Page 24 of Whispers of Shadowbrook House
Oliver walked into the house through the kitchen’s door, and at his arrival, he heard the hush fall over the room. Three maids and the cook stood in the sudden silence. It was clear whatever they’d been discussing was not for Oliver to hear.
The cook raised her hands to her hips and lifted her eyebrows. “What can we do for you, Mr. Waverley?”
This was not the elderly cook he’d known in his childhood. This woman was all angles, from her bent elbows to her peaked eyebrows. He’d not spoken to her before, but she knew who he was.
“I came to see how I can be of service to you. I’m sure my arrival caused a stir, and I’m not eager to make your work any more difficult than it already is. Is there something I can do for you?”
The cook’s stern expression melted a degree or two. “You came in from outside to ask how you can help with meal service?”
Oliver couldn’t tell if she was being playful, but he guessed she was. He grinned. “All my best ideas come when I’m near the river.”
A quiet laugh came from behind him, and he was sure if he turned to look at the maids, he’d see them all smiling at him, but he knew his job was to win over the cook. He kept his eyes locked on the tall woman’s face. She made no move and said nothing. Oliver redoubled his effort.
“I don’t have your skill of cooking for a household, but I can arrange a vase of flowers.”
The cook’s pointy eyebrows rose up her forehead at his admission. Perhaps flowers on the dining table weren’t a priority at Shadowbrook.
“Or I can carry a barrel from the cold storage. Or wash dishes. Whatever you need. I’m a quick study.”
He saw the cook’s arms loosen at her sides, and she pressed her lips together in a small smile. “It is good to have a new recruit for the kitchen staff. But don’t worry yourself. Even with the latest arrival, I think we can manage the feeding of the household.”
“Latest arrival?” Oliver repeated. “Does my uncle have another visitor?”
It was as if his question was a magnet. All the women in the room leaned closer and began to murmur, all speaking at the same time. Unused to conversations like this, Oliver attempted to isolate each voice. He heard the word “woman” several times and quite a few instances of the word “strange.”
They all must have seen the confusion on Oliver’s face, because the maids fell silent, but they didn’t back away.
The cook took pity on him and said, “There is a woman from the city who’s only just arrived.
From Mrs. Randle’s instructions, we assume she’s staying quite a while. She has very particular demands.”
The arrow eyebrows pointed up toward her cap once again, but Oliver didn’t understand her meaning. Demands? Oliver couldn’t imagine what sort of person would enter Shadowbrook and begin making demands.
Was it gossiping to ask for details? Oliver didn’t know, but he wanted more information. “What kind of demands?”
“East facing windows, so the morning light of the rising sun can align her heart for the day.” The smirk on the maid’s face was enough to tell Oliver what she thought of such alignment.
Another of the maids chimed in. “She requires a lady’s maid to assist her with her hair and her clothing. As if anyone in this house is trained as a lady’s maid. We’ve all got work enough to do.”
A young woman in an apron that matched the cook’s placed both hands on the table and leaned closer. “Her dog needs two eggs and a plate of chopped chicken each morning and night. That’s four eggs a day, and only for the dog.”
Violet grinned. “The dog must sleep on a pillow wrapped in bedsheets which must be changed every day.”
“And she doesn’t like gas lighting, so we need to keep her room stocked with candles.”
One of the maids cackled. “To be clear, we’re not talking about the woman. It’s the dog who has opinions about gaslight.”
Oliver laughed along with the staff. He’d never been present for such a conversation, and he hoped his inclusion meant they would continue to talk to him about how daily life functioned at Shadowbrook. This was by far the least nervous he’d felt around the staff.
Just as he felt himself relaxing fully into the moment of harmless gossip, a hush fell over the room.
Mrs. Randle hurried into the kitchen, her shoes clacking against the floor.
“If you’ve got time to stand around here, I’ll gladly assign more tasks to each of you.
” Then she turned to Oliver. “Mr. Waverley, I’ve been asked to speak to you about Mr. Ravenscroft’s new guest.”
“Wonderful. I’m looking forward to knowing more about her.”
He heard Violet suppress a giggle.
Mrs. Randle shook her head and pointed to the door. As he followed her out of the kitchen, she spoke to the air in front of her. “You’re not to seek out the visitor. You’re not to ask her opinion about your plans. You’re not to attempt to turn her mind to your takeover of the house.”
Oliver stammered a reply. “Takeover? I don’t know what you mean.”
Mrs. Randle shook her head. “It isn’t what I mean. It’s what your uncle wishes. Stay away from Madame Genevieve.”
The shock of the demand pushed the strange name straight out of Oliver’s head. Whoever this new guest was, he was commanded to keep clear of her. After all the women in the kitchen had said, he didn’t think it would be a chore to stay away.
But why would his uncle demand such a thing?
As soon as the question went through Oliver’s mind, he was certain he knew the answer. His uncle was worried she’d side with Oliver. Whoever this guest was, she must be intelligent enough to know the house couldn’t survive many more years before total collapse.