Duke’s residence in the afternoon with evidence of the debt owed, then all arrears would be cleared. The only condition was that the Duke sell his home to William.

They arrived at the beautiful large mansion at about 7:30 in the morning, and found the place nearly deserted. Hockings ushered William into the Duke’s office, while the other three carried goods down to the kitchens.

“Who are you?” snapped the Duke as William entered. He was standing behind a small, cheap table. There were no chairs or stools in the room. “The mortgage is not due until noon. Are you that eager to put my household on the street?”

“I am not from the people you are dealing with in that matter,” William said, pulling a letter out of his satchel without revealing the other contents. “I am your cousin, William Currie of Stanstead, and have arrived with my sister Abigail. By chance we met your man Hockings, and heard of your dilemma.”

“Looking for a bed and meals, I suspect,” the Duke said bitterly. “Well I’m afraid that it is too late for either.”

“Perhaps not,” William said, grabbing a fistful of pound coins from the satchel, and setting them on the table, which held a large document that the Earl recognized as a mortgage promissory note. “May I?”

“Yes, certainly,” the Duke said, mesmerized by the sight of gold.

“This says you need to pay £3215 by noon today,” William read from the mortgage. “I think we can cover that. However, this is not a gift. I mean to buy the house and the Sussex estates with that amount.”

“So we are still out on the streets,” the Duke muttered. “I see no difference.”

“The difference is that you are family, and will continue to live in the house. I wish I could allow it to appear in your name, but then people would continue to come after it to cover gambling debts. So it will have to become known that I own the house and lands. I don’t seek your title. That will remain with you. But I will own the house, and run the house. Everything in the house will belong to me, even the clothes you wear. The servants will report to me, not you. I will allow you £10 a week for your gambling, no more.”

“Ten pounds?” the Duke roared. “That is nothing. I need at least £200 a night.”

“And that is why you are on the verge of being the first Duke of England to go to a workhouse,” William said. “That is my offer. Do you accept?”

The Duke only hesitated for a few moments, and then signed the bill of sale, with Hockings, and a woman named Bentley, apparently the housekeeper, witnessing it. She had arrived with food, although the cooked buns were carried on a slab of wood, all the actual platters having been sold or pawned.

“I was told that there was no food,” the Duke said, as he and William each took a roll.

“The larder is restocked,” Bentley said. “The cook is currently working on a dinner for tonight like we haven’t seen in months.”

The servants left, and the nobles swept the crumbs from the table, and started to work making stacks of one pound coins 50 high, eventually making 64 piles, with another smaller pile of 15 coins. It was shortly after they finished counting and recounting, that the moneylender who held the mortgage arrived. He was amazed to see the money sitting on the table. After the shock wore off, he smiled.

“I will gladly take cash for the house,” he said. “The estates in the country are worth more, but London houses are selling slow with all the troubles, and cash will actually suit me better.”

The man counted the coin twice, and at the end insisted that another £200 was due because it was now 12:45, and the mortgage specified that the payment be made by noon. He called for a penalty.

“The money was sitting on that table at 10 a.m.,” William said, his voice rising. “If anyone is to pay a penalty, it is you for making us wait while you dithered about the count. Anyone with the least bit of math skills could assess the total in two minutes, and you took over an hour. I think you owe us £200 for trying to extract more than your due.” William stuck out his hand.

“No, no, that is fine. I will waive the penalty,” the moneylender said. “Now let us sign the mortgage to settle it.” This time it was Hockings and William who witnessed the transaction, and the moneylender left.

“Sir,” Hocking addressed William, and not the Duke. “There are several tradespeople here to see you.”

“Ah yes,” William said. “Send them in according to how long they have been waiting.” You need not remain for this, milord,” William dismissed the Duke, who headed off to the kitchens to see what was going on down there.

“Before you call them in, Hockings,” William asked. “Do any of the staff read, write, and do sums?”

“I do, sir, and Bentley, of course. The cook has some expertise with money, but I don’t think she can write. Oh, Kensing in the stables is educated. I’m not sure why he is still with us.”

“Good. I want Kensing, and James, the driver who has our carriage, to go buy some horses and a wagon. Am I right in assuming that we have none?” The butler nodded. “Have the head of the stables go with them. Also …”

“Sorry to interrupt, but Jones, the stablemaster, left us eight weeks ago. He said he wouldn’t work at a stables that had no horses after the master … the old master … pawned them off.”

“Okay. But I also want another man, someone with some muscle. And who is the senior maid after Bentley?”

“That would be Winthrope,” Hockings said.

“Excellent. Have them come in to see me as soon as you can arrange it. And send Joe as well. They may need a runner.”

Williams got through the first three merchants before the staff he requested were ushered in. The merchants had been easy to deal with. They all came in with bills and accounts, expecting to have to argue just to get a portion of their money. The amount they were willing to pay as a discount for immediate payment varied from 20 percent to 50 percent. To their surprise, William merely scanned the accounts to verify that they seemed accurate, and then paid 100 percent for the arrears, rounding up to the nearest pound. When William told them that future accounts would be paid in full at the end of the month, they were all smiles and willing to do business with the house again.

When the staff popped in, William quickly explained that he wanted James to go to his masters and purchase four carriage horses, preferably the ones that he had rented for the day, and the carriage and tack. He also needed two more common horses and a work wagon and tack.

“Hmm, let’s see,” the driver said. “The boss will probably want £250 for that carriage. I know he paid £200 for it, and he’s rented it out several times. Carriage horses will probably go for £12.50 each. The troubles have driven up the price of horses something terrible. A decent wagon will cost you £50: the troubles again. Common horses will be £10 each. So you are going to be looking at £370.”

William was impressed at how quickly the man had toted up the prices. “Next question. There is a vacancy for stable master here. Are you interested in the job?”

“I might be. What’s the pay?”

“I can offer 13 pounds a quarter,” William said.

“I get 15 now,” James said. “But getting held up by bandits is a not an attractive part of the job. And next time there may not be people in the coach as good as you and your sister at quelling them.”

“The job includes room and board. Are you married? Children?”

“The wife takes in laundry. This kids are grown and have families of their own.”

“We might be able to find a position for your wife here. I am short staffed right now.”

“I’m your man then,” James said. “When do I start?”

“Right now, if your current boss doesn’t need notice.” William took £400 from the satchel, and was surprised to see that it was full again in spite of nearly £4000 being taken out for the mortgage and payments to the suppliers.

He reached in and took out another £500 and handed it to Kensing. I want you to take the wagon and team that James will buy you, and head out and try to find some furniture for this place. Winthrope is with you because she will know what is needed. Beds are of importance. I’ve slept on a hard floor before, but don’t relish doing it again. A wardrobe for my sister. Whatever is missing from the rooms of the Duke, Duchess, and their daughter. Cleaning supplies if we need them. Everything that we need to get this house livable again. Have things sent on if the vendors can, otherwise pile them on the wagon. Send Joe back if you need more money. If you see anything that is from the house, I want it. Buy it if it is reasonable, but make note and let me know if it is not. I may overpay if it is an important part of the house’s heritage.”

After they left, there were eight more vendors to settle up with, and again all left with large smiles and full pockets.

“That was the last,” Hocking said after leading a merchant to the door.

“Good. I guess the next step will be to have a staff meeting. I would like to have all the staff get together so I can address them. Where would be a good place?”

“The Great Hall,” Hocking said. “It is where banquets and dances were held by the old Duke. It is not much used any longer. But I’m not sure this is a good time, sir. The kitchen will be well underway for dinner and cannot just leave pots and roasts.”

“Of course,” William said, slapping his head. “And I just sent a bunch of staff off an hour ago. We will do the meeting after supper.”

“That would be better, sir. There is still much to do in the kitchens then, but it is washing up, and that can wait, while cookery cannot.”

Just then a footman appeared. “Sir, milord, there is a wagon out front with furniture on it. Do we have an order coming in?”

“Many orders,” William said. “Bring it in.” That first load contained a fine dining room table, as well as another table that was immediately taken to the kitchen, where the staff cheered to have a work surface back to prepare on. William noticed that some of the undercooks were sitting on the floor, with mixing bowls between their legs. The Duke had totally gutted the place.

The good table went into the dining room, and there were four chairs, as well as two long benches for the sides. One four-poster bed was brought in, and placed in the room that Bentley said would be Abigail’s. The next wagon to appear was from a mercer, and contained curtains, towels, linens and bedclothes. It also included several mattresses.

The last wagon was driven by Kensing, with Winthrope sitting beside him. It contained a beautiful desk for the office, which apparently had sat there for 60 years before the Duke sold it. There was also another four-poster bed, so William would not be sleeping on the ground, and the final piece of furniture was a wardrobe that Winthrope thought would work in Abigail’s room.

“Good job all,” William told them. “I want you to go out again tomorrow, and do it all over again. We have a lot of money to spend to get this house looking reasonable again.

1. Emerita is the feminine of Emeritus, the term for a professor who has passed the normal retirement age, but maintains a connection with the university, often a reduced teaching schedule.
2. Countess is the proper term for the female Count or Earl. There is no Earless, which is a term for a person without ears.
3. A cabriolet was a small, light conveyance pulled by a single horse and holding two people (and a driver). The present term ‘cab’ comes from this term.
4. The ‘boots’ was a servant, usually a young boy, who was responsible for getting up early in the morning to take any boots that had been left outside of the doors of a room, and polish them, if leather, or brush them clean for other types. The clean boots were to be back at the doors of the patron when he woke up. In the case of a hotel, or when visiting another house, a visitor would drop four pence or so into the toe of one boot as a tip.

May You Live in Interesting Times

Chapter 3

Abigail carried the goods she and William had picked up on the way to the Duke’s house, along with James the carriage driver, and Joe. They were met by a woman a few years older than Hockings, and he introduced her as Bentley, the head housekeeper. The woman grabbed the bags Hockings carried, and led the others to the kitchens, while the two men went to the Duke’s office. They found most of the staff in the kitchen, idly standing around.

“Have none of you anything to do?” Bentley asked angrily.

“Not really,” a man’s voice from the back replied. “We’re going to be on the street by noon, and hungrier than we are now.

“We have brought some food,” Abigail said. She looked around and could see no place to put the bags she carried. She set them on the floor. “We have rolls in these bags, and the bags that James, my driver, carries have some cold cooked beef and cheese. Perhaps we can all make a bun to break our fast and then have a little chat.”

The meat and cheese were put onto a small, rickety table, the only one in the kitchen. A woman Abigail assumed was the cook cut slices off the beef, and another woman cut slices off the block of cheddar. A third woman sliced the rolls after moving the bag to her feet. The staff formed a line and politely moved along, each getting a bun of meat and cheese at the end. Soon everyone was munching happily: breakfast in the past weeks had been weak oatmeal gruel, and there was none at all yesterday or today. Eyes were wide as they spied the meats and other foods that had been brought down to the kitchen. Abigail sent Bentley up to the office with buns for the Duke and William.

“You are all probably wondering who I am,” Abigail said as the staff ate. “My name is Abigail Currie, and my brother, William Currie, Earl of Stanstead is currently up with our cousin, your master, trying to save the house. If all goes well, we will be in possession of the house after noon, and will want to keep most of you, if not all, to stay on as staff. So when you are finished eating I want you all to go to your work. Your new master will want to inspect the property, and how well it looks will determine whether or not he wishes to keep you on. The kitchen staff should concentrate on cooking dinner. There is a ham in one of these bundles, so there will be meat for dinner today. Not just for the main dining room, but for the downstairs table as well. Although I don’t see a table here at the present time.

Bentley returned carrying her wooden platter. “The Duchess and her daughter will not have eaten yet,” Abigail noted. “Is there enough left for them to break fast?” The cook made two more rolls, and placed them on the platter. “I wish to see the house. Are you free to show me around?” Abigail asked Bentley.

As the two women walked up to the main floor carrying the platter, Bentley said: “I signed as witness to a deed that said your brother has purchased the house and estates. Does that mean the house is sold?”

“It does. William will speak to all the staff later, but rest assured you will be kept on. And paid your arrears of salary. I will be in charge of the household, so you should expect to report to me. Not the Duchess, who should be treated as an honored guest.”

“They will both be in the Duchess’s suite, I suspect,” the housekeeper said. She rapped twice on a door, and then opened it. A woman, wearing a somewhat tattered gown, was within, along with a girl of about 12 who looked to be squeezed into a dress of a 10-year-old.

“Is it time?” the woman said.

“Is that food?” the little girl said, salivating.

“We have food, and we have news,” Abigail said as Bentley approached the pair with the platter. They each quickly snapped up a bun and started eating, grinning as if they were eating a feast, not a common roll.

“It is clear which you wanted first,” Abigail said. “Now for the news. My brother, who is a cousin to the Duke, has purchased the house and the estates.”

“Gabrielle, eat like a lady,” the woman snapped. The girl took two smaller bites, and then went back to eating as fast as she could. Abigail noted that the bites her mother took were just as large. The woman continued: “When do we need to be out?”

“The thing is,” Abigail explained, “you are family, and you are not expected to leave. You are not even expected to move to other rooms. This will continue to be your home: even though it will be William that owns it, and not the Duke.”

“So he won’t be able to pawn or sell anything else,” the woman’s eyes lit up. “He will have to stop gambling.”

“William said he will allow 10 pounds a week allowance to the Duke, so he may continue his habits in moderation,” Abigail said. “But he will not be able to deplete the house or estates any further.”

“God bless you, cousin,” the Duchess said, hugging Abigail. “Bentley, put Abigail in the gold room. And have the lout of my husband moved into here.” She turned to Abigail and said in an aside. “I left the master suite three years ago, in an attempt to get him to stop gambling, but it just got worse. Your brother should get that suite. I will let John back in my bed, but it may be some time before he regains my attentions.”

She turned to Bentley, who had not moved, and was about to make a retort when she realized her mistake. “Oh my. It is no longer my place to order staff about, is it? That will be hard for me to break. I apologize.” She looked to two women standing at the wall. “Will we be able to keep our maids?”

Abigail had not even noticed the women standing motionless at the side of the room as they had watched their mistresses wolfing down food.

“Yes you will, but I will make one exception with this order,” Abigail said turning to the maids. “I want the two of you to hurry down to the kitchen and tell the cook that I said you were to be fed as the other staff have been.” She turned to Bentley. “And I will need a maid for my own purposes.

“Harper, send up Wilson before you eat, and then come back to serve your mistresses,” Bentley ordered.

Abigail looked around the suite. The only place one could sit was on the edge of the bed. There was an old wardrobe that had one door broken off, showing three or four old gowns. One was so old it had a ruff collar, a style that had gone out after Queen Elizabeth had died.

