A Mistress for Stansted Hall Read Free Page A

will be the first to be ready?’ There were several wicker trugs piled higgledy-piggledy in the boot room, and basins a plenty back in their correct places on the shelves.
    Armed with the necessities to collect eggs, milk, cream and vegetables she led the way outside. There were not the makings for bread; the flour bin was empty and there was no fresh yeast. Tomorrow she would make a list and send the stable boy into the village to buy what she wanted. Tonight they would make do with whatever she could find.
    A rheumy eyed gardener greeted her with a gummy smile. ‘Well then, madam, you come to Jethro for some nice tatties and such?’
    ‘I have indeed. See, we have all got baskets, these are my intrepid helpers, do you think you could fill them with something nice for supper?’
    With her two filthy urchins skipping along beside him, Jack, as usual chattering non-stop, the ancient gardener took them down the brick path. Every so often he stopped and pointed and they eagerly rummaged and dropped things into their baskets. Knowing they were safe she turned her attention to the chickens.
    A second, equally decrepit, old man appeared from what was obviously the dairy. ‘Here, missus, I've got a dozen fresh eggs for you and a jug of milk. I reckon there's a bit of butter, and some cream if you want it.’
    ‘Thank you, that's exactly what I've come to find. I'm Mrs Reed, the new housekeeper. I shall expect fresh milk and eggs to be bought the kitchen door first thing every morning in future.’
    He doffed his cap, and beamed. ‘I'm Fred, that other is me brother, Jethro. It'll be a rare treat doing for a lady again after all this time.’
    In less than one half hour Emma returned to the kitchen with Jack and Mary, all their baskets full to bursting with fresh produce. Jack was beside himself with glee.
    ‘I'm the best hunter, Mama, I've got strawberries and beans and salad leaves.’
    Mary dropped her burden on the table. ‘I have freshly dug potatoes, a bunch of mint and some parsley and, four ripe peaches from the hothouse. What do you have, Mama?’
    ‘I have eggs, milk, cream and butter. See how clever we are? We have enough here for a veritable feast.’
    Whilst Mary took Jack into the scullery to wash his hands and face Emma began to prepare an evening repast for her employer. She would take the tray through to him, the dining room was in no fit state to use, and then feed herself and the children.
    *
    Rupert retreated to his study baffled by what he'd seen. He was convinced he'd got a candidate for Bedlam under his roof. What in the name of Hades had been going on in the kitchen? He shrugged and resuming his usual seat, stared morosely out of the window. His eyes narrowed. What had happened to his well-ordered grounds? The last time he'd looked the lawns had been well manicured, the drive weed free and the hedges clipped. Now the place was in disarray.
    This had not happened overnight, it took years to achieve this air of neglect. He slumped back in his chair clutching the full glass in his hand. What was the point in keeping things as they should be when there was no longer anyone to share it with him?
    When there was a sharp rap on the door he slopped his precious brandy in his lap and swore loudly. ‘Come in,’ he roared. It must be that mad woman come to complain there was nothing to eat.
    *
    Emma all but dropped the tray when she heard his barked command to enter. Straightening her shoulders she pushed open the door with her hip and walked in carrying his evening meal.
     
    Ignoring his fulminating stare, she stared pointedly at his boots which were resting on the table upon which she needed to place his tray. Slowly his feet were removed and he sat up.
    ‘I do apologise, sir, that I have no fresh bread to accompany your meal. I shall send for provisions tomorrow. However, I hope you will be satisfied with what I've prepared.’
    She deftly whipped off the napkin that had been covering the repast. ‘There