She took a seat at the table’s head, smiling past her skittishness. “Perhaps it would be best if we start by my hearing any of your needs and grievances about running a townhouse such as this.”
The next hour had her penning their responses and making note of needed changes or what was working well and needed continuing.
“I believe Ardraigh Hall is to be my principal concern,” Juliet told them. “But Mr. Buchanan asked me to oversee the workings here too, with your assistance.”
“Will ye be needing a lady’s maid, Mrs. Buchanan?” Ruby asked a bit overloudly. “Minette was telling me she’s available, as the other Mrs. Buchanan has one too many and is willing to let her go.”
“But we realize Americans might do things differently,” Mrs. Baillie added quickly, darting a look at Ruby as if to quiet her.
“We thought ye might bring yer own maid, ma’am,” said Haskins, the footman.
“Indeed, every genteel lady here has one,” Ruby said with renewed enthusiasm.
Juliet smiled. “Minette would be a great help as I alternate between both houses. If Mrs. Buchanan is willing to part with her, I’ll gladly employ her.”
“I’ll send word right away to Paisley, then.” Mrs. Baillie took off her spectacles and cleaned them with the hem of her apron. “Mr. Buchanan spoke of hosting a ball soon for Miss Catesby in the formal drawing room here or one of the assembly rooms in Glasgow. Yer choice, ma’am.”
“I shall be glad of it,” Juliet said, imagining Loveday’s reaction. “My sister too. I’m guessing the drawing room here would be more suitable for a smaller gathering while the assembly rooms you mention are for larger functions?”
“Och, to be sure.” Mrs. Baillie nodded so vigorously her mobcap seemed in peril. “I ken all of Glasgow and beyond is wanting a look at ye both, so the assembly room might suit. But ’tis entirely yer pleasure. Mr. Buchanan told us to do whatever ye wish.”
Though they were all obliging, Juliet felt another qualm. Must she and Leith communicate with each other through the servants in future? “I’ll confer with my sister, then, to see what might suit her best.”
“I’ve a list of what was required at the last function Mr. Buchanan hosted to give ye some idea of the outlay.” Opening a daybook, Mrs. Baillie adjusted her spectacles. “My handwriting isn’t what it once was due to rheumatism. Might I read it to ye, ma’am?”
“Of course,” Juliet replied.
“The bill of fare was as follows.” She cleared her throat. “One hundred sirloins of beef. One hundred tongues. One hundred baked pies. One hundred geese roasted. One hundred turkeys, ducks, and pullets. Fifty hams. One thousandFrench loaves. Two thousand large pints of butter. One hundredweight of Gloucester cheese. Tea, coffee, and chocolate in abundance. Two thousand saffron cakes. Two thousand, five hundred bottles of wine. A most splendid and large pyramid of sweetmeats in the middle of the dessert in the center of the room, along with a great number of stands of jelly and a curious fountain playing, handsomely ornamented with ivy, etc.”
Juliet tried to keep the astonishment off her face. “Was this just one occasion?”
“Oh, aye, ma’am,” Haskins told her. “The breakfast following the twins’ christening.”
“Such a sonsie time everyone had,” Ruby said, eyes alight. “I’ll ne’er forget it.”
Juliet tried to imagine the expense and extravagance. And failed.
“There’s another matter, ma’am.” Mrs. Baillie took something from her pocket. “The keys to the sugar and tea chest are to be yers when yer in residence here.”
“And I’ve the keys to the medicine chest.” Haskins got up to show her the delight of any apothecary, Loveday included. “If ye have any questions or needs, we’re ready to assist ye at any time of the day or night.”
“Just one final question,” Juliet said. “There’s a locked room I haven’t seen on the second floor.”
The servants threw each other wary glances. Had she trespassed on a tender topic?
Finally Mrs. Baillie said, “’Tis the former Mrs. Buchanan’s bedchamber and dressing room, ma’am. The ones she kept till the night of her death. The master said ’tis not to be opened nor touched.”
Unwilling to keep the newspaper clippings a moment longer, Juliet shut her bedchamber and perused them. Seven in all, they marked the progression from Havilah’s death to the private funeral afterward. The public loved a printed scandal, and they’d had it in spades. But could the papers be trusted? There was mention of poison ... foul play. One of two maids was named. But no mention was made of where Havilah had been buried. Leith’s sealing of Havilah’s rooms suggested he wasn’t finished with the matter.
When Mama had died, Father wanted no remembrance of her save her portrait on the wall. Juliet and Loveday had taken from her possessions what they wanted to keep, then given the rest away to the servants. But grief, she supposed, was as unique as its personal pain and was handled differently by different people.
She returned the papers to the chest just as she’d found them. Somehow they helped her understand this new husband of hers and all that had transpired before he’d sailed to the colonies and become a part of her life. Yet Havilah also seemed to pose a complication she didn’t know how to grapple with and made her all the more curious to meet their children.
41
As for myself, I am now with Mr. Glassford and shall continue there for about four years. I have been very close confined there from 6 o’clock in the morning till after 9 at night.
William Scott, Glasgow clerk