The Duchess blushed at seeing Abigail look about her room: “I apologize, milady. There is not much left in the house. We thought we would be moving out today. And my gown is not very presentable.”

“Neither is mine,” Abigail said. “I had to wear yesterday’s again, and that was a somewhat exciting day for us. I do have a trunk with a few more gowns, so I will be able to change for dinner. And let’s stop with this milady stuff. You outrank me: duchess over sister to an Earl. I am not even a Countess. Call me Abigail, or even Abi when we are alone.”

“I am Ruth,” the Duchess said. “This is Gabrielle.”

“I will have your trunk moved into the Gold Room, milady,” Bentley said, certain that the dropping of titles did not apply to her. “If you later wish another, then we can move you. I fear you will not be impressed with the room. There is not even a bed in it!”

With that the women toured the house. It had two main suites upstairs, the master quarters of the Duke, and the Duchess’s. There were eight other rooms: one for Gabrielle, and the Gold room that Abigail was moving into. The other six were slightly smaller, but still good-sized guest rooms fit for the visitors that would have come to the house in its better years. Now all the rooms were empty, to the point where carpets had been lifted and tapestries and paintings removed. Gabrielle’s room had nothing in it but a bed and a small table made of two wooden trestles with a plank over them and three other gowns spread over them, each older and more tattered than the one she wore.

“I think we need to go shopping tomorrow,” Abigail said. “We all need gowns and other clothes, and more than a few things to decorate these rooms.”

“There is no money for clothes,” the Duchess nearly sobbed. “We should stay at home while you go to the shops. Wilson can accompany you. “She is only a few years older than you, and knows the styles and the stores.”

“Nonsense,” Abigail said. “I will be both hurt and angry if the two of you, and your maids, do not accompany us. And you will get new clothes. My brother will pay for them. He will own them, which will prevent anyone from pawning them for gambling money.”

A wide grin appeared on Ruth’s face. “That is brilliant. We will be pleased to accompany you tomorrow, and will gladly wear any clothes you decide to lend to us.”

A young maid appeared at the end of the hall, and froze until Bentley noticed her and waved her closer. She timidly moved closer. Abigail recognized her from the breakfast: a thin, pale girl with beautiful long red hair to mid back. “This is Abigail Currie, sister to the Earl, and your new mistress,” Bentley said. “For the next two weeks you will be on trial with her as her personal maid.

“What is your name, dear?” Abigail said.

“Wilson, milady,” the girl said softly.

“That would be your father’s name, I think. What is your name?” Abigail repeated.

“I am Gloria Wilson, milady,” the girl said, nearly crying. “I am sorry, milady, but I have no experience in being a personal servant. I worked mostly in the kitchen, or in cleaning crews. Perhaps you would choose someone else?”

“Nonsense, Gloria,” Abigail said in a soothing tone. “Mistress Bentley recommended you, and I value her judgment greatly.” The housekeeper beamed. “It turns out that I have no experience having a personal maid wait on me, so we should fit together splendidly. We will muddle through things together. I know Mistress Bentley considers the two-week trial to be on my side only, but I promise you that if you want to go back to the kitchens at that time, you may. It will be a two-way trial.”

That seemed to calm the girl down, and when the other two maids appeared a few minutes later looking happier for having full stomachs, she fell into step behind them and they followed their mistresses through the house.

Soon after, men started moving furniture into the house, and a beautiful four-poster bed was moved into the Gold Room. Other furniture came in time, but when the women had seen all the house, and went out into the grounds. Bentley stayed behind to direct the delivery people.

It seems that Abigail’s suggestion that the staff start working had some effect. There was a slightly over-grown garden in the back, and there was a man working on trimming it back. Three other men were working elsewhere on the grounds, doing the front gardens, and mowing the lawn. The oldest man Abigail had ever seen, hunched over and able to move only by shuffling his feet, oversaw them. He looked to be eighty, if he was in the 21st century, although here he might only be in his late 60s.

The stable was nearly empty, although there were several men and boys in it clearing it up, and taking old manure out to the gardeners. The carriage they had rented for the day was inside, along with the four horses. While they were there, a vendor arrived with a wagon that held several sacks of grains, including oats. James, the carriage driver, seemed to be in charge.

“Greetings, miladies,” he said. “Your brother has hired me to buy this carriage and team from my prior employer. It will take a bit of work to get the place ship shape, but the lads here are eager and hard workers. You can drop that feed right here and the boys will take it in,” he said to the vendor driver.

“Me boss sed I weren’t to unload nothing till I saw the money,” the driver said. “It’s nine and five for the lot. Yer lot owes the boss money already.”

James flipped up a pound coin to the driver. “Take that. Apply the change to the account. And tell your boss that if he makes up an account of the rest of the charges owing, and gets us to us, it will be paid by the end of the month. And future bills will be paid monthly as well.”

The man started handing out huge cloth bags of grain to the men, along with several heaps of straw and hay¹ that were dumped in the proper places in the stable. Soon the carriage team was being fed, and they eagerly ate the oats given them, and then worked more casually through the hay.

The women left the men to their work, and continued to circle the house. Abigail was astonished at how much maintenance had been let slide. Most window frames needed paint, and the stone work in a few places looked to need a mason. The Duchess told them that the roof was very bad, and needed work, and Abigail made a mental note to tell William, since that should be addressed as soon as possible. In the past when it rained, the staff would run from room to room, emptying buckets and pots containing rainwater, but two weeks ago all the spare pots had been sold to raise money. Apparently they tried to get the pots from the kitchen, and the cook needed to physically accost the men trying to remove her last cooking pots. In retrospect it sounded funny, like a situation comedy, but it showed how bad things were. Abigail noted that she needed to talk to the cook and find out if she had need for additional equipment, or foods beyond what Hockings had recommended that morning.

As they came to the back corner of the house, Abigail saw a building attached to the house that she didn’t recognize from her studies of 17th century architecture. It was round, with a domed roof, and a large door near the rear lane.

“What is that?” she asked Gloria.

“That is the icehouse,” the Duchess explained. “We used to store ice in there from the river every January. The ice would last until the following year, unless it was a really hot summer. It provided a cold room near the kitchen, so we could store meats for a longer time. Last couple years the Duke would sell of the ice when summer came and he could get a decent price for it. But last year he couldn’t afford the wagons to bring ice in at all. It sits empty now.”

Abigail thought for a moment. If the Duke sold ice in the summer, then there must be a vendor who could refill the room. Having even a rudimentary form of refrigeration would be useful.

They went into the house through a rear door near the icehouse, and were met by the smells from the kitchen, primarily the scent of pork being roasted. Abigail went down into the kitchen, but for some reason the Duchess and her daughter didn’t want to join them, and headed up to their suite.

The kitchen was a hive of activity. There was a large worktable that hadn’t been there before, and at least five undercooks were working on it preparing various items. As Abigail had worried, there was a squabble over pots, with the cook finally draining the beets into a serving dish and covering that with a towel to retain the heat, and then letting the other undercook use the pot. She was glad to see that there was a shelf covered with plates, platters, dishes and mugs that hadn’t been there in the morning.

“Milady,” the cook said. “Dinner in 25 … no 30 minutes. Is that young boy of yourn around? I needs a spit boy to turn the ham. I’se had use a wash girl, and that means others have to catch up fer her.”

“Thirty minutes? I need to go up and change. If I see Joe I will send him down.”

Abigail hurried up to her room, with Gloria following. She found a wardrobe had been installed in the room, but her clothes were still in her trunk. Abigail felt the need for a shower, but couldn’t wait the 300 years for one to be invented, so she just had Gloria help her out of her dirty clothes and into a second, cleaner gown.

The girl gasped, looking in amazement at Abigail’s large breasts. “Sorry milady,” she stammered. “I’ve never seen anyone so large. I had assumed you had padding or something in there.”

“Nope, it is all me. It’s like I’m following them around wherever I go. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to them.”

“What? Did they grow that quickly?”

“Quicker than you might think,” Abigail said with a giggle. “But enough of them. More than enough of them, I think. Let’s get a dress on for dinner.”

As they walked down to the dining room, Abigail asked Gloria about cleanliness. She found out that the servants used an outhouse near the stables, but that there was an indoor facility for the family. But it sounded little better than an outhouse, albeit one that was shoveled out and rinsed weekly. Bathing was another matter. Apparently the Duchess called for a bath once a month, while the Duke, and most of the staff worked on the principle that one bath a year was one too many.

In spite of that Abigail insisted that she needed a bath that evening, and Gloria promised to have water boiled. There was a huge tub in the servant’s quarters that would be filled for her. It was stone, built into the foundations, so had not been pawned, as the Duchess’s upstairs tub had been.

Abigail walked into the dining room just as the cook was checking that all was ready. A huge new table dominated the room, and at one end the Duke and his wife sat on chairs, while the other end had William in one chair, and another that Abigail climbed into, with Gloria pushing it in close for her. Gabrielle was on the end of one bench, opposite her mother.

“This is ridiculous,” William said as he looked down at the Duke 24 feet away. The benches could hold eight to ten comfortably on either side, so up to 24 could dine here easily. “We need to get a smaller table for just six. It should fit nicely in that corner.”

With that the meal started appearing. First was a course of soup, which Abigail thought was bean, although she wasn’t sure. It seemed to need seasoning. The main course was ham, of course, and Abigail was only able to eat half of the slab that landed on her plate. The sides were turnips and beets; the latter still warm in spite of the pot debacle downstairs. Finally there was a sweet pudding for dessert that was a bit soggy, but still acceptable.

When Gloria cleared the plates Abigail asked what would happen to the leftovers: she had left a huge portion of ham on her plate, and more than half of the sides that were served with it. The girl whispered back that it would be eaten by the staff, who were just starting to eat downstairs. Abigail was happy to know that the food would not be wasted.

During dinner William and Abigail exchanged information on what they had done during the day. Abi mentioned the problems with the roof, and William ordered Hockings to look into the matter. “I am taking Joe and James out to where ‘the incident’ took place yesterday. And probably two or three of the men. I’d like to take the wagon, but that will be needed to bring in more supplies. I’m sending Kensing and Winthrope out shopping again tomorrow and they will need it. James says that the carriage horses are all trained to be ridden as well, so we will ride those. I’ll probably pick up another common horse to carry our gear. What do you have planned for tomorrow?”

“The ladies and I will be shopping as well. Since you are taking the carriage horses, I don’t know how we will get there though. Perhaps you can send for another carriage from the stage station. Tell them we want it for the day, but this time we won’t be buying it at the end and stealing another driver.”

Just then Bentley came up and told them that the staff had finished eating, and were being assembled in the great room. “Well, let’s join them. We need these benches for folks to sit on,” William said. “Abi and I can carry one, and you and Bentley can take the other.

“Sir,” Hockings said in an astonished voice. “Let me get some men to move them. It isn’t proper for the Lord of a house to do manual work.”

“Don’t be silly,” William replied, and he picked up one end of the bench, and Abi took the other, waiting while the amazed butler and housekeeper took the ends of the other and led to the great room, where the entire staff waited. Jaws dropped as they saw the new lord and lady carrying in a bench for them to sit on.

“Could four of you lads run back to the dining room and get the four chairs?” William said. “I want as many of the ladies as possible to sit on the benches, and the rest can be for the inside men. Those men who work outside can sit on the floor, I suppose. Eventually we will have the place furnished again.”

The servants milled about in confusion. “By ladies, the Earl is using the term broadly to mean all the women staff,” Abigail explained. The servants were amazed at being called ladies.

Soon the staff settled down, and William stood in front of his chair.

1. There is a difference between straw and hay, although a city slicker might not recognize the difference. Hay is harvested grass and is quite nutritious as fodder for animals. Straw is the stalks of grain where the cereal head has been removed, and is used mainly for bedding for animals.

May You Live in Interesting Times

Chapter Four

“As you all must know by now, I am the owner of this house, since noon today. Some things will change, and this meeting will give us a chance to explain things to everyone,” William started.

“First of all, there will be few, if any changes in staff. All of you who have suffered through the past few years should be proud of your accomplishments in keeping the place going as long as it did. I think all of you are still owed salary. This will be paid in full. If any of you need your money immediately, see Hockings immediately after the meeting. I will also be available to discuss matters until after supper, but I will be out on business tomorrow. Hockings will also meet with most of you, starting after the meal and let you know what you are due to receive at the end of the quarter, when I propose that all arrears be carried forward.”

“Now, this is something for you to think on,” he continued. “Many of you will be receiving six or more quarters of pay at Michaelmas¹. I propose giving you up to half in cash, and a note for the balance. The money on notes will be invested, and I expect that it will grow by about 10% per year in safe investments. Thus someone with 100 pounds will see that amount grow to 110 pounds after a year, and 121 pounds the year following. And if you add half your quarterly income in the future the gains will be more impressive. You will receive a statement at the end of each year telling you what your holdings are. If you leave our employment, then you will receive the full amount at the time you leave, or a week or so later. Imagine leaving to marry or start a business, and having perhaps £500 or more.”

“We will leave the money matters be for now. My sister and I are from overseas, and we have some different ideas about how things work. Hockings and Bentley tell me that most houses have a policy preventing fraternization amongst staff. Thus maids cannot become involved with manservants, etc. This bothers me. It seems that maids will reach a certain age, and then leave to marry and have children. The men will marry outside people, and then find they cannot support a household.”

“What I propose is that any staff member who has been with the house for over a quarter will be able to court any other member of the same status. The process is this: a young man who wishes to court a maid, would speak to the butler. The butler will speak to the housekeeper, who will let the maid know of the interest. If the maid is interested in being courted, then she tells the housekeeper, who tells the butler, who finally tells the manservant his interest is returned. From that point forth, there will be a set policy for courting. While details are yet to be completed, it will be something like this: for the first three months the couple will be allowed to sit and talk privately, with a chaperone present. During the following quarter, touching and holding of hands will be allowed. The quarter will allow kissing on the cheek or hand. The fourth three months will allow kissing, but still only in the presence of the chaperone. After a year, the couple may be engaged to be married, and if they do they will be allowed to continue to work in the house in their current positions. Family quarters will be provided.”

“And for those who are not so amorous, there is another innovation we will introduce. That is the day of rest. I know in most houses in the city staff are expected to work every day of the year. In the city apprentices and others are given at least Christmas off. Well we are proposing that every staff member will get one day of rest each week. For most it will be Sunday, but that is not hard and fast. For instance gardeners might get their rest day on a rainy day. And there needs to be staff to keep the house going at all times. This means that people will need to cross-train, which is a fancy way of saying someone else will have to be able to take over your job when you are off. Additional staff will be hired to ensure that we aren’t just making you all do seven days of work in six. And now my sister has something to say, I think.”

