Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(36)
Satisfied that she’d done the best she could to create an imitation but healthy Fowler’s solution, Emilia looked around for a place to pour out the foul medicine. All she had was the shallow bowl she’d carried her herbs in. She poured the rest of the Fowler’s in there, refilled the empty bottle from a beaker of her herbal solution, and tucked the refilled bottle back in her apron pocket.
“I assume the stench means Lord Dare has finished his budget and is now preparing to blow up more glass,” she said distractedly, glancing around at the disorder she was leaving behind. She was accustomed to leaving her worktable neat and tidy. Perhaps, once they’d hired servants, she’d have more time. “Tell Mrs. Wiggs I’ll be right there.”
She stopped at the shed, knocked, then leaned in. The stench of sulfur was overpowering. “Are you there? Mrs. Wiggs has arrived, and I need numbers to dash her dreams.” The dim light from a single window did little to illuminate the gloom and smoke. She could see Dare peering into the microscope she coveted with all her heart and soul. He’d directed lamp light to mirrors in an attempt to make it work better. Wearing the adorable half glasses she’d only seen him wear the day he’d asked her to marry him, he glanced up impatiently, named a sum, then returned to work.
Emilia had no idea if it was a generous amount or not. She’d never paid any servant but Bessie.
Hoping maids would be less expensive than secretaries, she hurried into the house.
Mrs. Wiggs waited in the crowded parlor beaming happily. “There you are, m’lady. I’ve brought the best the village has to offer.”
Behind her waited half a dozen young girls, all looking expectant and eager. Short ones, tall ones, wide ones. . . Emilia’s eyes narrowed as she noticed a thin one almost cringing at the back of the pack. She wasn’t much older than Emilia’s younger sisters. The girl’s expression was tight with hope and fear, but her eyes were flat with despair. And silhouetted against the light from the dirty parlor windows, she showed a belly rounder than her thin build should carry.
Oh, dear, this would be much harder than she’d imagined, and she’d imagined a hurdle higher than she was tall. “Why don’t you come back to the office, Mrs. Wiggs? Give me a list of whom you wish to hire for what, and what wages they’ll expect.” She steered the former housekeeper from the parlor and down the corridor.
“I don’t think you can get by on fewer girls,” Mrs. Wiggs protested as Emilia closed the doors after them. “Mrs. Peacock will leave without a scullion and a kitchen maid. You’ll probably need a pot boy as well, but Tess can handle his duties until I find someone suitable. We’ll need at least one upper and one lower housemaid, a laundress, a butler, and two footmen, but I started with the womenfolk today.”
“Tess?” Emilia asked faintly, matching this formidable list to the staff in her father’s house and realizing Mrs. Wiggs was understating the total.
“My grand-niece,” the housekeeper said, twisting her hands together. “She’s young, but she’s a good girl, and needs some training. She knows her way around the kitchen and has helped Mrs. Peacock before.”
Emilia kneaded the bridge of her nose, looking for the words that were so hard to find. “Would Tess be the thin one at the back of the parlor?”
“She’s a good girl,” Mrs. Wiggs insisted again. “The best student in the school. Writes a fine copperplate and reads like a scholar. But she’ll be happy washing and chopping and whatever is needed down below.”
Down below, out of sight, as her belly grew. “And her husband?” Emilia asked desperately. “Will he not object? Or will he be asking for a place as well?”
The stout old lady almost wilted in dejection. “The lout ran away without marrying her. She made a mistake, but she’s learned a hard lesson. She’s a good worker.”
“And the babe?” Emilia knew it was possible for women to work while carrying a child, but the work of a kitchen maid required long hours and carrying heavy burdens. Malcolm women were accustomed to pampering unborn children—because they were wealthy and could afford to. How did other women do it? She rubbed her brow some more, trying to work her way through this dilemma.
“I have another grand-niece in Harrogate who wants a child more than anything in the world,” Mrs. Wiggs said anxiously. “She’s said she’ll take the babe. But Tess’s father has thrown her out, and she needs to learn an occupation. She’ll take nothing if you’ll house her until the babe is born. I’d take her myself, but I live with my sister, and there’s no room.”
Emilia knew this was what her mother and Aster did—rescued women, taught them, gave them security so they didn’t end up on the streets, at the mercy of any man who came along. But her family was wealthy, and she was not, not after making her bargain with Dare.
Still, it was impossible to throw the child out. “I can’t have her carrying pails of coal and boiling water,” she protested faintly. “And in a few months, even running up and down stairs will be dangerous for her. I already have a secretary, and it’s probably best if she does not undertake the task of my husband’s secretary. What position can she perform that will not harm her or the babe?”
“Mrs. Peacock will look after her,” the housekeeper said, looking hopeful. “There’s cutting and rolling pastry and bits like that she can learn to do. And then after, she’ll work twice as hard, I promise. She’s smart enough that someday, she can take my place.”