Gather Ye Rosebuds by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online

devoted and such a worker that we are never savage with her.
    She continued her litany of woe. “Didn’t I find her in the darkest corner of the dining room snuggling with Steptoe last night. I promised her ma I’d look after her. Either he goes or I go, for I’ll not have my girls tampered with by the likes of him.”
    “Send Steptoe in, Brodagan,” I said.
    “Send him in, is it, and he in the tower rifling through Mr. McShane’s poor bits o’ rubbish, thinking to find tuppence in a dead man’s pockets. That’s a good many stairs for my poor limbs to climb.”
    “He is in the tower room now?” I asked.
    “That’s where he spent the morning, and no more clearing away done than if he’d stayed at the door, where he’d ought to have been. I wasn’t hired to be answering the door. It was that Mrs. Chawton who called, about the books.” She drew out a note and fought her way through it as if it were a patch of nettles. “She says Guy Man . . . somebody, or was it Scott? Anyhow, it’s sold out, and Vicar’s wife don’t care for the heathen, Lord Byre, or is it Berry? No matter, she said the fellow who wrote about little Harold. Mrs. Dobbigan and Mrs. Steele have already read every word of Maria Edgewool, and none of the other ladies like your idea of Proud and Prejudiced, by an onymous lady. I never trust an ominous lady. If she’s afraid to put her name to her scribbling, you may be sure the book is no better than it should be.”
    “Thank you, Brodagan. I shall deal with Mrs. Chawton. I am sorry you had the inconvenience of looking after the door.”
    “Your apron, Brodagan! You have singed it,” Mama said.
    Brodagan stared placidly at her charred apron. “There’s two night’s work and two shillings of me pittance of money gone up in flames, for I’ll not disgrace you by being seen in this ruin again, meladies. It’ll make dandy rags,” she said, and sailed out. Of course, she would cut off the burned edge and have Mary rehem it, but one did not introduce reality into one of her Celtic tragedies.
    “I shall go up and bring Steptoe down for you to dismiss him, Mama,” I said.
    Her pretty face pinched in displeasure. “Why don’t you speak to him yourself, dear? You handle him better than I.”
    Mama dislikes trouble nearly as much as Brodagan relishes it. I fall in the middle, and am the go-between for such jobs as this. I did not look forward to confronting Steptoe, but I did not dread it either. I found him in the tower room, as Brodagan had said. He was separating my uncle’s belongings into two boxes, one for the better items, one for the worn garments.
    He looked up boldly. “I’ll keep this lot for myself,” he said, pointing to the box of good clothes. “My tailor can do something with these jackets.”
    “My tailor”—as though he were a fine gent! It was the little goad I needed to lend sharpness to my words. “I have just returned from Parham, Steptoe. I told her ladyship where the diamonds were found. No legal action will be taken.”
    He looked sulky, but not so chastened as he ought. “I am afraid we cannot see our way clear to increasing your salary. Naturally you will not want to remain with us at your present wage. You may consider yourself free to look for another position. It will be best if you not use us as a reference. Let us say two weeks, to give us both time to make other arrangements.”
    His snuff brown eyes narrowed. “I might be able to get along on my present wage for the meanwhile,” he said.
    “You force me to remove the gloves, Steptoe. Your services are no longer required.”
    His reply was not apologetic, but aggressive. “I never took nothing from you! You can’t say I did.”
    “I did not accuse you of stealing the spoons.”
    “If it’s that little Chinese jug from Parham you’re referring to, I never took it. It got broken, and if one like it turned up at the antique store, it’s nothing to do with me.”
    It was foolish of him to