Abigail rose. “That’s a lot to take in, isn’t it,” she said lightly, and saw many heads nod blankly in response. “My offer is not so earthshattering. I understand that there are only a few members of the staff who can read and write. I propose to offer classes each evening to teach reading and writing to any staff member who wishes to learn. It is not a requirement to take these classes, but it will give each person an opportunity to advance. The young man shoveling manure in the barn might eventually become a future butler of this house if he learns to read and write, and do his numbers, which we will teach later. I am going to teach the class myself at first. If many sign up, then I will need help, of course. But this is an offer that this house makes to its employees.”

“It isn’t entirely for your benefit,” she continued. “If most of the staff can read and write, then we can send you a note asking you to do something, rather than going to you ourselves, or sending a message with another staffer with a chance of misinterpretation. It will make running this place more efficient, and hopefully a more fun place to work. Now, if none of you have any questions, we all have duties before supper. I can’t promise the same level as dinner was, but it will be better than you have had recently.”

“Gotta be better ‘n nothing,” one wag suggested as the meeting broke up, and this time it was the staff who returned the benches and chairs to the dining room.

Abigail planned to spend the evening making lists of items that would need to be purchased in her shopping trip tomorrow. She decided to head down to the kitchen first, where it was a hive of activity cleaning up after dinner and getting ready for supper.

Abigail approached the cook when it seemed that she had gotten all of her staff busy. “Mistress Boyle,” she said. “I am taking some of the ladies shopping tomorrow, and I wonder what you might need to get the kitchen fully equipped again. I heard earlier today that you have a shortage of pots.”

“Aye, milady, much of what was needed had been sold. I suspect that if you were to supply, say £50 or so I would be able to make up the supplies. The food you brought yesterday is enough for now, but we will need more in a day or two. Without ice, the meat will not last. And there are a few other things we are in need of. I could make a shopping trip one morning to replenish what we need.”

“I hope to get the icehouse restocked,” Abigail said. “Do you know who will have ice for sale?”

“I does, milady,” the cook said. “It will be dear to fill the house at this time, and really we only need half filled, since the hottest weather is past. It will probably cost £20 or so to meet our needs. If you could get me the money, I can arrange it.”

Abigail’s sixth sense flared. Why did the cook need cash? Suppliers were again accepting orders on account with the house. She leaned over to Joe, who was walking past, and whispered a few words into his ear. He immediately grinned widely, and then darted off.

“There is no need for you to go shopping, as several of us are making a trip tomorrow,” Abigail said. “We will pick things up for you. We just need to make a list”

“But you might not buy the right type of pots and such,” the cook protested. “I should see them so we get the right ones.”

“Surely you can describe them, and I will tell the merchant. If they are not the style or quality you need, you can return them and get what is needed. I don’t say that you will not go shopping in the future. It just doesn’t make sense for you to go tomorrow. And there will be no need for you to receive cash. Now that all our suppliers are accepting orders on account, you need not pay on the spot.”

The last sentence floored the cook. She finally accepted that goods could be purchased for her, and started to help make the list. About an hour later Joe returned with an even larger smile on his face. He slipped something to Abigail, whispering a few words and then backed up to watch the fun. Abigail dropped a cloth bag on the table.

“I am alerted that this was found in your room. Apparently it contains £68 in coin, mostly shillings and smaller. Can you explain it?”

“That is mine,” the cook screeched. “How dare you search my room? And take my possessions.”

“This is now my brother’s house, and he has a right to know what is in it,” Abigail retorted back. “And I would still like to know where this money came from?”

“From my wages, if you must,” the cook said hotly.

“My understanding is that no wages were paid for the past three years. I know you have only been here for five quarters, and that you were paid cash in advance for your first quarter, and nothing since. Your pay is £12/10 per quarter. Even if you were paid, there is no way you could have saved £68 in five quarters. Again, I ask you ‘where is the money from?’”

“I will not spend another night in this house,” the woman screeched, and snatched up the sack of money, dropping it down the front of her bosom.

“No, you will not,” Abigail said. “And you will not need to expect any payment on Michaelmas, since it seems you have been paying yourself out of the limited cash that was meant to feed your coworkers. And don’t ask for a reference. Go to your room. Joe and …” she pointed to one of the undercooks “ … she will go with you to make sure that you don’t appropriate anything that belongs to the house.

Fifteen minutes later the cook was gone and the kitchen was in a bit of an uproar. “How did you get into the cooks room, and how did you find the money?” Abi asked Joe.

“It were a good lock on ‘er door,” the boy said. “Took me near five minute to open hit. But I could get in under two now I knows how. The purse were harder to find. It were behind a loose brick ‘neath her pillow. Most people likes to sleep on their cash, so I looks there first.”

“Good work,” Abigail said. “And since I fired the cook, I guess I will have to take her place.” She clapped her hands to get the attention of the undercooks, who were all gossiping about what they had witnessed. Clearly the cook was not well liked in the kitchens. “I will need all of your help to keep things going here. Is there anyone here who is capable of running the kitchens?”

There were a lot of looks back and forth, all negative. “Milady,” one finally said. “Cook tended to get rid of anyone who threatened her position. We all know our own tasks, but none of use could be head cooks. Not yet, anyway.”

“Well then we will muddle through,” Abigail said. “Does anyone know what was planned for supper? Something with leftover ham, I suppose.”

It turns out that the sides and dessert were planned and in preparations. Abigail looked at the remaining ham. Dinner had been roast ham. There was a lot of bacon, but Abi wanted that for breakfasts for the next few days. In the end she managed to come up with five pork chops that would be used for supper. She felt apologetic that there would be no meat for the staff, but the undercooks said that there should be no concern, since all had ample pork at dinner. It was unusual for staff to have meat more than one meal a week, they said. When Abigail promised bacon for the morning rolls, they were all ecstatic.

Abigail spent the next several hours in the kitchen, spoiling another gown. When she finally went up to change, she was exhausted, even though the undercooks had done most of the hard work.

William was astonished to find that his sister had made the supper, and agreed with her that the cook had been dealt with fairly, but too softly. She could have spent time in prison for her theft of funds. Hockings admitted he wondered if some skimming was taking place, but had no proof to accuse the woman. He was astounded at the amount she had taken.

After the meal broke up, there was a large contingent of the staff preparing Abigail’s bath. The stone tub in the basement hadn’t been sold or pawned. After scouting out the room, Abigail decided that a new tub upstairs would not be needed. The rainwater cistern was downstairs, as was the kitchen for heating water. She decided instead that she would use the basement tub in the future rather than having countless staff trailing water through the entire house.

The kitchen’s largest five pots had been filled with water and were heating during the supper, so that hot water was ready. And filling with cold water from the nearby cistern was fairly easy, so in no time at all the tub was ready. It was a little cool, but Abigail didn’t want to wait for more water to boil: the first water would cool during that time. She decided that next bath she would have her maid Gloria get a stick from the gardeners, and mark the level of the cold water. In a few tries she should be able to calculate the ratio to have the tub filled with a warm bath.

Abigail didn’t linger long in the tub. She used the hard soap to rub her body clean, and then had Gloria wash her long hair with the same soap. Apparently shampoo had not yet been invented. When she was done, she wrapped herself in towels that Winthrope had bought today, and then finally put on a night cloak that was sufficiently modest to allow her to walk through the mansion. Of course, without her corset her large breasts flopped about rather alarmingly, but she could do nothing about that other than hold an arm under them.

An hour after leaving the meeting she was in her bedroom, where she found William waiting for her. “A short meeting,” he suggested.

“En francais,” Abigail suggested, glancing at Gloria.

“We could just ask her to leave,” William said in French.

“Yes, and then face gossip about the brother and sister who spend evenings together in her bedroom without a chaperone.”

“Good point. Speaking French will make sure our conversations don’t spread. Do any in the house speak French?”

“Something to find out. I suspect that Hockings, Bentley, and Kensing, the literate stableman are the only possibles. Anyway, what did you want to speak about?”

“Well, I think we should touch base every night or two to make sure we know what the other is doing and what the plans are. Our goal is to get as much information as possible about these times. I admit that I haven’t been able to do much, other than getting the house set up. How about you?” William asked.

“I haven’t really learned much either. I wish that coffee houses existed, so that we could use them for getting information. They won’t exist for another 20 years,” Abi said.

“There are only a few places that a man can currently keep up on the news,” William said. “For the nobles there are the gambling sites, and I really want to avoid that due to the Duke’s history. A common man can go to the pubs, but if a Lord sat down in one, the others would clam up immediately.”

“What if you go as a commoner? When I am shopping tomorrow, I will pick up a used workman’s garb. If you get back from your mission soon enough, you will be able to go to one of the pubs for a bit. Just don’t come barging in here if you are drunk tomorrow night.”

“That sounds like a plan,” William said. “Also, we should each start writing a journal. Do we need to encode them? We could write them in Esperanto?”

“I am ahead of you on that,” Abi said. “I purchased paper, quills, and ink for you, and you will find it in your room. As for code, I think we should write in 1600s English. There will be nothing in them that needs to be kept secret. I will call mine a diary, and you can call yours a Chronicle of our time in London. We will have to come up with some way to make sure they survive to the 21st century.”

“Oh, I wanted to tell you about a note we got in the satchel. I sent a message explaining about your er, additional attributes,” William looked briefly at Abi’s large bust line, barely concealed in her night attire. “You were right. One of the grad students in the physics department did make changes, as you surmised. The department investigated and was able to determine which computer made the changes, and the lad confessed. I don’t know why he would do such a thing: it was not like he would ever see the new you. Maybe he was able to get off just thinking about it. Anyway, he was not only kicked off the team, but was expelled from the university. It will be interesting to see if he gets his Master’s elsewhere.”

The pair chatted for another few minutes, then William left the room, and Abigail spent an hour on her journal before she laid down to sleep.

1. 1 Michaelmas was one of the four quarter days in England at this time (Lady Day, Midsummer, and Christmas being the others). Michaelmas fell on September 29. Servants were hired and paid on the quarter days.

This is the last of the stories that were written in advance for this series, so don't expect updates every two days any longer. It will probably be a week before Chapter 6 is ready: Dawn

May You Live in Interesting Times

Chapter 5

William rose early and found Joe sleeping in the hall outside his door. He prodded the boy with a foot, waking him.

“Is it time, milord?” the boy said, quickly getting up. “I’se ready to go.”

“Don’t you have a bed downstairs?” William asked.

“Aye. A right fine one,” Joe said. “But I wants to be ready, you see, so I curled up here. This carpet ‘s a finer mattress than most I’se slept on lately.”

“Good. Well, can you run and get James from the stables? Bring him to the kitchen where we will break fast. He should bring two others with him, and have others get the horses ready.”

“Aye sire,” Joe said, running off. William smiled at seeing the urchin run. He seemed so happy in his new position. When they had freed him, William had wondered about Abigail’s judgment, but it was clear that she was right. He headed off to the indoor latrine, and soon after was in the kitchen, where there were already several undercooks present, although not the cook. Instead Abigail was up early, keeping things organized for breakfast. She then intended to head out shopping while the undercooks prepared dinner. She planned to cheat and buy a cooked roast for the main meal of the day.

When Joe returned with the men, there were five bacon buns ready for them, using the remains of yesterday’s hog. The men (and Joe) ate as they walked back to the stables. The four carriage horses were saddled and ready, and there were 10 sacks made from grain bags on the saddle of the Earl’s horse.

The four men mounted, and Joe said he would run alongside. William wouldn’t allow that, and had him mount double behind the smallest of the stable hands. They set out and reached the stage inn shortly, where William purchased a common horse that would serve as a baggage horse, as well as being a mount for Joe, who was proud to ride a horse of his own. He named his steed Jerry and petted and coaxed it along for the ride.

It took the men an hour to get to the spot they sought. They came to the big tree that William, James, and Rich, the guard, had pushed to the side of the road to allow the coach through after the attempted robbery. It had been chopped into small pieces so it could not be used again by another gang. Looking at it, it was clear that farmers or others had taken some of the pieces of the trunk, and most of the kindling created by the smaller branches. No doubt in another few days there would be no sign left of the fallen tree.

Joe took the lead from this point and they walked their horses through narrow paths away from the road for another half hour. The cave was on the side of a low rise, and was only about three feet high at the entrance. Inside it opened up, and most of the men could stand upright, although William needed to stoop a bit. Joe ran to the back, where firewood was stored, and knocked the pile aside, then kneeled down and started to scoop out the sand, looking like a dog digging out a rabbit hole.

The room was nearly dark, lit only by the light from the small cave opening, so William gathered some of the scattered firewood, and used a flint to get a blazing fire going that lit the room greatly. As the fire started, Joe let out a squeal of delight. He had found the first piece of treasure, a fancy bejeweled necklace that must have been owned by a Lady. He handed it to William, who admired it, and decided that it must have cost well over £100.

Joe had slowed down, and was pulling out something with every handful of sand. There were many rings, earrings, and more necklaces. There were male jewels as well, rings, gold and silver arm bands, pocket flasks of the same materials, and ornate jeweled buckles. By the time the boy eased up after an hour, there were more than 200 items. With Joe exhausted, William set another man to the task and a half hour later the third man replaced him. Joe went back in after that, and found that while the others had continued in a straight line in, he was able to find more by veering off to the left and the right. It was well after noon when they finished, and true to Joe’s estimate there were seven bags full of loot when they finished, and even Joe could not find any more items. The man took the bags out and put three of them on Joe’s horse, and took one each on the other horses. The bags were not huge, but much of the contents were gold, making them heavy.

As they followed Joe back to the road William apologized: “Sorry lads, but I don’t want to stop off anywhere to eat. I just want to get this all back to the house, and hopefully we can get a bite there.” There was a giggle from the front. “What’s that Joe?” William asked.

“Pity. Me hasing to miss a meal after all the good eats I’se gotten with you and milady. Afore that it were missing a week that was sorryfull.”

“And you won’t miss one this time either,” William kidded back. “It will just be delayed.”

It took almost two hours to get back to the house, since James knew of some back roads that allowed them to get home without riding down the busiest streets. Soon they had moved all the bags into William’s office, and placed them behind the desks. That allowed them to go down to the kitchen, were supper preparations were underway. A new younger cook was on duty now, and she was able to find some food for them from the dinner leftovers.

