of her new home bathed in flattering pale-golden sunlight glinting welcomingly on mullioned windows. An untidy and overgrown garden detracted somewhat from what might otherwise have been a very pleasing setting for the Restoration building, as did the profusion of choking ivy clinging to the front wall.
If the truth were known, though, Gwen wasn’t so much concerned about the architectural merit of the house that was shortly to become her permanent place of residence, at least for the foreseeable future, as she was about the atmosphere prevailing within. Much, she strongly suspected, would depend on the character of the female her late husband had employed almost twenty years before to maintain the smooth running of his household.
Gwen knew next to nothing about Mrs Travis, save that she was a female now well into middle age, and that Sir Percival had considered her to be a first-rate cook-housekeeper, completely trustworthy and conscientious. So unless she discovered the woman to be quite otherwise, Gwen was prepared to allow things to remain as they were. More importantly, her own dear Gillie had promised not to interfere in the running of the house, and to continue with her duties as personal maid-cum-companion. So one might be inclined to take an optimistic view, expecting everything to run smoothly, and everyone to rub along together remarkably well. Except that Gwen, now, was nothing if not a realist, and was well aware that things frequently didn’t work out as one might have wished. Furthermore, love her though she did, she wasn’t blind to her dear Gillie’s faults.
Martha Gillingham had assisted in bringing Gwen into the world, and had always been treated as a member of the family, rather than a servant. Consequently Martha had never had too many restrictions imposed upon her.
The maid had never been afraid to speak her mind, airing her views whether called upon to do so or not. So, should it be discovered that the house wasn’t being maintained to the high standards to which she herself had always adhered, when she had held the position of cook-housekeeper in the late Reverend and Mrs Playfair’s home for all those years, she wouldn’t be reticent to point out any deficiencies on Mrs Travis’s part.
Gwen quickly discovered there was thankfully no possibility of an early confrontation between the two women, when she was admitted by a housemaid who wasn’t slow to impart the unfortunate tidings that Mrs Travis had taken to her bed.
‘Terrible poorly she be, ma’am. Took bad a few days back, but would drag herself about, as she knew you’d be arriving some time this week, and now the chill’s settled on her chest, so it ’as.’
‘Has a doctor been summoned?’
The housemaid appeared astonished, as though it were unheard of for a practitioner to administer to a servant. ‘No, ma’am…I mean, Lady Warrender.’
‘I should prefer you address me as Mrs Warrender,’ Gwen said, never having grown accustomed to the courtesy title bestowed upon her, simply because her late husband had received a knighthood in recognition of his unblemished record and acts of heroism whilst serving in His Majesty’s Army during the previous century. ‘And your name is?’
‘Annie, ma’am…Annie Small.’
Gwen was unable to suppress a slight smile as the name was somewhat incongruous. The rosy-cheeked Annie was definitely on the buxom side. ‘A doctor must be summoned at once,’ she ordered, her mind swiftly returning to the matter in hand. ‘I understand from Sir Percival’s man of business in London that a male servant is also employed here?’
Annie rolled her eyes, a clear indication that she didn’t wholly approve of the male employee. ‘Yes, ma’am, Manders. He be outside somewhere. Don’t come into the ’ouse much, on account of ’im being a lazy good-for-nothing and not seeing eye to eye with Mrs Travis, as you might say. Made ’imself a snug little place above the stable, so ’ee ’as. You can usually find ’im skulking up there.’
Although she was aware that prejudice often clouded judgement, Gwen strongly suspected that much of what Annie had related had not been too far removed from the truth.
From what she had seen thus far, the garden, although adequate in size, was by no means totally unmanageable for an employee willing to pull his weight. Anyone working outside, even in the remotest corner, would have little difficulty hearing the sounds of an arrival. Yet no one had appeared when the carriage had pulled up at the door in order to assist the post-boys and Gillie in bringing the baggage into the hall.
‘In that case, Annie, it shouldn’t be too difficult a task for you to locate his whereabouts, and dispatch him for the local doctor. But first I’d like you to take me to see Mrs Travis.’
The cook-housekeeper occupied a small apartment, consisting of two rooms, directly off the kitchen. Gwen’s first and very favourable impression was one of combined cleanliness and order. This was quickly overshadowed by a rush of concern, as she set foot inside the bedchamber, to find a thin, angular woman doing her level best to rise from the bed.
Mrs Travis’s assurances that she was now feeling a good deal better after her day’s inactivity, and was more than capable of creating a wholesome evening meal for her new mistress fell on deaf ears, as both Gwen and the loyal Martha headed across the room with purposeful strides. Severely weakened by the infection, Mrs Travis was no match for one, let alone them both, and returned to the warm comfort of her bed without attempting an undignified struggle, though clearly betraying signs of distress at being denied at least an attempt to fulfil her duties.
‘No one, I’m certain, supposes you contracted the malady on purpose,’ Gwen declared, after listening to the tearful apology. ‘Martha, here, is more than capable of catering for my needs, until such time as you are able to resume your duties. Which I sincerely trust will not be long delayed.’
At this assurance that her position as housekeeper was in no way in jeopardy, Mrs Travis began to appear a good deal easier, with the lines of concern that had been steadily increasing beginning to fade from above the lacklustre eyes. The further assurance that she was considered worthy enough to receive a visit from the local practitioner seemed to deprive her of the power of speech, and it wasn’t until Gwen alluded to the maidservant, Annie, that she was able to regain command of her voice.
‘But Annie hasn’t a permanent position here, madam,’ she revealed. ‘When the master’s man of business, Mr Claypole, wrote and told me a few weeks ago of your arrival back in England, he said as how I might employ extra staff in order to prepare the house for your arrival. He knew well enough there was only me and Manders here, on account of his visiting once a year to check for himself how things stood in the poor old master’s absence. He took his duties seriously. Never once forgot to pay our wages come quarter-day, and insisted I write to him, no matter how trivial the matter, if I was concerned about anything.’
As she too had been favourably impressed by Mr Claypole’s conscientious attitude, Gwen experienced no qualms whatsoever over retaining his services when she had called to see him shortly after her arrival in the capital at the beginning of the year. Her concerns now, however, were not about her business affairs, which she felt sure were in trustworthy hands. Her late husband had not left her a pauper. In fact, the opposite was true. He had ensured that she could live in comfort, and although she had no intention of wasting money on frivolous luxuries, she fully intended to concentrate her efforts on turning her late husband’s house into a home in which she might happily dwell.
Consequently, early in the evening, after the doctor’s prompt visit, and a swift exploration of each and every room in her new home, Gwen made a start on her objective. Taking herself up to the best bedchamber, which boasted a commanding view of the sadly neglected front garden, she began to unpack her belongings, some of which had been acquired during her recent sojourn in London.
In
