The Purpose of Miss Shepley

Chapter Five (part I)

The Ansleys and the Blackwells usually found their way to Ewert by midday, very often not finding their way home again until my grandfather rose from his seat by the fire and bid all a firm good night. Then they summoned their servants and donned their hats and cloaks, laughing about how quaint country life was.

My younger guests complained more and more about Ewert's husbandman hours as the days passed, til one evening, Elfie Ansley decided to persuade the rest of us into some mischief.

"Why don't you all come back to town with us?" he suggested. "We can finish our game at the cottage."

Temperance frowned, rather poutily. "And walk back in the middle of the night?"

"Stay overnight, then... You can have the maid's room."

I frowned. "But then where will the maid sleep?"

Elfie shrugged, but Hollis interrupted whatever he was about to say with, "Miss Grimmond can't stay in servant's quarters."

"Besides," Temperance said, fluttering her lashes in a way that was somehow both demure and coquettish, "Mother will never let me go visiting overnight."

"Well, alright, I'll stay here, then," Elfie said.

"There's no point." Hollis shook his head. "By quarter after eleven, this house is shut up like a jail. The doors are locked, the candles snuffed out..."

Earnest grinned, adding, "If you turn a page too loudly, old man Shepley sends out his hounds."

Elfie strived on, undaunted. "Well then, sneak out and meet me. There's got to be an empty barn or something... Eh, Miss Shepley?"

"Well, there's the wool shed," I told him, thinking that would be the end of it. Alas, Elfie did not understand me.

His eyes eager and his brows high, he asked, "Is there a table or anything in it?"

"There are quite a lot of raw fleeces..."

"No table, then?" He frowned, thoughtfully. "Do you think we could rig one up?"

I tried hard to not scowl at him -- this was a wool merchant's son!

"Perhaps," I said, "if you can stand the smell long enough."

Earnest snorted.

"Well, how about Oakhurst and I go back to town with you," Hollis suggested. He glanced at Earnest. "Your mother would let you go, surely...?"

Immediately, Temperance protested. "That's no fair to me, at all!"

Hollis said not another word. He re-arranged his cards instead, with his shoulders drooped rather sheepishly.

It was my turn, then. I looked at the Rook Earnest had just put down, and considered my hand. I had two Knaves, a King, and a Queen I could play, but I folded my cards and said, "Well, that's the end of me."

This was met with some display of disappointment, but it was a brief one -- before I'd even risen from my seat, Temperance was greedily scooping up Earnest's Rook.

I took my knitting to the fire and sat beside Miss Goodwin. Mr. Wentworth was reading some very dull political paper to her -- an opinion on the best use of the old Wolfmarch.

On the other side of me, my grandfather was engaged with Captain Acton and Wesley Blackwell in most sober conversation on a similar subject.

There had apparently been some attempts to dam the Smallbourne, a small river, I supposed, somewhere west of the Stanbourne. A company of lumbermen wanted to build a saw mill there so that they could simply float their wares down to the port cities, rather than pay to have raw logs trimmed up at one of the Southland mills.