Hockings was in his cubbyhole of an office, meeting staff one at a time and trying to determine how much pay they wanted. William had left him with a substantial stack of pound coins, and each staff member was given one. A few pleaded for more for some reason, and if the reason seemed valid, additional arrears were paid. Most were willing to wait the three weeks to quarter day, when full arrears were given. And even then most staff would only be taking a quarter’s pay, with the arrears all going into a savings account. The staff had argued over the plan through the night, and at breakfast, and most agreed that it was a boon that they would take up. Having retirement money was unheard of for their class and they wanted to take advantage.

---- -- ----- -----

Abigail finished serving breakfast about an hour after William had left, and headed out on her shopping trip using the carriage her brother had sent for her. The first stop was at a seamstress, who was happy to find that Abigail was ready to pay for all the arrears from the house, some more than two years old. She then was even more surprised to learn of the new order. Abigail ordered five gowns for herself, and three each for the Duchess and Gabrielle. One gown was ordered for Gloria. Then the big sale came up. Abi wanted three new outfits for each of the staff in the house. There would be two normal outfits for working, and one special one to be used when special guests came. This totaled over 100 outfits, and the seamstress noted that it would take several months to finish the order. Abigail asked if it was possible that she share out the work with others in her trade, since she wanted it fulfilled in a month. The seamstress agreed.

Gabrielle was in heaven. The little girl hadn’t had a new gown created for her since she was an infant, and she reveled in selecting fabrics and styles. The Duchess was more restrained, and several times Gabrielle chided her mother for choosing styles that were out of date. Abigail wondered how the girl was so up in fashion: women’s magazines were still 300 years away.

Abi selected four gowns that Gabrielle claimed would be very stylish, and in the fifth one she specified something new: a keyhole neckline that would plunge down her impressive cleavage. If she was going to have to carry these things around, she wanted to make sure that people didn’t assume they were stuffed with whatever the 17th century equivalent of Kleenex was. She said it was a new style from France.

They spent two hours at the seamstress, and then had to rush to get the rest of their shopping done. The next stop was at the tinsmith where they used the list that the disgraced former cook had helped create to make a large order of pots and pans. The shop was full of ready-made goods that Abi picked from, with the assistance of her maid Gloria, who had worked in the kitchen until recently.

“Those,” Abigail pointed to a tall, thin tin that seemed to hold about a quart. “Do they have lids?”

“No milady, but lids could be created,” the master said. “I have 2 ready to sell. Do you want one, or both?”

“I need 12,” Abigail said as she examined the sample. “With lids. And I also need a large pot that will hold all of these, with several inches of space in between. None of these on display are large enough, so I suppose it will have to be custom made for us. And a lid for that. The pot should be good copper, but the lid can be a lesser metal, perhaps the same as these little tins.”

The selected goods were loaded into the carriage, and Abigail was ready to go home, when Gloria pointed out a final shop. It was a soapmaker.

The master in this shop was a woman, who inherited the business when her husband died. “I hope you can give me some information about soap making,” Abi said.

“I’ll not give out my formulas so youse can make yer own soap,” the woman said curtly.

“Oh, no. We don’t want anything like that. I was just wondering: soap is rather hard, isn’t it?”

“Aye, most folks like it that way. It lasts longer, yer see.”

“Yes,” Abi agreed. “And that is perfect for household use. But I wonder if a softer soap could be used: for personal use in the bath?”

“Why that’d be possible. In fact, I ‘spect that nobles such like yerself would be interested in that.”

“Yes, especially if you were to use scent in the formula. Imagine soap that had a faint smell of rose, or berries,” Abi said.

“Aye, that’d sell to the nobs,” the woman said then realized she had used a derogatory term for nobles. “Not yerself, milady. Yer seems more like a normal person than a noble.” Abigail smiled, remembering herself in the kitchen this morning. Nothing noble to that image.

“One last thing. Is soap ever made that is not solid. Runny like a liquid?”

“Not in my shop, milady,” the woman said. “They’s some that make mistakes and the soap won’t go solid. I’se knows the tricks to firm it up though.”

“Could you make me some liquid soap?” Abi asked. “Preferably scented once you get the hang of that. It would be for cleaning that hair. Ideally it would foam up as it was rubbed into the hair.”

“Aye. I ‘spect I could do that,” the woman said. “That’s another thing that nobles would like. Milady, your ideas will make my shop famous with them.”

“Not just nobles,” Abigail said. “I suspect when word gets out the better off merchants will adopt the new soaps. The liquid version is called cham-poo by the women in India, where I grew up.”¹

“Sham-poo,” the woman said. “Is there a name for the other?”

“That is just called hand and body soap,” Abigail said. She then bought several months supply of hard soap for the house, and they left, returning to the house at eleven.

Back at the house Abigail headed down to the kitchen immediately, putting on one of the new aprons that had been bought the day previously. The cooked roast that they picked up at the cook house was put in the oven to keep warm, and Abi found that all the undercooks had prepared the sides and dessert for the meal.

“The Earl and his men are not yet back,” one undercook said. “Do we do dinner for noon, or wait till they return?”

Just like a man not to phone, Abi thought, then giggled. She was well aware that cell phones were a long way from being invented. “No, we won’t make all the staff wait just because the master is late for dinner,” she announced.

There was silence throughout the kitchen for a few minutes. The staff could not believe what they had heard. The needs of the staff coming before that of the master was just not something that was done in 1642. Slowly things were made ready for the meal in a half hour.

Just then a young woman of about 30 came into the kitchen, and started talking to one of the women making bread dough for the evening meal. After a bit the undercook brought the woman over.

“This is Delilah Summner,” the undercook said. “She worked with us five or six years ago, and then took a job at Lord Tennes kitchen as a cook. She had heard about some of the changes you and the master have made, and wanted to talk.”

“Is it true that you allow your staff to court?” Delilah asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Abi said. “It is a one year program so that staff can be sure they are compatible. After that they can marry, and continue working for the house.”

“Wow. That sounds incredible,” the woman said. “I have decided that I need to look at getting a family. I have met a man from another house, where he is assistant to the head gardener. We have spoken a few times after church, the only time we can meet. He said he wants to marry me, so I told the housekeeper at the Tennes house I would be leaving at Christmas, the end of the next quarter. She got quite upset, and said I couldn’t leave then because Christmas was so busy and new cooks would be hard to find.”

“So a few hours ago some woman comes in … from here I understand … and says she is a cook. The housekeeper hired her on the spot, and paid me my quarter wages. I offered to stay until Michaelmas, but the new cook claimed that she didn’t want another cook around. I was paid my quarter but now I am out. I was hoping that there would be a job here, but it seems that you have beat me to it.”

Abigail realized that the woman thought she was the new cook. She was about to explain that, when an undercook took the meat from the oven. “How is it that your oven is not hot if you are making bread?” Delilah asked.

“There is a roaring fire under,” Abi said. “I thought the heat would transfer up to the oven.” The oven was situated right above the fireplace where the spit usually sat.

“That will never get hot enough for bread. You need a very hot oven for bread. Have you ever made bread before?”

“Not with an oven like this,” Abigail said. Douglas had made bread as a hobby at home, but hadn’t found anything to explain bread making in 1642 in his research. “What should I do?”

“Well, normally you start a hot fire inside the oven. Burn it for a few hours, and then the oven will be hot enough. You just sweep out the ashes quickly, and then put the bread in. But your bread is already on its final rise. It needs a hot oven in 45 minutes to an hour or it will over rise and be ruined.”

“Oh my,” Abi said.

“There is a trick though, if you have coal. A coal fire will burn hot quicker than wood, although you will need wood for a starter.”

“There is a coal bin behind the oven, milady,” an undercook said. “There might be some coal left.”

She took Abi and Delilah back to the rear of the stove and fireplace, where they found two metal doors for the oven and for the firepit on one side, and a dark room on the other side: the coal bin. Abi picked up a small shovel and rooted around the bin, finding about five lumps of coal left.

“There seems to be five lumps left,” Abi said. “But there is a great deal of coal dust.”

“That is good. Coal dust burns much quicker than the lumps, so if you put five or 10 shovels full in on the burning faggot it will heat up quickly. Then add the lumps. They won’t burn completely in 45 minutes, but you can put them in the firepit when you clear out the oven,” Delilah said.

Abi saw that someone had put a faggot of small sticks into the oven from the other side, as well as two branches from the fire that were burning on one end. She started scooping in coal dust, and when her count was to ten, she added the lumps. The faggot was now fully ablaze, and most of the coal dust as well. As she was adding the coal, Delilah continued to chat: “I heard one of the undercooks refer to you as milady. Is it normal for the staff here to call the cook milady?”

Abi laughed as she shoveled. “No, no. I am not the cook. I was about to tell you when you noticed the oven was not hot. I am the sister of the Earl who owns the house. When I fired the old cook for theft, I decided that I needed to help out until we found someone to take her place? Do you want the job?”

“Milady,” Delilah curtseyed. “And I let you shovel coal! Normally the spit boy does that. It can be quite dirty work. Forgive me.”

“No need,” Abigail said. “A little work never hurt anyone. And a little dirt will wash out.” She stepped out of the bin, slamming the rear oven door shut as she did.

“Oh my,” Delilah said as Abi got into the dim light of the kitchen. Abi looked down at her hands and lower arms, which were black with coal dust. Abi realized that her face was probably the same color.

“Milady, we needs take you to a sink immediately. But how to do so without the staff all seeing you?”

“Nonsense. It won’t hurt them to know I do a bit of work when needed.” With that she walked out into the kitchen where everyone stopped again. Although this time is was not to silence, but giggling.

“I know, I look a fright,” Abi said with a chuckle. “I want you all to take note that Delilah Summner here has accepted the job as cook, so you are no longer being led by an incompetent. Now all of you stand back until I get to the sink where I can get rid of this mess. And you may laugh now, but remember who will have to clean this soot from my clothes.”

With that she went to the sink. Delilah got a tub of lard from an undercook, and brought it to Abi. Apparently you can coat the coal dust with lard, and then it will mix in. When you scrape off the dirty lard, it will take most of the dust with it. The dirty lard would then go to the stables to grease wagons.

Abi and Gloria spent the next hour cleaning her up. First the lard on her face and arms, and then several bars of soap were used until they were black. As one bar was replaced by the other, an undercook scraped the sooty layer from the soap, so it could be used again. Finally, Abi was clean, although her gown was filthy. She stripped right there, since there were only women in the kitchen. The gown and apron went straight to the laundry while Gloria sped up to her room to choose another gown.

One interesting thing was that every woman in the kitchen came over at one point or the other to peer at Abi in her underclothes. Apparently many of them had insisted that she wore padding, and were duly impressed by the massive breasts that rode on the cups of the corset.

When she was dressed, she noticed that servers were returning to the kitchen with platters from the dining room. “Did I miss dinner?” Abi asked.

“You did say you wanted the meal served on time. The Duke, Duchess, and the girl have all eaten. But we can take another plate up for you,” an undercook said.

“Well, all of you will be eating now, as well as the men, right? I will join you.”

The meal started quietly, with the staff afraid to speak out in front of their mistress. Abi broke that up by telling the men about her experiences in the coal bin. Soon the entire table was laughing merrily as they ate, bonding as a team with the new cook and their mistress.

“We need more coal,” Abi said, starting the chuckles again. “Although this time I shall not be involved. Who looks after that?” Delilah looked at Kensing, the literate stablehand. “Normally the stables pick it up when the cook says it is needed,” Kensing said. “The coal seller’s right near the grain dealer.”

“Can you pick up a load?” Abi asked.

“Consider it done,” he said. “How much is needed?”

The cook guessed that the bin could hold 200 pounds.

“Two sacks then?” Kensing said.

“Make it five or six,” Abigail suggested. “It there room to store the rest in the stables or a barn? We don’t need to scrimp on supplies any more.”

“Aye,” Kensing said. “That’ll make a load then. The dealer will deliver. I will send a boy over to make the order. I wonder if we have an account with him.”

“If we do, it will be in arrears,” Abi said. “Get five pounds from Hockings for your boy to take with him, and tell the merchant that the rest of the account will be cleared in full when the coal is delivered. If the master is not back yet, I will approve the account.”

The master did arrive at the same time as the coal, with several interesting bags that were stored in the office next to the satchel. He and his men ate a late dinner in the dining room, which embarrassed the stable men not used to being in there. They had barely warm beef, but covered in a tasty gravy the new cook had made, as well as sides that had been reheated for a few minutes in the now cooling oven. They also had a bonus: fresh bread only a half an hour out of the oven.

Shortly thereafter William went up to his room, finding the workman’s clothes that Abi had picked up for him at a rag merchant next to the seamstress. Once he put it on, he no longer looked noble. Luckily he had the short hair of the roundheads, not the long locks of a Cavalier, which would have made concealing his status impossible. He made sure that the only coin he had were pence and a few shillings. Carrying gold pounds would immediately flag him as a noble or a thief.

He sent Joe to find James, and then the two men slipped out a side door, unseen. They appeared to be two workmen when they entered the tavern at the stage office, where several people recognized James, and invited them to their table.

1. I surprised myself on this one. In researching Wikipedia to check, I find the idea of shampoo did come from India, where it as called Cham-po. It didn’t come to England until the early 1800s, so Abi is just causing an earlier arrival. Of course Abi will not know that her story about India rang true.

May You Live in Interesting Times

Chapter Six

William and James sat at a crude table in the bar, and William listened to the men talk. He occasionally added a comment or two, always keeping the men talking about politics and the troubles. He only sipped at his beer, but continued to buy rounds for the table, thus quickly becoming popular. The men knew that James had taken a position at a posh house, and William said he worked there as well, without specifying what job.

After several hours the men at that table became too drunk to make sense, including James, so William looked around the tavern. He saw some military-looking types at another table that had a spare seat, so he moved over to it.

“Would you gents object to a civilian joining you? I could spring for a few rounds if you wish,” William said.

“Aye, if you bring more ale, then you are most welcome,” said a man with an empty mug. “Besides, Billy and me aren’t going to be military in the future.” He showed that he had a badly wounded arm, and Billy was missing a leg just above the knee.

“The king took the other half at Hull,” Billy said. “We was outnumbered, but we holds out until Charlie got tired of it all and went somewhere else to play. Jerry took a gunshot in the arm, and busted the bone. It didn’t set very well, so he is now an ex-soldier like me.”

William talked to the five men for several hours, but this time was buying rounds more slowly so they wouldn’t get drunk so soon. William, as the Hobbit, had studied the Siege of Hull extensively, but the men gave him valuable new information in explaining their part in it. At one point he brought out a piece of paper and a pencil, and sketched the castle, claiming to have been there at one time. Then the men pointed out strongpoints, and areas where the Royalists had attacked, giving dates and times, how long the skirmishes lasted, and the results, which William noted on another piece of paper.

