I thank him for bringing in my bags, but he explains he had not. He then says, “It must have been Master Harry.”
I’m confused who that is until I realize he means the grump, Grumpy, or Harrison.
I decide I should try and mend things with him, unless I want to drive all the way back to LA broke. I think of my possessive and toxic ex back in LA, and I feel ill.
“Look, can you please thank him for me?” I ask.
“Well, he doesn’t like to be distracted. Or interrupted.”
We share a look, and it appears William wants to explain. “The thing is, he works very hard, and I don’t see him often.”
That’s weird. But so is he.
“But if you like, you can thank him yourself.”
“How?” I ask, confused. “If he’s such a weird recluse? I mean, recluse.”
William walks to a strange old brass pipe system in a corner of the room. It has a bell next to it and a cable.
William points to the brass tube, bell, and small writing pad. He then explains the old-fashioned message system. That in the day, and before phones, people would send messages in the chateau using them.
That all you need to do is write a message on the small fancy card, then stick it in one of the small tubes and push the lever.
It would then woosh away and be sent in the pipe to another room, using a vacuum system thing. After, you pull the cable in your room, a bell would then ring, informing the second party a message is at the end of their tube.
I smile as I realize it is cute and clever. Like old-fashioned messaging or texting.
“So, just write a message, switch this, and ring the bell?”
William nods, and I shrug, deciding to try it later.
William then rounds on me. “Now, dear. It sounds like there was some confusion regarding your employment.”
Here we go.
“But while you are here, and while you can’t leave?—”
“Why can’t I leave?” I say in panic.
“Well, the storm has taken out two of the bridges, and your car needs attention.”
“Ahh,” I say as thunder rumbles.
“Now, if your leg is fine.”
“And it is,” I say, not wincing too much now. “I may as well work?”
“Only if you later feel like it,” he says.
“That would be nice,” I say. “I do adore being a chef.”
“Splendid,” William says, “and it will buy us time to work out this… ahhh, confusion.”
I nod and beam. “Sounds wise.”
William and I sit, and I make him tea. He then explains I should communicate directly with Grumpy and ask him what he wishes to eat, where, and when.
William also says he will show me the kitchen after I shower or bath.
