“Oh my,” I say. “That’s not how it goes at all, is it?”
Mary’s father lets out a boom of a laugh. “It is not, but it a lovely song to hear nonetheless. I do hope I didn’t misunderstand the lyrics.”
“Easy enough to do with our dreadful voices.” I look at Mary. “You suggested you would be available to work for us if we decided to hire additional staff with the baby. I would like to offer you a live-out position, to be assumed any time after the holidays. The salary will be negotiated once we have a better understanding of our needs and your availability, but it will be no less than twelve shillings a week for half-time employment.”
Mary goggles at me. “Twelve shillings for half-time?”
“That is very generous,” her mother says. “I do not think she requires quite so much, but as you said, it can be negotiated.”
The average house maid in this era can expect to make about fifteen pounds a year, slightly more than doubled if they aren’t given room and board. What we’re offering is a full-time wage for half-time work. It’s woefully low by modern standards but to go higher would smack of charity.
“We certainly can negotiate later,” I say, my smile belying the fact that I don’t intend to offer a pence less.
“As for the second part of our song,” William says. “I know young John has been seeking employment outside the family farm. With the baby coming and my wife’s occasional family obligations in London, I have realized I will require additional stable staff. I wish to make a similar offer to young John. Twelve pence a week for a half-time live-out groom position, to be negotiated properly after the holidays.”
“Groom?” John says. “You mean stable-boy, do you not?”
“Am I mistaken that you passed your thirteenth birthday recently?”
“N-no, sir. You are not.”
“I have a stable boy, who works after his school classes, and he is but eleven years of age. That would mean, I believe, that you are better suited for the position of groom. Unless you would prefer to be a stable boy.”
The boy straightens. “No, sir.”
“You are fond of horses, I believe.”
“Very much, sir.”
“Then we will suit nicely.” William lifts the basket. “While we realize it is traditional to collect sweets while caroling, we find ourselves quite overburdened with them. We were hoping we might leave these here.”
“Were you not continuing your caroling, Lord Thorne?” Mary asks. “I would join you if you were.”
William hesitates.
Mary’s mother elbows her daughter. “Lady Thorne ought not to be on her feet any longer than necessary.”
“I would be quite fine with a few more stops,” I say. “Perhaps you would know who in town might not be otherwise occupied on this evening?”
Mary nods, understanding my meaning—are there lonely villagers whose evenings we might brighten?
“There’s the Widow Allen,” Mary says. “And Mr. Morris’s children have not yet come for the holidays.”
“If they do at all,” her mother grumbles.
“Then we shall make those stops and perhaps a third. Please feel free to join us, Mary.”
“We’ll all join you, if that’s all right, ma’am,” her mother says.
I smile. “That would be delightful. Thank you.”
T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The last rodent, it seems, had been caught this morning and deposited on my pillow as an early Christmas gift. We have peace now, as we cuddle on the loveseat in the library, watching our blissed-out cats lolling on the carpet.
“What did you call it again?” William asks. “The herb in those toys?”
“Catnip.”
“For cats? How intriguing. I’ve heard of catnip tea for humans.” He watches Enigma purring loudly, wrapped around her toy. “I do believe I shall invest in catnip as a cure for the overactive kitten.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll sell it on the pharmacy shelf, right beside Godfrey’s Cordial, for fussy babies. Which reminds me, I ought to purchase some of that for little Melvina.”
When I glance over, his lips are twitching.
I squeeze his thigh. “Not funny.”
“No? I do believe opium addiction is a small price to pay for a quiet baby.”
“Which reminds me that’s something we need to discuss with Mary. Absolutely no giving Melvina medicine for colic or teething or crying, even if it’s an old family recipe.”
“Probably best to just request that she not give the baby anything unless approved by us.”
“True.”
Godfrey’s Cordial was a well-known “cure” for cranky babies in the Victorian era, along with several similar concoctions. In this time