Kerr, you will find torn seams, missing buttons, dangling pockets, all the usual. Repair them if you can. I shall rejoin you well before the supper hour and see how you’ve progressed.”
Elisabeth stared at the basket. Was she expected to finish all of this by day’s end? “Very well, Mrs. Pringle.”
The housekeeper stood, dabbing at her mouth. “Sally will take you to the workroom. Meanwhile, I’ve a household to manage.” Mrs. Pringle did not wait for a response but quit her office with a sweep of her skirts.
Elisabeth could not waste a moment. She gulped down her tea, nearly scalding her tongue, then gathered her belongings and followed Sally back through the drawing room and into the broad hallway with its gleaming sconces and fabric-covered walls.
“This way, mem.” Still carrying the heavy basket, Sally led her through a side door and down a steep, curving stairway to the servants’ domain below. Though plain and unadorned, the service corridor was freshly scrubbed and well lit.
Elisabeth peered through each open door in passing, noting Mrs. Pringle’s influence reflected in the tidy shelves, neat rows of chairs, carefully folded linens, and polished brass lanterns. Twenty, perhaps even thirty servants would eventually labor here. The few souls on hand, hard at work that morning, paused long enough to bob their heads and smile at her. Was Lord Buchanan a fair and just employer or a tyrant? By week’s end, Lord willing, she would have her answer.
“Here ye are, mem.” Sally blushed prettily, holding open the door to a low-ceilinged room. Though it had only one window, and quite a high one at that, the room also had a candle-stool with a circle of chairs round it. “I’ll see to the fire,” Sally said, lifting the candle from the mantel, then kneeling before the small hearth, where twigs, sticks, and a split log were expertly laid, awaiting the touch of her flame. She also trimmed and lit the wick in the center of the three-legged candle-stool edged with round glass flasks, each filled with water, magnifying the light. One beeswax candle gleamed like a dozen.
“Will this suit ye, mem?” Sally asked as the wood fire began to crackle.
Elisabeth clasped her basket, surveying the room. Though it was chilly now, the fire would soon warm her, and the clever lighting was more than sufficient. If only Angus had kept such a stool in his dimly lit shop! The unknown contents of the willow basket were her main concern. “I’d best begin,” she told Sally, who disappeared with a curtsy.
Alone at last, Elisabeth slipped off her light wool cape and hung it by the door, then settled into one of the chairs, placing the mending basket at her feet and her sewing basket on the empty chair next to her. The day was still young. If the Lord smiled on her work, she might finish before the gloaming.
Elisabeth whispered a prayer for quick fingers and a keen eye, then claimed the first item to be mended, a gentleman’s shirt. Rather than the coarse muslin of a laborer or the thick linen of a servant, the fabric was a fine cambric: almost certainly Lord Buchanan’s.
A nervous shiver danced up her spine as she lifted the garment for a closer inspection. She’d sewn men’s shirts for the last month, but this was different. A gentleman who was not her husband, a gentleman she’d never even met, had worn this fabric against his skin. Numerous times, apparently, for cambric lost its sheen after several launderings.
Judging by the length of the sleeves and breadth of the shoulder seams, Lord Buchanan was indeed tall. She would need to look up to meet his gaze and would not easily see round him. A pleasant scent, more like soap than sweat, clung to the fabric, and the clean neckline hinted at a man who bathed often.
Enough, Bess. She blushed, lowering the shirt to her lap. Her task was to mend his clothes, not assess them. She quickly found a lengthy gap along the side seam, easily repaired. After threading her needle, she went to work and finished the last stitch a half hour later. She pressed on to the next item, a waistcoat with three missing buttons, requiring an entirely new set, which she retrieved from her basket. A rather new linen apron needed only a few stitches to reattach the waistband, and a second shirt of a lesser quality was quickly hemmed.
As the morning progressed, she draped each finished piece over the chair