What was he saying? The noblewoman in her felt outraged. He wasn’t suggesting they should make love here in this common room, with people sleeping all around them? However, that part of her which Lady Edith had called a commoner and a whore felt her heart race in her chest and her quim become wet with want. Oh, why was it that she’d started to lust after this man so?
“Good night then, wife,” he suddenly said, and Emma bit her lip in sheer, strange disappointment.
Yet she could not help but smile as he added, in a voice which sounded cross and weary, yet mixed with mischief, “And may your night be just as restless as mine will be!”
CHAPTER 12
Upon their return to Nottingham, Emma attempted to learn as much as she could from Aunt Royse of the chores needed in her new household. Some things were certainly easy and Emma, who'd been well trained to take over her role as chatelaine, had no trouble learning most of the ways of a much smaller household, where each and every small and great thing was stored, and what should be done to keep such things in good order. As for mending, sewing and weaving, Emma had always been quite diligent regarding such chores, and by the grudging approval with which Aunt Royse watched upon them, she suspected Rowena hadn't been as skilful as Emma herself when it came to such tasks. At first, Emma felt afraid the older woman would notice the changes and think them strange, but Arthen's aunt said nothing of it, and this set Emma's mind at ease. However, while there were many tasks which Emma had no difficulty taking upon herself, others—the heavier chores servants had usually performed—did not come easy to her. Scrubbing floors or washing laundry had not been things Emma was used to doing, but she'd never shirked from work and she did not find such tasks in any way demeaning.They were simply a part of her new life which she strived to get accustomed to.
Form what she learned from Arthen's aunt, in the past Master Archer and Rowena had employed a servant to help with the heavier chores, but Rowena's reckless behaviour had made them unable to pay for servants at this time. Emma suppressed a sigh to think of the deceitful tale Rowena had spun to her, making her believe her life had been wretched and impoverished. But as far as Emma could see there was no poverty in Master Archer's house, although things were not leisurely. However, the present lack of leisure must be mostly due to Rowena's own actions.
Emma did as much as she could to become used to her new life and to look upon every new thing she learnt with good cheer. She found it was not hard to do so while Robin was by her side. And soon she grew quite fond of both Aunt Royse and Maggie, who became her aid and comfort. Her new household tasks became easier as time went by, and one day she felt confident enough to tell Aunt Royse that from now on she would handle the cooking, as so far Arthen's aunt had been in charge of their daily fare.
"You needn't burden yourself with this from now on, Auntie. I'm certain I shall manage," Emma resolved one day, knowing she couldn't rely on the older woman's kindness forever.
Aunt Royse was no longer young and she had a household of her own to supervise, as well as an ailing husband she watched over. It was unfair to take advantage of her willingness to help with no further thought.
"Oh, you've finally decided to cook!" Maggie, who was with them at this time, cried with a delighted expression upon her face.
Emma blanched, and cast a worried glance in Aunt Royse's direction. As other times before, she wondered what Arthen'saunt was making of Emma's strange way of tending to the household. But Aunt Royse's expression betrayed nothing.
"Good. About time then. I've my own cooking to see to," Arthen's aunt said.
Soon Aunt Royse rejoined her own home, leaving just Maggie and Emma with the children to chat in the kitchen. Emma looked rather wistfully at Maggie, knowing the other woman was a fine cook and baker, but also well aware she would be showing her own clumsiness if she asked Maggie to aid her in this. She'd been unable to inquire and had no way of knowing how Rowena's own cooking had been, but she assumed Rowena at least was used to preparing meals by herself and not just to supervising others who did the cooking.
When Maggie and Will left, Emma set about fashioning a simple meal, conjuring up in her mind all those times she'd supervised large meals with several courses in her own household. She was well versed in recipes that she remembered them by heart, as any good chatelaine should, but she had no skill in preparing even simple fare because such things had not ever been required of her. Reasoning she had already watched Aunt Royse and Maggie prepare potage, Emma strived to be confident as she valiantly set about cooking the meal. So she busied herself with the task, attempting to do just as she'd seen others do. However, while she clearly remembered every little thing which needed to be done, she understood she had not as yet grown truly adept at chopping and boiling and stirring, and she was slower and clumsier about it than she'd wished, especially at those times when Robin claimed her attention, coming into the kitchen and wanting her to see to him. Still, she did manage to do everything required of her, only to remember, belatedly, that she'd forgotten all about seasoning her potage. How could she have forgotten that? Emma berated herself for it as well as for being slow and clumsy. She did not tarry toattend to the forgotten seasonings, but Robin came again to ask for a drink of water, then he wanted to go outside and play and she attempted to keep an eye on him from her window. Then, she belatedly understood, she'd failed to oversee the bubbling potage, which had already started to smell almost burnt.
"So close," Emma muttered to herself in sheer relief that she had not, after all, burnt the meal.
She felt somewhat proud of herself for rescuing it at the last moment. True, the potage didn't look and didn't smell as Emma would have wanted it, but it was the first potage she'd made and she felt reasonably pleased with it. She hadn't burnt it after all. That it didn't taste as fine as it could have tasted mattered less. She resolved it could be eaten nevertheless, as neither Arthen nor Robin seemed to be fussy about their meals.
She laid the table when Arthen came home at night, and she heated and ladled the potage into their bowls, telling herself she should be proud she had been at last able to provide their evening meal. But just as she was thinking upon this in some satisfaction, Robin wrinkled his nose and pushed his bowl aside without even tasting it. Emma felt rather hurt the child didn't seem to think much of the first meal she'd prepared.
"Won't you eat a little?" she tried, dipping the spoon into his bowl and attempting to get him to eat.
Robin looked mutinous, and Emma glanced at his father, thinking Arthen might be better at persuading the child to eat. Yet Arthen had already tasted the potage and was now frowning upon her. Emma bristled and she pointedly dipped the spoon into her own bowl, then took it to her mouth. Fine—so it tasted worse than she'd thought at first. Valiantly, she made herself take a second spoonful of the meal. This time she found it tasted vile.
She set the spoon aside with a sigh, and perceived that Arthen was still glaring at her. It seemed unfair of him to glare at her when she had attempted to provide a meal.
“You’re looking at me as if the food I made is slop. As if I made it like that on purpose,” she told him, unable to hide her vexation.
Master Archer glanced at her coldly.
“You called it by its true name. I didn’t. Yet this is what it is. Slop."
“Slop! Mum’s feeding us slop!” Robin suddenly cried, seized by a fit of giggles.
Emma began to frown, but then she found herself unwittingly smirking because the child’s mirth was irresistible.
“Not you too, Robin,” she said in a mock plaintiff voice.
“Slop!” Robin called at her with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes, pushing his bowl even further away.
“Fine. Slop it is. Would you like some bread and milk instead?” Emma asked with a sigh.
Robin nodded vigorously, and Emma busied herself to feed the child, vowing she would get better at readying the meals. After all, it was her first attempt at cooking by herself and, while both her nurse and Lady Edith had schooled her on what she needed to know in order to oversee cooking, she had always had cooks and kitchen maids to do the cooking itself.
The child got sleepy soon after he had his meal, and Emma saw to getting him clean and ready for bed. In that, at least, she seemed able to cope with what was required of her in her new life. As for the rest, Emma had always envisaged herself to be a diligent woman. So she felt confident she'd learn in time all the ways of this different household – a far smaller one than that which she was accustomed with, yet one which did not rely upon servants' work. She knew herself to be patient and steadfast, so she reasoned she would succeed in learning to well handle all therequired tasks, in spite of the obvious mistrust and disapproval of the man in whose household she now resided.