To the soldiers he was just an interested liveryman who wanted to know what had happened. One soldier joked that perhaps he was a spy, and William joked back that spies look for things that will happen in the future, and not what happened in the past. After that the men were even more open.

It was well after midnight when the men started getting too drunk to talk, so William went back to his first table and gathered up James, who was snoring with his head in his arms. William roused him, and led him out of the bar and headed home, with William keeping a firm grip on James’ shoulder, since the stable manager had a tendency to weave alarmingly back and forth otherwise.

At the house the night porter let them in, and William ordered the man to take James around outside to his room in the stables. The man was looking more and more as if he was going to vomit, and William didn’t want to have to wake maids to clean it up. He locked the door behind him, and then slowly made his way up the stairs to his room. He had barely gotten his workman’s clothes off when he heard a clamor at the door. He heard the night porter rushing back through the house to find out what was happening. William decided to put on one of the fine robes that Abi had purchased for him and go down to see what the clamor was.

At the door he found the Duke, and four other men, looking quite angry. “There he is,” the Duke said, slightly tipsy himself. “He is my cousin, and he will pay you. With that the Duke slumped to the floor.”

“Pay you what?” William demanded.

The man who appeared to be the leader of the four spoke: “Your Lord has lost at gambling, and says you will pay. It is £218.”

“I will pay no such thing,” William said. “I gave the Duke £10 to gamble. Anything beyond that is not my business.”

“The £10 was gone in two minutes,” the Duke mewled. “I couldn’t come home so soon. I figured I would win some eventually, and be able to pay. My luck needs to change some time.”

“It hasn’t served you well for the past dozen years, has it,” William retorted. “Yet you persist.”

“No problem,” the man said. “We will just take goods worth £200. Take that table, and that vase. That should make £50” He pointed to have his henchmen take the goods and looked around for more to take.

“Now just a minute,” William said. “If you touch anything in this house I will have you charged with robbery. This house and everything in it is mine. The Duke is a pauper. He doesn’t even own the clothes he is wearing. I do. And I say you will get nothing from me.”

The man got redder and redder as he realized he was not going to get his money. “Then your cousin will be called up to the Common Pleas court, and will live in the Fleet until he comes up with the money.” With that the men spun about and left.

“Go to your room, John,” William told the Duke as they made their way to the stairs. “You have made a right mess of things, haven’t you?”

“You won’t let them take me to the Fleet, will you? I can’t imagine living in a prison.”

“You leave me no choice,” William said. “If I cover your debts this time, then it will be known that I fund you, and any future debts will come to me. This house was nearly lost once due to gambling, it will not happen again on my watch.”

“But I have no income. How will I pay off the debt?”

“You get £10 a week. I will hold onto that until your debt is cleared,” William said.

“No! I need that money. In the Fleet I could probably gamble for hours with £10.”

“You would rather spend the rest of your life in prison than go a few months without gambling?” William asked in amazement. Just as amazing was the length of time that the Duke spent thinking over the options.

“No, I guess I need the money to pay the debt,” the Duke said as they reached the top of the stairs.

“I suggest you not mention this to the Duchess tonight,” William said as they parted ways to their individual rooms.

--- -- --- -- -

Earlier that evening Abigail had her first reading class, and she was surprised to see nearly two dozen staff members, including Joe, come to the great room to see what she had for them.

Kensing and Winthrope had again been shopping, and at Abi’s request had stopped in a stationer’s shop, where they bought 12 slate boards, and some chalk. Abigail found neither the slate nor the chalk to be anything like she had experienced in the 21st century. The chalk was hard and made only a thin scratch on the slate, which was much rougher than she had expected. As well, they had picked up some blank sheets of paper, and some broadside tracts complaining about the King. She had asked for 50 of these, which only cost 2 shillings. People would buy these in bulk from the stationers, and then sell them for a penny each on the street, more than doubling their money. Abigail had other uses for them.

When everyone was settled down on the two rows of benches, Abigail started. Delilah had come up, and since she read well, the cook was to be assistant teacher, and she handed out the slates to pairs of people.

“We will start by learning the alphabet,” Abigail said, getting a sheet of paper and drawing a capital ‘A’ on a sheet of paper. “This is the letter ‘A’: or at least one version of it. There are also two different lower case ‘A’s and several variations in handwriting. We start with this version, since it is the easiest to draw. Almost the easiest of all the letters. Two sloped lines, and then a line that connect them. You might think it looks like the old conical hats women wore long ago. Now I want each of you to draw an ‘A’ like this on your slate. When one is finished, flip the slate so your partner can try.”

Abigail and Delilah went through the group, each starting at one end of the benches. They complimented those who got the shape right, although that was not frequent. Most of the comments were “good try” or tips like “Try to make the cross stoke go all the way from one line to the other, and not past.”

Joe actually had one of the perfect shapes, so he was sent down to the kitchen to get some damp rags. He ran, of course, and Ami smiled. The happy little fellow seemed to run everywhere, and always had a smile on his face. Other faces on the benches were not smiling. One or more tongues were stuck out as the students concentrated to get acceptable shapes. They simply drew over top of prior versions until Joe returned with rags, used to wipe the slates clean.

After a time, all the students could make an acceptable ‘A’ and Abigail went to get another sheet of paper.

“The capital letter is used at the start of a sentence, at the start of a name, and some other places. Some signs and titles are made entirely of the capital letters. But there is also a lower case letter which is used elsewhere. I know of two main shapes that are used in different places for the lower ‘a’.” She drew a simple primer ‘a’ on the top half of the paper. “This shape is fairly easy to draw. A circle with a stick on the side. A lot of lower letters are like this. The difference is whether the stick is short or long, and whether the long ones go up or down. The side the stick is on is also important. But don’t worry about that now. Finally, I need to show you the other form, which is used in printed materials. It looks like a face, with a little hat drawn over it, like this.”

The students then made their attempts. More were getting the hang of the chalk and slate, and got the primer ‘a’ easily, although some of the circles were less than perfect. The printer’s ‘a’ was more work. Abigail noticed a few where the cap was on backwards. Also, the staff was having trouble with the idea that the bottom loop was more of an oval than the circle of the primer ‘a’. Finally, everyone seemed to get it.

“Okay class, I think we will just have the one letter today. But the important thing for you is that you can recognize it among other letters. So Delilah is handing out some broadsheets we bought so you could find the letters in it. You will find the capital ‘A’ sometimes, and the printer’s ‘a’ more often. But I don’t think that you will find any primer ‘a’s.

Joe gathered the slates, and Delilah handed a broadsheet to each student. Soon all the students were pouring through the mass of text, exclaiming when they found an ‘A’ or an ‘a’.

“Milady, I found a primer ‘a’,” one of the stablemen said. Abigail went to look.

“No Peter, that is not an ‘a’. See how the stick goes up above the circle? That makes it a ‘d’. There is a funny thing about the ‘d’. If you could twist it around so it was upside down, it would be a ‘p’, which is the first letter of your name, although it should be a capital. Look, here is a ‘p’. And here is a capital P, which you will need to know when we get to the point of printing out names.”

After a few more minutes of searching for letters, Abigail noted that Peter was looking for ‘p’s as well as ‘a’s. Abi decided to add another part to the lesson, and she and Delilah went through the group and showed them where to find the first letter of their own name. Luckily there were no ‘Q’ or ‘Z’ names, which would have been hard to find on the broadsheet.

After another quarter hour of students looking for these letters Abigail wrapped things up. It had been nearly two hours of class, and students were starting to lose attention.

“That is all class,” she announced. “I am pleased with how you all did. I have no doubt that in a few months you will all know the alphabet, and be able to read and write your own names. I know some of you have had trouble drawing the shapes. Don’t worry. You will get better, and in time your shapes will be clearer. I intend to have the slates stored in the kitchen. You can borrow one whenever you have some spare time to practice. The broadsheets are yours to keep. Please take care of them: we have spares, but not enough to be wasted. See you tomorrow for the letter B.”

With that the class ended, and some men took the benches back into the dining room. Abigail had Joe take the slates to the kitchen, warning him to only take four at a time, and not to run. He did run back between his trips, and then came back to the hall, standing near the wall waiting to see if anything else was needed. Abi sent him off, as she and Gloria headed up to her room. Joe ran out to the stable, so see if ‘his’ horse Jerry needed anything, including some brushing.

------ - -------- ---

The next morning Abigail awoke to a screech coming from the Duchess’s room. She hurried over, following Gabrielle into her parents’ room, and found a hung-over Duke huddled in the corner as the Duchess threw shoes at him.

“Do you know what this man did?” the Duchess screamed. “Do you know what your father did? He went out gambling last night and overspent his limit, thinking the Earl would cover his losses. Well, he won’t and now this cretan is going to wind up in the Fleet prison. I’ll never be able to show my face in this town again.”

“Oh my,” Abigail said. “Perhaps I could speak with William.”

Everyone went back to their rooms and dressed, and then went down to breakfast. While they were eating a breakfast that Delilah had come up with with eggs and refried squash from last night. There was also reheated beef. It was a special meal for the families, since the staff had gotten used to having buns with cheese and beef or bacon for breakfast. During the meal Abi asked William about the Duke, and the Earl explained why he could not bail the man out.

Just as the meal was served, a rapping at the front door announced the arrival of a Beadle to take the Duke to court. At first he insisted that they must leave immediately, but when Abigail suggested that the officer join them in breakfast time was no longer so important.

Once the meal was finished, William had Kensing come up and accompany the men to the trial, so that he could find out what will happen in court. He sent Joe along with them.

William spent the rest of the morning in his office, and Abigail, who had nothing planned and didn’t want to go into the kitchen and bother the new cook, rapped on the door. She went in at his call, and closed the door behind her.

“What’cha doing,” she asked, glad to use some 21st century slang as they were alone.

“I’m building up a report on the Siege of York earlier this year. I met some veterans from there last night, and they really gave me some detailed information: a lot of it stuff that isn’t in the history books.”

“For the satchel, I suppose?” Abi guessed.

“Well, I will send the rough draft through the satchel. It will keep the guys in the department busy for weeks. But the good copy is going with me to Parliament tomorrow. I plan to meet with John Pym, who is the unofficial treasurer of Parliament now. I plan to pay £500 in taxes, enough to get me an interview with the man. Then I will show him this report, in hopes of getting an official position that will allow me to go to future battles, and produce future reports.”

“That sounds great,” Abi said. “You know when and where battles are going to happen, and you have studied all the history books and records about them. You will be able to find a nice safe place to stand while the battle is on, and learn a ton more about what happened from a first person perspective.”

“Right,” William said. “But I do need permission from one side or the other, or I could be arrested as a spy. And I will need to get a really good horse or two, and official permission will prevent the army from seizing them. Parliament is the better choice, since they are going to win in the end, and will win most of the battles. I know the ones where the King wins, so I will just have to make sure I am in a safer location for those.”

“The Battle of Powick Bridge,” Abigail recited. “That is just over two weeks away.”

“Right. Good memory,” William said. “After that battle I will have a month until Edgehill. I think I will come back here between, even though they are quite close to each other in Warwickshire and Worchestershire. It will give me a chance to present my report, as well as checking in here. I hope you will be able to cope with the house.”

“No problem,” Abigail gestured at the sacks piled in the corner. “What are we going to do with all that?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave that with you, Abi,” William said. “We need to return it to its rightful owners, of course. Perhaps you can have the Duchess take a look at it. She may recognize some of the jewels from seeing their owners wearing them, for a start. Maybe bring in a jeweler or two to see if they can identify any of it.”

“I will get on it when you are at parliament tomorrow,” Abigail said. Just then there was a rapping at the door, and she opened it to find Kensing there. He stepped in and reported to the Earl.

“The Duke’s case has just been completed. He has been transported to Fleet prison, and will be there until the debt is paid. I sent Joe to run after the wagon he was transported in, and get any details about the prison we need to know.”

“The beadle took us to a Middle Temple court, where I was required to pay two pence for a seat. Another four pence bought me an explanation from a clerk as to what was happening. The Duke was put in a holding area with many common folk, and called slightly later.”

“When he identified himself as Duke of Spritzland, the judge told him that this was a court of Common Pleas, and here he was just John Spritzland. He was told that his lawyer could move the case to the Court of King’s Bench if he wanted to be tried as a noble. The judge was rather surprised to find that the Duke had no lawyer.”

“The case lasted less than a minute. The judge asked if the Duke disputed the debt, and was told no. He then asked if the Duke disputed the amount, and was told no. With that the judge sentenced him to Fleet prison until the debt is paid, and another £20 for court costs. My clerk told me he would be taken to the prison about an hour later. I waited till that time, then sent Joe after him.”

“Thank you,” William said, flipping a shilling to Kensing, indicating he should keep the change. “Were there any costs for Joe?”

Kensing smiled. “No. They wanted to charge him tuppence for a seat as well, but he just darted away from the clerks. Eventually there were three clerks and two beadles chasing after the boy. It provided quite the amusement for those waiting to hear cases, although the judges trying earlier cases seemed less than amused. Eventually he dashed past me and I told him to wait outside the courts. No doubt if he had been caught, he too would be sent to prison.”

“If I am not mistaken, we will have to send food or money for food to the prison for the Duke,” Abi noted. “The carriage will be free today. After dinner we will send a plate for him, along with two meat and cheese rolls. He can save one of those for his supper and the other for breakfast. I don’t want to be sending three carriages a day for him. I suspect that the Duchess and Gabrielle will want to go see him.”

“Do look after it,” William said. Kensing left to go get the carriage ready, and Abi left to see how dinner was coming, as well as letting the Duchess and her daughter know the result of the trial.

May You Live in Interesting Times

Chapter Seven

After dinner, Abigail joined the equally distraught Duchess and Gabrielle for the carriage ride to the prison. They parked outside, and found Joe there waiting.

“I never got in,” the boy said. “They says it cost tuppence to get in ter visit. I done went all around the place. They’s usually a hidy hole or somewhat to sneak in, but couldn’t find one.”

“Well, it is a jail,” Abi said, amused that the boy was indignant at the thought that there was a building in London that he couldn’t sneak into. “I shall pay for all of us to get in.”

Their admission didn’t include any information on where the Duke was being held. That took another four pence, and Abi insisted that the fee would include their being escorted to the cell.

They walked through the prison, and saw some rather comfortable looking cells: not as lavish as those in the Tower of London, but respectable. They walked far past these, with the cells becoming more and more spartan. Eventually they reached dark, damp cells, and found the Duke sharing a cell with an old, wizened man.

