Raven and Rue // Lindensea 1

Chapter 7: The Clerk of the Kitchen

Mrs Bennett curtsied as she came through the door, murmuring "Good afternoon, sir."

The Clerk of the Kitchen was a nattily-dressed man in late middle age with a large bare forehead, and shrewd eyes behind his little round spectacles. He looked up from his desk where he had been doing accounts, and said blankly, "My stars, it's Mrs Bennett! Please, have a seat, madam."

Mrs Bennett sat down with a word of thanks, trying not to look hungry and desperate, and not entirely succeeding. It's so difficult to pull this off when you have just eaten your last morsel of food and spent your last coin.

"You have gone up in the world, Mr Smedley," said Mrs Bennett. "When I left, you were the head butler."

"Oh yes, I have had a promotion or two since then. It's very kind of you to drop in for a visit like this, Mrs Bennett. May I offer you a glass of sherry?"

"It's not a social visit, Mr Smedley. I have come to ask if my former position is still open."

"Goodness me. Well, have a sherry anyway - or perhaps you'd prefer a nice cup of tea?"

He fetched Mrs Bennett a cup of tea from the silver urn in a corner of his office, and then suddenly looked very serious and business-like.

"Now, Mrs Bennett. You left us more than a dozen years ago, in order to take up a position as cook to a widowed gentleman in the country. Sounds ideal. Nice and quiet, not much work involved, and would have left you well set up for your old age."

Mr Smedley looked sharply at Mrs Bennett, at her dirty shoes, her old clothes, her work-hardened hands, her back bowed from carrying burdens.

"It suited me perfectly, Mr Smedley. But then the gentleman passed on, and his son inherited the estate."

"Aha. And that wasn't so good?"

"Not quite," said Mrs Bennett carefully, sipping her tea. "And then the son died, very unexpectedly in an accident, and the house was sold up."

"I see. Well, I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs Bennett. Sorry to hear that you've had this trouble, and been left high and dry, so to speak."

He shuffled with some papers and gave Mrs Bennett a considering look.

"You've had a bit of bad luck, but perhaps it's time for you to have some good luck. As it happens, our head pastry cook has just left. He received a very tempting offer to work for the French royal family in Paris, much more money than he could make here. I could offer you the position right now. Shall we say, at ten percent less than your old wages?"

Mrs Bennett's heart sunk a little, because nobody likes getting a pay cut and missing out on more than a dozen years of wage rises at the same time.

"That's very kind of you, Mr Smedley," she said, perhaps sounding slightly less grateful than she might have. "I suppose it's only fair you pay me less, considering my age, and how long it is since I worked here."

"I'm glad you see that for yourself, Mrs Bennett," said Mr Smedley eagerly. "And there are a lot of perks, as you know. We give you free uniforms, and launder them each day. All meals free in the staff dining room. And your own room at the palace - something quite superior due to your position. We've redecorated since you were last here, done a lot of modernising in the staff quarters."

"That all sounds very nice. But you know, I have my grandson living with me now."

"Your grandson? How old is he?" asked Mr Smedley with a frown.

"He's nearly ten."

"Is he the child of your son, or your daughter?"

"Oh, my daughter, to be sure," Mrs Bennett said.