A rustic table and two benches stood beneath the willow tree, but Mayson ushered Mrs. Swinton past that, and under the willow itself. A sturdy plank platform had been built there. Sconces were set at the four corners of the platform, each containing a smudge pot. Mayson set the basket just to one side of the entry edge of the platform. Taking a box of congreves from his pocket, he set about lighting the smudges. They filled the air with the pungent scent of burning herbs.
“What is that for?” Mrs. Swinton asked. “It smells pleasant, but won’t the smoke be a bother?”
“The breeze should send the smoke out toward the water,” Mayson replied. “Or at least I hope it will. Without the smudge pot, we would quickly be nibbled to death by midges.”
Mrs. Swinton laughed. “Not a pleasant way to picnic. But what a lovely view!” She gazed out over the wide expanse of the brook, which was nearly in full spate, thanks to the spring rains. It tumbled and burbled its way past them. On the other side, they could see sheep and cattle grazing.
Mayson first spread the thick blanket, then added the red and white tablecloth. He then began to set out the picnic things.
“Oh, do let me help!” Mrs. Swinton protested.
“No, no,” Mayson waved her off. “This is my special treat. Another half-day, it can be your treat, and we will go somewhere or do something of your choosing.”
“It all looks so delicious!” she exclaimed.
“I am glad you think so, Mrs. Swinton,” Mayson replied.
“Oh, do call me Evelyn,” she said. “There is no need to be formal today.”
Mayson felt a tiny thrill of excitement. “I would like that, above all things,” he said. “And you must call me Mayson, not Mr. Rudge.”
“Thank you,” Evelyn replied. “We shall be like school children, using each other’s first names.” She sat down gracefully on one edge of the blanket.
Mayson seated himself at the other corner of the blanket. “Did you go to school, Mrs.—I mean, Evelyn?”
“To be sure, I did. Mother and Father scrimped and saved to make sure that every one of us could read and write. We were very fortunate in that a retired tutor lived on our street. He found teaching the local children to be an excellent way to add to the small stipend his former lord paid him.”
“That is fortunate,” Mayson agreed. “That explains why you are so well read.”
“Oh, as to that,” Evelyn blushed a little. “There was a used book seller who would lend out books for a penny so long as they were returned in good condition. Our evening amusement was to take turns reading aloud while we did mending or piece work and the like.”
For a moment, Mayson envisioned a very young Evelyn reading aloud to a cluster of boys and girls who hung on her every word.
“We loved to take turns, and would sometimes act out the fairy tales,” she was continuing to speak. “We had no idea how fortunate we were. It was simply the way things were supposed to be,” she ended simply.
“It sounds wonderful,” Mayson said a little wistfully. “I was an only child, and my... childhood home was not a happy one. My mother died while I was quite young, and my father was never quite the same afterward. I used to slip away and... visit the cook I told you about.”
“How fortunate that you had somewhere that you could feel safe,” she said. “And how well that turned out for you, learning a skill and all. Did he also teach you your letters?”
“Alas, no. I had a different teacher for that. It is a wonder that I did not come to hate books, for he firmly believed that lessons should be beaten into a child. I think it speaks well for the written word that I found it too fascinating to ignore.”
“What sorts of books do you enjoy?” Evelyn asked.
“Oh, all sorts,” Mayson replied. “I am especially fond of improving books and in my line of work I read a great many that are intended for the ladies of the household.”
“Can you give me an example?” Evelyn asked. “Perhaps I might like to read them, too.”
“Well,” he said, “I am currently perusing the Frugal Housewife.”
“Really?” she commented, with some interest. “That is rather new, is it not?”
“It is,” he replied, pleased by her interest. “It was published not long ago. I find that it has many useful things for kitchens in general, and I appreciate the recipes that are included. Indeed, some of them have been quite beneficial for Her Grace.”
“Oh, yes, she does like the little treats that you make for her. They make something special for her at bedtime. I have noticed that evening is difficult for her. She misses the late Duke.”
Evelyn looked out across the stream, her profile turned towards Mayson. As he watched, he saw her blink twice as if clearing something from her eyes, but when she turned back to him she smiled warmly and said, “We always miss those who have gone before, but it is our duty to keep on and take care of the living. I am so grateful to Her Grace for taking me on. This is a pleasant position for me.”
“I have also found it to be pleasant working here,” Mayson replied. “Her Grace is a gracious employer.”