“You really is a Duke then?” the ancient said in surprise. “I thought you just stole some clothes and was saying that.”

Gabrielle gave her father a long hug, while the Duchess stood away for a few moments, trying to convey her dislike at being married to an inmate, and then rushed over and also hugged her husband lovingly. She clearly still adored the man, in spite of all his faults. When they were through, Abigail handed the Duke the plate they had brought with them. There was no table in the cell, only two mean cots, and the Duke sat at the one that was his and ate as his family chatted with him, as though he had been gone for weeks, and not just a few hours.

When he was finished, he was given the two rolls, wrapped in paper, and Abigail explained that someone would be back after lunch on the morrow with more food. The four visitors left the cell, which was locked behind them by a turnkey.

On the way back the Duchess bemoaned the low status location her husband was in, and begged Abigail to look into moving him to one of the higher status cells. At the warder’s office, Abi did ask about the nicer cells, and was told that there was a fee of a pound a week to get into those. The middle range cells were four pence a night, or two shillings a week, and they included ‘full range’ which meant the prisoner could wander the facility at will during the daylight hours, and were only locked in after dark.

The Duchess wanted the more expensive cells, but Abi only agreed to the medium class ones, and paid eight shillings for four weeks. She insisted that this should include visitor fees for whoever brought the meals in. The Duke would also have the cell to himself with no sharing.

It was early afternoon when they returned to the house, and the Duchess and Gabrielle fled up into their rooms. There were a few more wagons arriving with supplies that day, with Bentley having the guest rooms equipped with beds, carpets and wardrobes, as well as additional food for the kitchen, and some decorations for the rest of the house.

William had nearly finished his report, and was glad to have Abi back to tend to paying the merchants so he could wrap it up. He handed his ‘sister’ a small bag of coin, and disappeared back into the office.

Supper was somber that evening, with the Duke’s place sitting empty. The Duchess complained about the conditions of the prison, and how certain she was that her husband would catch an illness in there. Abi mentioned the improved room, and the possibility of moving up to the top line cells. William immediately said no to that. If the Duke were in fine quarters, and eating fine meals, he would not be gaining anything from the experience. He also hinted that if the Duke behaved himself in Fleet, he would consider paroling him after a month.

After supper, Abi had another class with her students. All of the prior group had returned, as well as two newcomers, meaning two of the groups were three to a slate. Abi planned to order more slates to ensure that all would be able to get a chance. They covered both the letter ‘B’ and the letter ‘C’, which was one of the easiest in the alphabet. The students were getting better using the chalk and slates, and soon could even draw the tricky capital ‘B’ with some precision.

They also spent time searching through the broadsides for the new letters, as well as the ones they learned the prior night. This time Delilah and Abi added the first letter of each student’s last name to the mix. She was surprised to see that at the end of the lesson some of the students were practicing their initials on the slate. In 1642, signing your initials constituted a legal signature, so these students were proud to be writing their own name for the first time, in a way.

Abi decided that when the additional slates were ordered, she would order some cheap pens, ink, and more paper, so that those ready for it could practice their ‘signatures’ in pen and ink.

The class ended early, as this was a bath night for Abi. She enjoyed a bath, and made Gloria get in when she was finished, so that her maid might be cleaner than she otherwise would prefer. Abi knew in the future, in 1665 the plague would hit, and she would have to have every staff member bathing daily to prevent the disease. She also knew that she needed to get some dogs into the house: they would help prevent rats from infesting the house.

That evening William and Abi met again in her room, with a rather disgusted-looking Gloria sitting in the corner, upset that her mistress had made her take a bath months before she was ready. William was ready for his meeting with Pym in the morning. The Puritan man was known for keeping early hours, so William would leave early enough that he could be at Parliament by 8 a.m. He would take James to drive the carriage, and Kensing to act as footman. He hoped to be home before dinner.

Abigail was glad of that. She had three jewelers coming in the morning, and she also wanted to get an early start, by putting the contents of the seven bags out on the large dining table. She expected that to take her, Bentley, Winthrope, and Gloria at least an hour. The jewelers were expected at 10. She felt she could handle dealing with the men, if necessary, but in a few short days she had come to realize that men treated women as unequal. It would be nice if William could arrive before the jewelers left.

The next morning William rose early. Hockings was up, and helped William into his best clothes, brushing his vest, and finally pronouncing him ready to go to Parliament. When they went down to the kitchen, they found that James and Kensing were already there. Delilah had started having a baker work a night shift, mixing dough for bread and the many rolls the house now consumed every morning and night. The bread and rolls used a white dough, which was a treat for staff, since most common people in London at the time ate cheaper brown breads. William had to laugh to himself about that. In 400 years, it would be the brown breads eaten by the well-to-do, and white bread by the poor.

The baker had made three loaves of white bread, and four batches of rolls, 48 to a batch. She took some of the first rolls out of the oven, but still warm, and made cheese and beef sandwiches for the men. Joe somehow found out there was food being served, and also got a roll, even though he was not going with the men. James noted that there were three other men readying the carriage, and that they would be down to break fast as soon as the carriage left.

Kensing rode in the carriage instead of the normal footman’s position, since he was in charge of the bag of £500 that William planned to present to Pym. William himself carried his report of the Siege of Hull.

At Parliament James drove the carriage to the main entrance and let the others off, then drove off to a holding area, where he would wait until they came out of the building again.

At the front desk, they approached a man, and asked to see ‘Lord Pym.’ The man sniffed, and said that the man preferred the term ‘Brother Pym’ and he was much too busy to see anyone without an appointment.

“Oh, that is too bad. I wanted to make a contribution to the Army,” William said, taking the hefty sack from Kensing, and shaking it a bit. The official’s eyes widened. “But if the … Brother Pym is too busy, then we will have to leave it for some future time.”

The man practically launched himself from his post and hurried off within the building, only saying “Wait here.”

The man came back a minute later with a man dressed in clerical robes. “Brother Pym?” William asked.

“No, but I will take you to him.” They headed into the building, and after they passed several other men, it became clear that the man was wearing the uniform of Parliamentary staff, not clergy. They finally stopped at an inner door, which the man entered, to find a dozen men dressed like him, working on ledgers. They walked to the rear of the sizable room that had a sign on the door reading ‘Chair of The Committee of Safety’ on it.

This time when the man came to the door, he stopped and knocked, and a voice within called out” “Enter.” William and Kensing went in. The man closed the door and left.

“You have something for me … for the country?” Pym said. “I do not know you.”

“I am The Earl of Stanstead, William Currie,” William said. “I recently returned to England with my sister, and we have purchased the house of the Duke of Spritzland. I know that that house will not have paid taxes in some time, so I am intending to make a contribution that will eliminate the arrears.”

“Spritzland?” Pym said with a sneer. “Has the young Duke gone to the poorhouse yet? Such a waste of what his father left. I knew the old Duke, his father, years ago. He was a good man. I don’t know how he managed to raise such a wastrel. What do you have for us?”

William opened the bag of gold, but did not hand it over. “There are £500 pounds in here. I know that will be far more than the arrears on the estate, but I want an assurance that the house will be clear from any other taxes or levies for the coming 12 months.”

“There is another levy coming out, and it should be £50 on that estate. Perhaps another £25 on your lands in the south. Or did you not purchase those?” William nodded that he had. “But this amount will more than cover those, and the arrears, as well as the levy we will need in the spring. I will agree to an exemption for you for the coming year, to next Michaelmas.”

With that William handed over the sack, and Pym took it eagerly, dumping the gold on his desk and quickly guessing that the amount of £500 was accurate. He scooped the gold back up, and called a clerk to take it and count it. When the underling was gone, he said: “That, and as much more that we have raised, will go north to the Army. You have helped ensure that they will be fed well, rather than at half rations, as they have been. You clearly are not a Cavalier, by your hair. It is good that another Lord supports the cause.”

“Parliament represents the people, and I and my house are all people,” William said. “I want to do more for the cause. I seek a posting.”

“With the Army?” Pym asked. “We already have the Earl of Essex commanding the army. Perhaps we can find a lesser post for you. Mind the pay will not be high.”

“I have no need for pay,” William said. “And I am not a military man, and unlike some of the others of my rank, do not pretend to be. But do take a look at this report.” He handed his document to Pym.

The older man studied the document for nearly 15 minutes as the men stood before his desk. Finally he looked up. “This is a fine report. Much of what is in it is known to us, but there is some new things. You were at the siege then?”

“No, but I interviewed some soldiers that were, and they gave me most of the details I have provided.”

“So you want to be a spy for us then,” Pym said.

“No, again that is not an area I am strong in,” William said. “I would like a commission in the Parliamentary army that would allow me to go to the camp at my own will, and hopefully record the events of the battles. I would prepare reports of what happened, similar to what you have in front of you, and give them to yourself or another you direct. It is important for me to have something from Parliament, so that the Army does not try to conscript me, or confiscate my horses. I wish to have one or two men with me, and at least four good horses.”

“Aye, the Earl would try to conscript you,” Pym said. “His cavalry is below the standards of the King’s. Yes, I have something for you in a few days, and will write Essex personally to ensure you are not molested. Do you go north immediately? A battle is imminent, I think.”

“I will need a few days to prepare,” William said. “After that I will head up.”

“Good. That gives me some time to get a document for you. I suppose it will have to be small enough to carry easily. The scribes tend to want to make proclamations large enough to sail a ship with. I will send it to your house when it is ready.” He turned his attention back to Williams report, essentially dismissing them.

“Thank you myl … Brother Pym,” William said. With that they left, and made their way to the entranceway, and then to the carriage home.

----- -- -- - -

While William was at Parliament, the house was busy. Breakfast had been served with the Duchess bemoaning that the Duke was not by her side. She announced that she would not be going to the Fleet that day: it was too taxing on her to see her husband in that place. Gabrielle still wanted to see her father, and Abi said that Joe would accompany her. She noted that if the carriage was not back from Westminster, then they would have to go by wagon, which the young girl sniffed at.

Once the meal was cleared away, Bentley and Winthrope appeared, and along with Gloria they made the table ready. Abigail had a key to the Earl’s office, and went in and brought the heavy bags out, one at a time. They were set on the table, and opened one at a time. The jewels within ranged from amazing to mundane. It was nearly a year’s loot by the robbers, and they had been quite notorious on the road where they ran into Abigail. As well, the operated on two other roads in the area, making it difficult for the authorities to track them down. To add to the situation, the coaching system was new, and responsibilities for safety were not clearly delineated. The fact that wealthier women insisted in wearing many pieces of jewelry made the take of the robbers large.

Most of the gems needed to have at least some sand brushed off, although most had been shaken free in the sacks. There was a half-inch of sand in the bottom of each, and any items in that part of the sack were very dirty. Soon the entire table was covered, and the contents of the last sack had to be placed on the smaller dining table. They barely finished when the Jewelers were announced by the doorman. Frugal, as their trade was known to be, the three had ridden in together, crowded into a single Cabriolet.

Abigail introduced herself, and then asked the men to look at the gems on the tables.

“Madame,” the oldest of the three said, “You wish to sell these items? I see several that I made myself, and it is known to me that they are stolen goods. I will not be a part of any plot to recirculate these.”

“They are stolen, or were,” Abi said. “It is our goal to reunite them with their owners. We hoped that you could help identify those owners to us so they could be returned.”

“We can do that,” a younger man said. “We could take the lot and examine them, and then pass them on to their owners.”

Abigail realized that there were going to be some that could not be traced, and thus would wind up on the shelves of the jewelers. “We would prefer to repatriate them,” she said. “If you can identify them.”

“Most jewels have hallmarks,” the third jeweler said. “See this one? I created it 15 years ago for the Duchess of Suffolk. There is a mark showing it to be 20 carat gold, then a mark for London, and this one represents the year. Finally, under these is a mark that represents the customer. This is the mark for Suffolk.”

Abi peered closely at the gem, and could barely see the mark, which looked to her like an infinity sign, with a tail from the lower part of the left loop.

“Pad please,” Abigail said to Bentley, who pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil. Abi wrote down ‘Suff’ and then copied the mark. The piece was moved into one of the bags, which no longer contained any sand.

For the next three hours the group went through the gems, identifying the owners of five more dukes, and eight earls. When a new mark was found, Abi wrote it on her slip of paper. Dinner was late, because the table was in use, but at one they had bagged more than half the items, and moved the rest down to the other end of the table.

William had returned while they were working, but went into his office and let Abigail handle things.

The jewelers were treated to a meal, and when the Duchess and Gabrielle came to eat they were astonished to see all the valuables sitting on the table. Gabrielle wanted to try on the gems, and had to be warned away by Abigail. The young girl could barely keep her eyes on her plate though, with so much gold at the other end of the table. Her mother tried to avoid looking at it though. She was sad to see so much of what she once had, before her husband pawned it away.

When the meal was over, Abigail gave £2 to each of the jewelers, who smiled at getting what was nearly a week’s pay for a half day of work. Gabrielle stood looking at the jewels, barely able to keep her hands off them. Her mother gasped, and picked up a fancy ring.

“Oh my. Oh my,” she mewled. “I know this ring. It was once mine. It was the last piece I had. He finally pawned even that.”

“Put it on, milady,” Abigail said. “Gabrielle, when you are at the prison, ask your father who he pawned your mother’s ring with. In fact, also get the names of any other places he pawned things at. We will find out who bought the ring, and buy it back, even if it is twice the price.”

“Oh milady,” the Duchess said running over to Abigail and embracing the younger girl. “I can never thank you enough. It is as though I wasn’t married without the ring. To have it back … I am so happy. What do you intend to do with the rest of these things?”

“Return them, I hope. Their rightful owners deserve them back.”

“They do. I recognize a few pieces here, from the days when we still went to parties and balls,” the Duchess said. With that she identified five or six more items, and Abi was able to add more marks to her booklet.

Gabrielle had to be physically forced from the table so that she could deliver her father’s food, accompanied by Joe. Bentley and Winthrope went through the remaining jewels, looking for the marks that the Duchess had uncovered. In the end, there was only one smallish bag containing unidentified gems, and Abigail had the names of Seven dukes, a Viscount, nine Earls, and five Barons to contact. She decided to have their wives come to pick up their goods in the following four days. She would have an ‘At Home’¹ on those afternoons, and invite the women to come.

She went into the Earl’s office, bringing in the bags of jewels, and began writing messages to the first six noblewomen. Then a footman was sent out to deliver the messages.

