The Lady's Slipper by Deborah Swift Read Free Book Online

wanted more sons, but could not bring himself to go near his wife again. Nevertheless, an insurrection did sound serious. Rawlinson owned vast swathes of the uplands and many local farms, and besides that he was the county Justice of the Peace. So if anyone knew what was happening in the county, it was Rawlinson.
    Geoffrey let go of the idea of a soothing bath, a few more drinks and an early night between cool sheets.
    ‘Very well. What time are they coming?’
    ‘The card said seven o’clock.’
    ‘But that is within the hour!’
    ‘Do not fret. Lizzie will bring them in here for some sweetmeats, and I will send Patterson up to tell you when supper is served.’ Seeming to sense his increased annoyance, she gave him a curt little nod and retreated to her private chambers.
     
    Supper was the usual affair. Geoffrey was glad to be carving at his own table again. The food in New England was plentiful but not to his taste–too many green vegetables that gave him wind. He had longed for a good piece of roast beef or pheasant, and proper ale brewed the English way.
    Emilia had found the gifts and was enthusing to Jane Rawlinson about the silver snuff boxes and a pair of fine lace gloves that Geoffrey had brought back from the port of London, where they had made a brief trade stop.
    Jane Rawlinson was a stout, matronly woman who had no interest in fripperies such as lace gloves and snuff boxes. She was sitting upright on the mahogany dining chair with the napkin set squarely on her lap. Geoffrey saw her cast her eyes around the room as if searching for something to disapprove of. But the room was elegantly furnished, a fire blazed in the carved stone hearth and candle sconces bearing droplets of glass cast a flickering glow.
    Geoffrey had hung the recent paintings of himself–one on horseback, and the other standing outside the house with his brindled greyhounds–either side of the fireplace. Jane tried not to look impressed, but he caught her leaning towards them for a closer look. The dining table was laid out with a good amount of clean white linen, silver cutlery and pewter trenchers. Unable to find fault with her surroundings, she turned to her hostess and began to ask questions. She asked how Emilia ran her household, how many gardeners, cooks, handymen and so forth Emilia employed, and what all their exact duties might be. Apparently Jane’s own household was run with precision and an authoritarian hand.
    Of course, Emilia soon found herself floundering, probably because she was quite unable to confess to Jane Rawlinson that she had not the faintest notion what her servants did. Geoffrey knew that while he was away the hired hands were often left to their own devices, whilst Emilia tinkled the spinet and, now that it was permitted again, planned her ‘little entertainments’. Besides, he suspected that his wife was actually a touch afraid of her housekeeper. And this was a fact she certainly would not reveal to Jane Rawlinson. Geoffrey watched his wife twirl her thin blonde hair and toy with the cutlery, whilst Jane told her how she should keep her servants on their toes. He let her stew in it. It might make her a bit more useful.
    He returned his attention to Robert, who was slurping his way through his second tankard of ale. Robert continued to talk.
    ‘So you see, Geoffrey, I am determined to quash these troublemakers before they get out of hand.’ He bit off a large chunk of beef and chewed, wiping his dripping mouth on his napkin. ‘There has been a broil in the church, with a woman getting up and calling the curate an infidel. A woman!’
    The two ladies looked up.
    ‘She raised a fine old commotion. Apparently she said there was no such thing as the Devil except in the hearts of those who abuse the poor.’ He nodded round the table to make sure everyone was listening. ‘She said the church was taking grain from their mouths. Some good folk stood up to defend the church but they were set upon by her