you care to attack it?”
He cupped a match over the bowl of his pipe. The tobacco lit with a hiss and he blew out a mouthful of smoke.
“No harm in trying, is there?”
That evening I ate all the food on my plate, as well as a piece of Cheddar cheese afterwards. As Grateley was taking the plate away and after I had asked him to thank Mrs. Lyons, I said, “It has come to my notice that a member of staff has been using one of the bedrooms upstairs.”
He did not falter. “A member of staff, ma’am?”
“Or rather two members of staff.”
“Two members of staff?”
“There is no need to repeat everything I say, Grateley. I do not know who is responsible, nor do I intend to make any effort to find out. However, I do not wish this to happen again. Will you make my feelings on the matter known?”
“Of course. Certainly I will, ma’am.”
With my plate in his hand, he moved across to the sideboard. Before he reached it, I said, “By the way, Grateley, I have not inquired for some time, how is your lumbago?”
He stopped in mid-pace.
“My lumbago? It is very much better, thank you, ma’am.”
“Good. I am pleased to hear that. And do be sure to give my regards to Mrs. Grateley,” I added.
His composure was badly holed by now. “I — I will indeed, ma’am,” he said.
No more hurriedly than usual, although rather less fluently, Grateley gathered up the serving dishes. He disappeared through the swing door with one long leg trailing behind him.
My efforts to find Robert a new governess have proved fruitless. Several of those who had advertised in the newspaper did not even reply when I wrote to them. None of those that did sounded remotely suitable. There are noticeably fewer advertisements than usual for domestic positions; no doubt people are loath to think of new jobs at such a time.
Mr. Brown, I am afraid, has found nothing. Nothing except for a few minute fragments of blue glass and some splinters of bone. These have been packaged up and sent off to the museum in Ipswich for analysis. The work is taking longer than anticipated — due in part to the size of the mound. It has been, he says, like digging into the side of a small mountain.
By the end of the third day it was plain that all three men were not just tired but disillusioned. I noticed they seldom talked to one another any more when they were working. At their break times they sat around looking contemplative and glum. Mr. Brown, in particular, is taking it all personally, plainly feeling that his failure to find anything is a reflection on his competence. As for Jacobs and Spooner, I suspect they cannot wait for Saturday to come around and for the excavation to be over.
Still it has continued to rain, this incessant, lowering, halfhearted drizzle. But instead of clearing the air, the rain merely seems to make it even heavier. My fingers have swollen, the joints in particular. If I was to take off my rings, I doubt I would be able to put them on again.
Robert too has been affected, by both the weather and the general atmosphere. He seems listless, devoid of enthusiasm. At luncheon today he scarcely said a word, while his appetite, I noticed, was almost as poor as mine. Afterwards he said he was going outside to see Mr. Brown and the men. However, the tone of his voice suggested this would be as much of a chore as everything else.
In the afternoon, I went to Frank’s study and sat at his desk. Even if it were not for its associations, I think this would be my favorite room in the house; it seems to hold the daylight longer than any of the others. I had been intending to sort through his papers; there are still some bundles that have not been properly collated.
But once there I found I had neither the resolve nor the energy even to make a start. Clouds sat above the estuary,so gray and low it was virtually impossible to tell where the water ended and the sky began. Only a thin pencil line separated them.
On the shelf above Frank’s
He cupped a match over the bowl of his pipe. The tobacco lit with a hiss and he blew out a mouthful of smoke.
“No harm in trying, is there?”
That evening I ate all the food on my plate, as well as a piece of Cheddar cheese afterwards. As Grateley was taking the plate away and after I had asked him to thank Mrs. Lyons, I said, “It has come to my notice that a member of staff has been using one of the bedrooms upstairs.”
He did not falter. “A member of staff, ma’am?”
“Or rather two members of staff.”
“Two members of staff?”
“There is no need to repeat everything I say, Grateley. I do not know who is responsible, nor do I intend to make any effort to find out. However, I do not wish this to happen again. Will you make my feelings on the matter known?”
“Of course. Certainly I will, ma’am.”
With my plate in his hand, he moved across to the sideboard. Before he reached it, I said, “By the way, Grateley, I have not inquired for some time, how is your lumbago?”
He stopped in mid-pace.
“My lumbago? It is very much better, thank you, ma’am.”
“Good. I am pleased to hear that. And do be sure to give my regards to Mrs. Grateley,” I added.
His composure was badly holed by now. “I — I will indeed, ma’am,” he said.
No more hurriedly than usual, although rather less fluently, Grateley gathered up the serving dishes. He disappeared through the swing door with one long leg trailing behind him.
My efforts to find Robert a new governess have proved fruitless. Several of those who had advertised in the newspaper did not even reply when I wrote to them. None of those that did sounded remotely suitable. There are noticeably fewer advertisements than usual for domestic positions; no doubt people are loath to think of new jobs at such a time.
Mr. Brown, I am afraid, has found nothing. Nothing except for a few minute fragments of blue glass and some splinters of bone. These have been packaged up and sent off to the museum in Ipswich for analysis. The work is taking longer than anticipated — due in part to the size of the mound. It has been, he says, like digging into the side of a small mountain.
By the end of the third day it was plain that all three men were not just tired but disillusioned. I noticed they seldom talked to one another any more when they were working. At their break times they sat around looking contemplative and glum. Mr. Brown, in particular, is taking it all personally, plainly feeling that his failure to find anything is a reflection on his competence. As for Jacobs and Spooner, I suspect they cannot wait for Saturday to come around and for the excavation to be over.
Still it has continued to rain, this incessant, lowering, halfhearted drizzle. But instead of clearing the air, the rain merely seems to make it even heavier. My fingers have swollen, the joints in particular. If I was to take off my rings, I doubt I would be able to put them on again.
Robert too has been affected, by both the weather and the general atmosphere. He seems listless, devoid of enthusiasm. At luncheon today he scarcely said a word, while his appetite, I noticed, was almost as poor as mine. Afterwards he said he was going outside to see Mr. Brown and the men. However, the tone of his voice suggested this would be as much of a chore as everything else.
In the afternoon, I went to Frank’s study and sat at his desk. Even if it were not for its associations, I think this would be my favorite room in the house; it seems to hold the daylight longer than any of the others. I had been intending to sort through his papers; there are still some bundles that have not been properly collated.
But once there I found I had neither the resolve nor the energy even to make a start. Clouds sat above the estuary,so gray and low it was virtually impossible to tell where the water ended and the sky began. Only a thin pencil line separated them.
On the shelf above Frank’s
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