He was tired. It had been a frustrating day. He saw now just how little respect he had here at home when he had spent every waking moment trying to find a way to make their lives better. The last person he thought he’d have to fight today was Clara. And certainly not about crockery!
He caught her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Clara, listen to me. This is not the way things are done.”
She arched her brows. “So you know the way things are done, then?”
“Yes!”
“You know how to wash dishes or bake bread? You know who sews what and why?” She jerked backwards from him. “You understand how people are paid to do their work? Who is the gong farmer here and how is he chosen? Better yet, how often is he needed?”
He gaped at her. “Clara, make sense.”
“I am! I am learning the systems that are in place, from the lowest task to the highest. If I haven’t done it, then I don’t understand it, do I?”
“You’re not going to muck out the latrine as a gong farmer!”
She shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’ve been learning a great deal about how it’s done while I’ve been baking bread.” She dropped her hands on her hips. “Do you know that Deirdre has an excellent memory for numbers. Must be how she remembers all those stitches. But she also knows what everyone is paid.”
“She couldn’t. She’s not—”
“Old enough? The chatelaine? Believe me, the quiet ones hear everything.” Then she turned him away. “And those with a good head remember it.”
He watched as she dragged out a washtub filled with brackish water. She groaned as she moved it. He rushed around the center table to help her, but by the time he got there, she already had it where she wanted. Then she squatted down just as if she worked in the laundry and began washing the bowls one by one. The sight horrified him. She was a noblewoman, educated and brilliant. To see her thus was to waste her talents, and yet he could see the stubborn jut to her chin and the tight hunch of her shoulders.
“This is madness,” he said.
She shrugged. “I have been called worse.”
What could he say to that? She was determined in her course, and he…well he was starting to respect that she had thought things through. At least better than he had. Which meant he had better join her since he sure as hell couldn’t fight her. She was too determined.
He grabbed a bowl and began to wash it.
“What are you doing?”
He smiled at her. “What does it look like? I’m joining your madness. Now tell me. What did you learn from Rhona and Deirdre?”
She looked at him for a long moment. And though he was acutely aware of her inspection, he kept his head down as he continued to wash dishes. And then he smiled when she began to talk.
“It really was quite interesting,” she said, her voice tentative.
“I’m listening,” he said. And he was.