1. The ‘At Home’ was a time when a society woman would be at home to receive guests. Others would have other ‘At Home’ days and the woman would visit on those days, often visiting several ‘At Home’s in an afternoon.

May You Live in Interesting Times

Chapter 8

Abigail was up fairly early in the morning, planning her first ‘At Home’ when a delivery was made to the kitchen. Delilah came up and told her that her order from the tinsmith was here. Abi hurried down to the kitchen, and decided that what she had received was perfect for its intended use. She immediately had half the kitchen staff go to the icehouse and break off blocks of ice, enclosing the blocks with cloths, and then using hammers, heavy pans, or other implements to smash the ice.

Meanwhile, Delilah and another undercook started making a mixture in the smaller tins. Cream, some milk, sugar, and a berry flavoring were put into the tins in what Abi hoped were the right proportions.

“You cannot add ice to this,” Delilah said. “I understand that this is river ice, and it will contaminate the food.

“We will only use the ice to chill the mixture,” Abi said. Put the lids on the tins, and give them a good shake to mix them up well. Then put them into the big pot, which we need to move into the icehouse.

The crushed ice was poured into the big pot, and came a third of the way up the sides of the tins. A heavy layer of salt was then poured onto the ice, and the staff went back to crush more ice. Another layer of ice, then another layer of salt, to the dismay of Delilah at the expense of the salt. Finally a third layer of ice went on top, taking the ice to the level of the mixture in the tins.

“Now we leave it,” Abi said. “Every hour have someone go in to stir the contents of the tin, until you no longer can. A couple hours after that it will be ready. Hopefully in time for my ‘At home’. Make sure you have some other goodies for the ladies, in case I got the mixture wrong, or it doesn’t turn out.”

“What is it?” the cook asked.

“Have you heard of ice cream?” Abigail asked.

Delilah gasped. “I thought only the king’s cook knew how to make that,” she said. “How did you ever learn to make it?”

“In Italy, but they call it gelato there. I was lucky enough to make friends with a cook in a chalet, and he showed me the secret.”

--- - ---- -

Diana Villiers, Duchess of Buckingham, glanced at the house her carriage had pulled up at, with a look of distaste in her mouth. She considered the Duke of Spritzland to be a disgrace to royalty, and had no intention of going into the house, even though she had gotten a beautiful invitation from someone named Lady Abigail Currie, sister to the Earl, who Diana understood now owned the house.

“Jonathon! Go up to the house and see if there is a package for me there,” the Duchess said to her footman, who jumped off the rear of the carriage and walked smartly up to the door. At the door, the doorman invited him in, and then went to Abigail in the grand room.

Abigail came out, and spoke to the footman: “Yes, I do have a package for the Duchess, but I would really like if she could come in for it. I want to confirm that everything in it belongs to her.”

The footman went back to the carriage and explained to the Duchess. The woman in the carriage looked up at the slender, but busty girl standing at the entrance, and her curiosity got the better of her, and she allowed the footman to help her from the carriage and up the steps.

Abigail told the footman to take the carriage around to the stables at the side, and ushered the Duchess into the Great Room. Diana was surprised to see three other great ladies there: two Duchesses, and a Countess. All had small bags and were searching through them. Abigail seated the Duchess in the best chair, and then took a stool herself after handing the woman another bag. The Duchess opened it, and found her necklace on the top: it was the first one that Joe had pulled from the sand, and was actually worth £250, Abi later learned. The Duchess pulled it out and immediately put it on, with Abi helping her with the clasp. She put the lesser necklace into the bag, and sniffed as she embraced the girl: “The Duke bought me this when he was courting me,” she said. “How could I refuse a man that would have something like this made? And he was one of the highest men in the land, after the King, of course.”

“I’m glad you have it back,” Abi said. “When the Earl and I managed to get hold of it, there was no question but that we would return it. The other items in the bag are all the ones with the same jewelers mark on them. Let me know if there any other jewels that were also taken.”

“There were quite a few pounds in coin taken,” the Duchess said. “Were they recovered?”

“Unfortunately no,” Abi said. “We understand that the gang would spend all the cash money on drink and women. The jewels were too well known to be pawned or sold locally, so they were kept until the Michaelmas Fair. Then out of town pawners would buy them for a fraction of their value, and sell them to jewelers in other cities who would remove the marks and resell them.”

“Pity. Anyway, I am glad that gang is gone,” the Duchess said. “They deserved to die.”

“Yes,” the Countess said. “I couldn’t sleep well while they were still alive, for fear they would come to my house and rob us of the rest of our valuables. Thank you for dispatching them, Lady Currie.”

“What? You are the girl who killed the entire gang? That was the talk of the town for a few days. I imagined it was another girl: less refined then yourself,” the Duchess said.

“Well, I only killed two. You see, all of the money we used to buy this house and refurnish it was on the carriage, so we would have lost everything if the robbers had succeeded.” Abi pulled her dagger out from within her gown (which was the special one with the keyhole neckline, requiring the weapon to be located in a holster at her back). “I always carry this, so when the leader of the band jumped down to see the gold, I slit his throat. Another one on a horse had a gun, so I threw the dagger, expecting to hit his arm. But he turned to aim, and the dagger went into his side, killing him.”

“What did your brother the Earl do during this?” the Duchess said. “Hide in the back like the Duke did when we were attacked?”

“Oh no,” Abi said. “He was quite gallant. He fought two swordsmen at once until the guard got into the action, and then they each fought one. The guard killed his man, and then stabbed the other, when he tried to surrender. The guard was having none of that.”

“How exciting,” one of the other Duchesses said. “I also was bothered by the coach being robbed. My husband is one of the investors in the coach line, and he was much worried that the robberies would curtail the service. He said sales went up after the gang was gone.”

Abi saw Delilah at the door, and nodded in response to the cook’s questioning glance.

“I have a little treat for you all,” Abi said, and four maids brought in plates containing what Abigail thought of as ‘finger food’: small pieces of bread with a meat paste on top, cheese, and some sweets. But the important thing was the six bowls presented to the visitors, Abigail and Gabrielle, who was present, but saying nothing. She knew she was too young at 12 to converse with such ladies.

“What is this?” the Countess asked. “Some sort of pudding? But the dish is so cold.”

“As is the food,” Abi said. “It is ice cream.”

“No?” said the Duchess. “I had ice cream at a summer event three years ago put on by the King. “But this tastes better. His was plain … I think this has berries in it.”

“Very much so,” Abi said. “I got the recipe in Italy when we were coming home. I hope you like it.”

“I must hire your cook,” the Duchess said between spoonsful. “This is delightful.”

“Delilah? Are you still there?” Abi called, and the cook entered the room, stopping at the door.

“The Duchess would like to talk to you,” Abigail said.

“You must come work in my kitchens,” the older woman said. “I will double the salary the Earl pays you. You start tomorrow.”

“I am sorry milady,” the cook curtseyed. “I am most contented to be working for the Lady and the Earl, and have no intention of moving to another position when they treat me so well.”

“We will treat you well, for a servant,” the Duchess said and the last three words told Delilah she was right in turning down the offer.

“But I … I mean … I will go as high as triple the normal cook salary,” the Duchess said. The cook shook her head ‘no’.

“That is all, Delilah,” Abi said and the cook quickly left the room.

“You will lend her out when I have a party?” the Duchess asked, almost commanding.

“Well, I understand that the King considers the recipe to be a secret,” Abi said. “I wouldn’t want to upset him be spreading it about. Perhaps when things are settled down.”

That turned the conversation around to the troubles, which is what Abi had hoped would happen, and the women spent the next quarter hour gossiping about what they had heard. The Duchess was a staunch Cavalier, but Abi and the others did not voice their allegiance, leading the girl to assume that at least of few of the others followed Parliament.

Eventually the ladies had to leave. Apparently they had other At Homes to visit, and with the jewels, the conversation, and especially the ice cream, they had spent twice as long with Abi as they expected. Joe was sent to get the carriages, and soon the guests were gone.

“Thank you for allowing me to observe your At Home,” Gabrielle said after. “And especially thank you for the ice cream. It was wonderful. Mother stopped having At Homes when father started pawning things, and before that I was too young.”

“No problem, sweetheart,” Abi said. “Now I know you don’t like going down into the kitchens, but if you come down with me, there might be another dish of ice cream.”

“Actually, I like the kitchen, but mother says it isn’t proper for a Lady to be down there. But you are a Lady, and you go all the time. I like to see all the hustle and bustle, and tasty things being made. I will go with you.”

They headed down the stairs, where the silver dishes from the At Home were carefully being cleaned so that Delilah could lock them back up. “What are we to do with the rest of the ice cream?” the cook asked. “We used only two tins. The rest are still in the icehouse. Will they keep?

“Probably not,” Abi said. “Joe, run out and tell all the men to come in for a treat. I think there will be enough for everyone to get at least a half bowl. And make two full bowls for Gabrielle to take up to her mother.” The Duchess had skipped the At Home, due to her embarrassment over her husband’s situation, but she deserved a chance to sample the treat. And Gabrielle was ecstatic at the chance to have a second bowl.

The men and servants from elsewhere in the house came in shifts when they could, and each got a few spoonsful of the new wonder food. They were amazed that their Lady thought enough of them to allow them to taste food that was normally considered a treat for princes and nobles. If they were not bonded tightly to Abigail and the house before today, they certainly were now.

---- -- -- -- -

Delilah had to make a special order for the next two days, getting in more cream and milk, and especially salt. Normally salt went into food and recipes a pinch or spoon at a time. But ice cream meant cups and cups of the stuff to cover the ice.

“Milady,” Delilah said as she was making out her order. “We should look into getting a few cows. The staff said the house had four living in the back fields before they were sold. It would save on the expense of the milk and cream. And if there is extra, we can sell it off.”

“That is a good idea,” Abi said. “Does it mean hiring a milk maid?”

“No, apparently the milk maid from before is still here. It was her idea. She says that there are four stalls in the barn behind the horse stables. The area needs to be well cleaned: milk making requires total cleanliness.”

“Put her to work on it, and make her take a helper. She will need another who can do her work on her day off. Will this leave us short in the kitchens?” Abi asked.

“Perhaps we could hire one more,” the cook said. “The helper will only be gone for one day a week. We will have no problems finding someone good. All the staff in the city want to work here, now that we have holidays and the ability to court.”

“Make it happen then,” Abi said.

“That brings up another point,” Delilah said. “I was wondering if you might want to hire my beau for a gardening staff. He is assistant at the Kwinter house, but he would accept any position here.”

“I will hire him based on your recommendation,” Abigail said. “I have an idea, but I will have to talk it over with Edward, the old gardener first. I don’t suppose your man will be able to come for an interview before Michaelmas, will he?”

“No milady,” Delilah said. “The Kwinter’s don’t allow any time off. John will work until the end. I will see him at church, perhaps he can dart in then for a little.”

“That will work. I want Edward to speak to him, and see if he is up to the job, and at what level.”

------- ------

The rest of the At Home’s went about the same as the first one. After that first week, Abi dropped back to only having an At Home once a week, but was collecting a pile of ‘carte de visites’ ¹ inviting her to At Homes held by other ladies. She tried to go to four or five a day on the four days when she was not holding her own, making for a busy week, but getting in touch with many people and able to track many opinions about the troubles was the goal of her mission. Of course, she realized the attraction of society wasn’t her sparkling personality, but the chance to get invited back to her At Home’s where the famous ice cream was served.

Abi had a meeting with Edward the gardener on Saturday, and she sat the old man down. She told him she had a new gardener coming in the next day, and she wanted to see if he would be able to replace Edward as the head gardener.

“So you’se gonna let me go ‘en?” the old man said. “Out on der street after o’er 50 years workin’ dis house?”

“No,” Abigail said with a chuckle. “You should know that William and I are not like that. But with over 50 years you have done your part, and it is time to pass the torch … er, shovel on to someone younger. This fellow is assistant gardener at Kwinter’s, and might be ready for a managers job. But you will not go out on the street, as you say. Your room here, and your meals, will continue for as long as you live. It is called retirement, and you have earned it. You will get half pay as well.”

“I knows the master over at Kwinters,” Edward said. “He do a good job, and his assister is pro’ly good too. But I cans stay?”

“Of course. The place wouldn’t be the same without you,” Abi said. “Besides, if the new man passes muster, then he will still be able to draw on your experience. You just won’t be digging, cutting or any of the hard work.”

“I’se kin talk with the lad, I s’pose,” Edward said.

John appeared after church the next day, and the old man spent over an hour with him. Edward would describe a plant or tree disease, and expect the younger man to tell him what it was, and how to cure it (or not, in a few trick cases, where the correct answer was to cut the tree and burn the wood to prevent the disease spreading). At the end of the session, Edward went to Abigail.

“Lad knows ‘is stuff,” the old man said. “’E’ll do, awright. Are you sure I ain’t got to leave now?”

“No,” Abigail said. “I was talking with Bentley, and she says you live in a bit of a suite, with your two young daughters.”

“Gran’dawters,” the old man corrected. “They’se mum works acrost town at a V’count’s house. I got ‘em in here a cupple yars back.”

“Yes. You can stay in that suite, at least until one or both the girls marry. I understand that both of them have suitors from the stables.”

“Aye,” Edward said. “Good lads, both of ‘em. If they has little ‘uns, I best get a small room, and give the big one to them. It’d be nice to have weebies about.”

“And I’ll bet you make a great grandpa to them,” Abi said. “We’ll start John after Michaelmas.”

The old man left to go back to his gardens, and Abi sought out Delilah, giving her specific orders for Michaelmas. There was to be a cake, and a batch of ice cream that would be entirely for the staff. The celebration was a retirement party for Edward, and a welcome to John and the other new staff that would be starting that day.

1. A carte de visite (French for visiting card) is an innovation of that time that followed the At Home. Basically, you left a card if you visited and missed the meeting. As well the cards could be used as an invitation to return.

May You Live in Interesting Times

Chapter 9

“Are you going to be able to handle everything at Michaelmas yourself,” William asked Abigail. “I have to be in Powick in a few days for the battle, and won’t be back until the quarter-day at the earliest.”

“I should be fine,” Abi said. “We are getting things running smoothly here. What are you doing today?”

“I have to get a couple horses,” William said. “I don’t want to take any from the stables, and leave you short. I’m hoping to be able to leave later tomorrow, and that should get me to Powick on the 22nd, the day before the battle. I don’t want to get there early and have to check in with Fiennes ahead of time, as the battle was a surprise attack.

Soon after William and Joe left to go to the stage office, where he knew there would be horses for sale. He stopped into the bar first, and found his old buddies from Hull: Jerry and Billy. He stopped at their table, where they were nursing small beers. It took a second for them to recognize their old drinking mate in his fine clothes, and when they did, their eyes widened in surprise.

“Hey lads,” William said, taking out a shilling and playing with it in his fingers. Both men stared at it, and the Earl immediately knew they were short of cash. “Do either of you know of a good horseman. I need to buy a good mount, and would like someone to advise me. This is a matter a bit out of James forte.”

“I don’t know nothing about James or his fort,” Billy said. “I were a top stablehand at Hull, afore Charlie come mucking about. I were in the cavalry and went out on a sortie with a few other lads to see what were happenin’. We run into a bunch o’ Cavs, and got chased back. T’were then I got my leg slashed by one of the Cavs. There was two chasing me close and lucky I were carrying a pistol with spread shot in it. I shot one full in the face, and t’other gets hit by the spray. First lad went down, and the second pulled back all bloody. Lads on the walls sent out enough shots and arrows to turn back t’rest. But the first bloke got in a sword slash what ripped the side open on me ‘orse. Good ‘orse too. Got me near to the postern gate afore he tumbled down dead. That’s when I learnt that my leg was all tore up. Couldn’t even stand on it. Couple lads darted out the postern, and dragged me in, then the dockter fellow just cuts the whole leg off’n me.”

Joe sat in rapt silence as the man described the sortie.

“You might be just the lad I’m looking for then,” William said. He looked at Jerry. “Do you know of anyone who can do some sword training?”

“I dunno,” Jerry said. “I were pretty good with a blade afore my arm got shot up. But rich folks like you usually like to hire French sword masters. They’s teachin’ all the rules and stuff for fancy sword fightin’.”

“What about someone who can teach me how to break all the rules, and keep myself alive with a sword. Is there someone who can do that?”

Jerry got a huge smile on his face. “I kin do that, even without one wing. Th’ good un is my sword arm, and if you are green, then I’se able to get you started. And I kin get someone whole to carry on after.”

Just then a maid came by, and William ordered two full breakfasts for the soldiers, and got a roll for himself, since he had eaten at the house. Joe was not about to turn down the chance at a meal, and got a smaller breakfast than the soldiers. The men mostly listened as they inhaled their food, the first they had eaten in days.

“I will need swords and practice swords,” the Earl said to Jerry. “Can you buy some for me? I can leave you with a few pounds. When you get them, take a cab to my house.” Joe can show you to the house. When you get there, ask to see Abigail, my sister, and tell her that the Hobbit says she is to find you a room and give you food as a full staff member.”

“The what?” Jerry said pausing his eating. “Yer means rabbit, doncha?”

“No, Hobbit. Say it for me.”

“’Obbit. What’s a ‘obbit, then?”

“It is a code word for the Lady. She will know what you say is true. Joe will also vouch for you.”

“Thankee, milord,” Jerry said with a nod, and then cleaned up his plate. William gave £5 to Joe, who held the coins tight in his fist. “Change to Abigail,” the Earl said. “Take out a shilling for Jerry, and four-pence for yourself. No beer though. There will be beer at the house, for supper.” Joe nodded, and then left with Jerry.

Billy was just mopping up the last of his breakfast when William explained his mission. “I need horses that will be war trained. So they won’t spook at gunfire. Can we do that?”

Billy looked glum. “Not likely, milord. Any war horses is taken by one army or t’other. Best we just find the best horses we kin, and train ‘em ourselves. We’se gonna need to buy some guns first, though.”

“We will. Can you ride?”

“Getting’ onboard is a bit rough, but when I’se up I kin do awright,” Billy said.

With that they headed out to the stables, where Billy sought out three good horses. William wanted a spare in case he had to flee a battle. A remount would allow him to outdistance most heavily laden soldiers chasing. They also bought tack for the horses, with one going as a pack animal.

From there they went to an armorer, where William bought two pistols and two rifles. These were carried on the pack animal. William had to hoist Billy up on his mount, to the embarrassment of the soldier who was unused to be helped by a Lord. His crutch was stowed into a holster meant for a rifle, and the two men and three horses rode out of town to a meadow where there were only a few sheep grazing. William paid the farmer four-pence to shoot on his land over the next two days, and the man rushed to move his flock to another field.

“’Tis like this,” Billy said. “When yer ‘orse hears the guns, e’ll shy and want to run. You need ter keep him tight in check. You’se new ter him, so tha’ll make it ‘arder. Jist ‘old ‘im tight and land yerself soft if ‘e bucks yer.”

Billy had William trot along a preplanned path, and he shot a rifle at a certain point. As predicted the horse tried to shy away, but William fought him with the reins, and then calmed him with a rub on the side of the neck. They turned and walked back, and at the same spot Billy fired again. The horse jolted again, but not as severely. Again William was able to contain his mount.”

“Yer doin’ good, milord,” Billy said as he reloaded the guns. No balls were loaded, only powder to make the shot. They duplicated the exercise eight or ten times, with the horse panicking less and less as he learned that the frightening sound would not hurt him. The last few passes had the soldier standing closer and closer to the path, firing away from the horse at an angle that allowed it to see the fire and smoke emerge from the rifle. The last pass was only five yards from the gun, and the horse seemed a little tense, but otherwise unafraid.

“Tha’s good,” Billy said. “We do this fer a coupla weeks and ‘e’ll be as good as any ‘orse in any army. Then we starts on t’other horse.”

“The problem is we don’t have weeks. We only have today, and tomorrow morning.”

“Ach! Den I guess we needs ter do more t’day. I were gonna give him a break, but seems we kin do more. This time I wants yer to walk past me, an’ fire yer pistol. Makes sure yer holds it high oer ‘is head. Yer don’t wants ‘im ter feel the powder. If ‘e feels any pain, ever’ thing is lost.”

They did that exercise for the next two hours, with William handing the spent pistol to Billy and taking the loaded one. Billy reloaded as the horse and Earl made their return march. At the very end of the day, Billy decided to have a fusillade, with all four guns loaded. As the horse approached the soldier, he fired his rifles one after another, while William fired his pistols one after the other. In all, four shots rang out in 15 seconds, and the horse continued on, almost calmly.

William helped Billy mount the second horse again, which was a little shy from all the shooting, although Billy had tried calming him between shots, getting that horse also inured to the sounds. The packhorse was tethered, and was also getting used to the sound, as terrified as it had been at first.

----- ---- -- ------

Joe approached Abigail after breakfast, looking upset.

“Milady, I’se a question. If I’se promised to not say nothing ‘bout something to someone … an important someone, is it wrong fer me not to tell you?”

“That is a rather convoluted question, Joe,” Abi said. “Tell me what you know, and I will decide.”

“K. I doan know what a convol-thing is. But I promised Miss Gabrielle I won’t say nothing. But her da’ is not eating the food we takes him. He gives it to folks he gambles with at th’ Fleet.”

“What?” Abi nearly shrieked. She calmed down a bit, and then spoke to the boy. “You did right to tell me this, Joe. Now run along to the stables and tell them I want to use the carriage today to go to the Fleet after dinner.” For the past few days the wagon had been used for the daily trip.

At dinner she told Gabrielle that she knew her father was not eating. The girl looked relieved. “I’m glad Joe said something. Father made me promise not to tell, but he is starting to look ill. I have to do what my father says, don’t I?”

“Not when it can affect his health, dear,” Abi said. She turned to Delilah, who was serving another course, and told her that she wanted a slightly smaller plate for the Duke, and a tin of soup, which was not normally included in the meal.

Immediately after eating, Joe, Abi and Gabrielle went out to the yard, where Joseph was waiting with the carriage. He drove them to the prison, where the three entered as Joseph waited in the carriage outside.

Inside Abi led the others to the Duke’s cell, and found the man laying in his bed, too weak to rise. Three other prisoners were in the cell, and they started forward when the food arrived.

“Th’ dinners mine,” said one rough looking character. “Dese louts gets the rolls.”

“None of you get anything,” Abi said. “Get out of this cell.”

“Not wit’out er food,” the big man said, stepping forward. “We’s earned it fair and square in cards with th’ old coot. Give it up.”

Abi had enough, and she pulled her dagger. “Back off now, and get out. I doubt your games are ’fair and square’. You have been taking advantage of an old sick man, and you have lost your winnings. None of you will get anything from him.”

“I’se getting’ my dinner,” the man said, darting past Abi towards Gabrielle, who shrank back as Joe stepped in front. Suddenly, Abi’s dagger flicked, and the man started bleeding from his nose. She had cut the septum between his nostrils, and more than a little blood was flowing.

“You bitch,” he screamed. “You’se stuck me.”

“I did,” Abi said as the bleeding man backed up. If you are not out of here in 10 seconds, there will be another cut, and it will be your throat opened up. I know how: I’ve done it before.”

All the men dashed out of the cell, and Abi closed the door. She went over to the Duke, who had struggled into a sitting position. “We have soup for you today, milord. I feel it will be best to start with, if you haven’t been eating,” Abi said. “Your daughter will sit next to you and feed you as we talk.”

“I can’t eat the dinner,” the Duke said. “Stoner is right. It is his. He won it at cards. I owe five dinners and eight rolls right now. The food has to go to them. Although if you were to bring double helpings …”

“Then you would just gamble those away quicker,” Abi concluded for him. “None of those men will collect. Your dinner will be served to you in here in the early afternoon, and your rolls will be kept with the guards.”

“But if I renege, then they won’t gamble with me anymore,” the Duke mewled.

“And that is the whole point. First you gamble your inheritance away. Then you gamble yourself into prison. And now you are gambling your health away. Do you intend to leave this poor girl feeding you an orphan? A washerwoman in some London slum?”

“Gabrielle? No. I would never do that,” he said.

“Well, that is exactly what you are doing. The gambling has to stop. Now. If your reneging keeps you out of the game, that is good, isn’t it.”

“But it gets so boring in here,” the Duke said.

“Then you can find something else to do. Whittling out of wood, perhaps.”

“They don’t allow us no knives bigger than a penknife,” the Duke said.

“Then perhaps you can teach some of the illiterate ones in here to read and write. I’ll send a slate and some chalk. But if I find you gamble them away, I’ll stop your food and let you starve. Okay?”

“Okay,” the man said sullenly. “You are right. I have to stop. I promise I won’t gamble away anything you send.”

Just then there was a rap on the cell door, and it was pushed open by the warder. He looked upset.

“A convict said that he was assaulted in here, and that his meal was stolen,” the warder said.

“So you believed a known criminal’s word over that of a Lady,” Abigail said with her haughtiest voice. “The only meal in here is the one that the Duke is eating. Others may think they have a claim to his food, but they do not.”

“There was word of a dagger, milady,” the warder was speaking much more respectfully now.

“Did you see a dagger, sir?” Abi said. “Do you see a dagger now?” She handed two pound coins to the warder, who immediately decided that there was no weapon in the prison.

“That brings us to the next question. Convicts have been taking the rolls that we bring for the Duke. Is it possible that we leave them somewhere in the guard house? He can come in and eat one there in the evening, and another for breakfast. Eat them: not take them elsewhere to eat, or otherwise dispose of.” She held out another two pounds. “This for the next 20 weeks: the period we expect him to be here. That works out to a shilling a roll, more than the buns are worth.”

“Aye, we can do that,” the warder said, taking the two rolls from Joe.

“And there was a man in here who left leaking quite profusely from a nosebleed. I would appreciate it if you let him know that if anything happens to the Duke in retribution, he will be sorry he was born. He’ll never leave this place, and the time he spends here with be without the rest of his nose, or either of his ears. Perhaps with only a finger or two left on either hand. Let him know that?”

The warder left, and as expected the men who were in the cell earlier were standing just outside the door and had heard Abi’s dire threats. The men scattered, and then two watched from a distance as their rolls went into the guardhouse. The Duke took almost an hour more to eat his meal, and then hugged his daughter tighter, promising her he would reform.

At the door to the prison, the warder appeared and asked Abi to show her dagger. He wanted to be sure that there was not a dangerous weapon left in the jail. Abi pulled it from its holster between her breasts, and then popped it back. The man merely nodded, and soon they were back in the carriage.

On the way back, Abi noted that there were many wagons parked on the streets, selling coals, wood, flour, and other commodities that could be sold out doors. Back at the house she asked James if there were any items from the estate that could be sold in such a manner. He suggested faggots. There was a fairly large wooded area in the northwest corner of the lot, and the mortgage the Duke had signed had forbidden removal of any wood from it. The gardeners were now trying to clear it out, with five years of ground fall wood now being piled up near the barn, more than the house would need for years now that there was a good supply of coal.

Abi suggested that tomorrow, when the wagon would go to Fleet again, it be stocked with wood faggots. Joe could sell them from the wagon as they travelled, and then the driver could sell more while Joe and Gabrielle were in the prison. The bundles of sticks would only sell for a few pence, but it would help pay the expenses of sending the wagon out daily.

The next day Gabrielle took a slate and chalk, and one of the broadsheet tracts so her father could start to teach the inmates who wanted to better themselves. Three days later she came with an odd request. The inmates wanted to learn to read the 51st psalm, and could a Bible be provided.

That sent Abi back to the prison again, this time in the wagon so she could see how the vending operation worked. In the prison she presented the Bible to the Duke, she found that while five men were trying to learn to read, dozens more were only interested in having the Duke read the 51st Psalm to them. It was as she thought. The men were only interested in hearing the psalm so they could memorize it. That particular psalm was known in the underworld as the ‘neck verse’ and could be used to get a trial moved from the civic courts to the church courts.

For over 400 years criminals who were literate would be tried in church courts where hanging was not a punishment, like in the civic courts (often for crimes like theft of a very small amount). By reading the 51st Psalm, a man could claim to be literate, which in the distant past meant he must be a cleric. The law would not change for another 50 years, and until then criminals wanted to be able to recite the psalm from memory, as a way of ‘proving’ they were literate.

Some judges were starting to catch on, and asked for a different psalm be read, but in the underworld it was thought that knowing the 51st was enough. When Abigail explained all this to the Duke, he agreed to not read the 51st Psalm. As a result, he had a few more convicts join his literacy classes, but most of the men wanted only the short cut, not the knowledge, and left grumbling.

That was the last time that Abigail went to the prison. After 20 weeks the Duke was bailed out by William, and brought back home in early spring. His students were able to read and write simple items, and could sign their name. They were not literate enough to read the Bible in court, however.

The Duke seemed a reformed man. He was offered the £10 a week by the Earl, but saved most of it. He wanted to buy a set of clothes that he personally owned, and wanted to save money to buy nice Christmas gifts for his wife and child.