Ward of the White Worm

In Saint-Grey-on-the-Ceald, which was not actually on the Ceald Lake at all but the tiny bay called Ceald Bay (and few ever bothered to really make that distinction), on a wide pretty street stood a large house that its neighboring domiciles seemed to lean against their neighbors to avoid being crushed by it.

Just on its face, it proudly boasted no less than three windows on its ground floor, another three on the floor above, and two on the final floor above. The building itself was brick, like its neighbors, but even here it distinguished itself with a ruddy tint to the grey bricks in contrast to the more paler tones of its companions.

The house, called Cherryhouse, belonged to the Greenes, a moderately prosperous gentry family who proudly boasted forty five acres of land in Paeth, and three hundred fifty seven agricultural acres in Graeffeld. Formerly the forty five acres in Paeth had been used for the yearly Shepherd Fair, where the Atterdown sheep were brought from their long circuitous treks further north to be bought and either sheared and slaughtered in Paeth or shipped further down the Murmur River. Any shepherd had to pay a fee to display their sheep, and any buyer had to pay another fee to do business. After the discovery of coal, the long late Henry Greene had built cramped housing and a few businesses on the acres to accommodate Paeth’s population growth, somehow managing to fit twelve families in houses meant only for three and escaping an ancient law in Paeth about butcher shops by also having a pub located within the very same building. When built, Henry was asked if he would also build a water pump as well, but the man wisely said that he was certain the people moving in had feet and could very well make the walk across town to the nearest water pump without issue.

The Greene family therefore had a comfortable living assured through their tenants, both the many in Paeth and the few in Graeffeld. The family itself, besides the deceased Henry, consisted of the eldest brother Harold Greene and his wife Elizabeth and their two grown and moved away sons George and Charles, the younger brother Matthew Greene and his wife nobody ever quite remembered the name of, and the deceased Sarah Marsh (nee Greene) with her equally dead husband Roger and their daughter who spent her time in the houses of others teaching small children. Harold had inherited the Cherryhouse, the properties, and its tenants, while Matthew had inherited a sum of two thousand pounds and did the odd thing of moving south to become a man who did work. Sarah had married a fellow member of the gentry in Roger Marsh but the dead could not be said to do much of anything besides haunt memories and hearts if they had not been chosen to go on Pilgrimage.

Elizabeth, or Beth to Harold, had been impatiently counting down the days until the Earl of Brynebourne’s visit. While being invited for Saint Clara’s was certainly an event of distinguishment for her, she knew that her neighbors witnessing an actual aristocrat coming to her (and she thought of it as hers) house was something even more grand. She was imagining what Mrs Lowhill or Mrs Flatte were thinking, knowing that she was having the Earl of Brynebourne visiting her personally.

In church she had been imagining the sour looks on Lowhill and Flatte’s faces as she sat with her back straight in the Greene family pew.

While selecting new scullery maids she had turned over their barely restrained bitterness from the last whist game in her mind.

As she did her chore of visiting Graeffeld to give out baskets of sewing supplies to families with newborn girls or bringing the newest religious paper from the Archbishop of Takesea she barely restrained a little giggle when Flatte was mentioned to have come the week prior to give out fish paste.

She had taken pains to decide what meal would serve best to demonstrate the Greene’s gentry sensibilities, not offend an aristocrat’s likely expensive sense of taste, and (through the servants gossip) remind others of the Greene’s position as a well-to-do and respectable family which rubbed shoulders with the titled.

After much consideration she had settled on a vegetable-marrow stew, a heft cut of roast Redbeer beef with a mint sauce and boiled potatoes with ceald salt, a large loaf of white bread and a pot of garlic butter, ending with a raspberry pudding along with a coffee cake recipe she had been assured was very popular at Court.

Harold has been in charge of selecting the beverages, staying quite out of everyone’s way.

Mrs Greene now paced the hallway with her eyes glancing over to the grandfather clock that stood guard at the end of it. The appointed time was soon arriving. She strained her ears to hear a hint of a carriage and every time she caught even the slightest hint she would open the door to gaze out expectantly upon the road only to see a passing donkey cart or a hackney coach rattling by.

She glanced down at the steps leading to her door. They were white, having been scrubbed and washed three days earlier, She squinted at them, then glanced at her neighbor’s steps.

“Jane!” She called back into the house.

A short ruddy faced girl appeared in the hall, walking quickly over to Mrs Greene, “yes madam?” She asked, eyes kept firmly on the ground.

“Jane, look at the steps.”

The maid turned her head to the steps.

“Do you see anything amiss?”

“No madam.”

“Look at our neighbors’ steps, dear, they are much whiter than ours! If the Earl comes and sees them, he may believe we poorly keep our house. Scrub it whiter,” Mrs Greene instructed.

Jane seemed to shrivel a little, but dutifully bowed her head. “Yes madam.”

Mrs Greene turned away from the door to go down the hall, pausing at a small table which contained an elegant silver tray on it. It has a small list of calling cards on it. One from Lowhills, one from the Flattes, a card from the curate Mister Moores and his wife Mrs Moores, another from the Hopper family in Stowell whom Mrs Greene felt were a little above their station but friendly enough.

She was planning on entering the parlor to sit for a moment and allow her nerves to rebundle themselves when her husband huffed into the hall, holding a letter in his hand. “Dear!” He exclaimed excitedly. “I have just received a letter from dear Henrietta!”

“Oh, how charming,” Mrs. Greene replied, not charmed at all.

“Listen,” he held the letter and looked down at it as he spoke. “She said ‘Dear Uncle Harold and Mrs Greene, as I write this I will be helping Miss Forester prepare for her trip to the Saint Anne Lady’s School, thereby saying goodbye to my last ward of the Forester family. I-’”

“My dear is it necessary to read the entire letter to me? I have two very good eyes of my own, I assure you,” Mrs. Greene said, taking her husband’s hand to pull him into the parlor room with her. They sat down on two separate seats across from each other.

“My Beth, I’ve hardly reached the best part! She says she will be coming a sennight from now.” Mister Greene was elated with the thought his beloved niece was soon to be upon them. “We shall fix up the guest room, and I must send someone to buy a new writing desk for her. The other one you gave to George was in terrible shape when he returned it and I do not trust it not to collapse or splinter.”

“That is very nice dear, but we have our guest to think about today! He could be arriving any moment,” Mrs. Greene said evenly. “We must do our very best to ensure he has a very enjoyable night.”

“Oh yes, of course of course,” her husband nodded. “We are doing our best, indeed! Why, I have spent a good three pounds on some fine red wines and a good satchel of tea.”

“Only three pounds, dear?”

“Yes, the seas have been rough lately, and so have tariffs increased. I must balance quality with the quantity of my money,” he sighed while forlornly glancing at the letter. Then his face brightened. “Dear! I have an idea!”

“Oh dear.”

“Why not ask the Earl to take Henrietta as a governess to his waif?” Mister Greene suggested. “I am certain he would not turn such down! Henrietta is such an accomplished young lady in all the female arts, and she has certainly shown herself above most other young ladies in her grasp of stronger subjects such as astronomy, classics, and the higher mathematics!”

If she was so wonderful in the female arts, Mrs Greene was certain the pretentious orphan would have found herself a husband. Yet as she thought, she found the idea did have its merits. It would ensure Henrietta’s stay at her house was brief, and it would give them a very valid reason to visit House Graef. With the proper letter sent first, of course, she reminded herself. But why would the Earl ever refuse a governess the right to see her uncle and aunt?

“Madam,” Jane’s voice came. “Sir. A carriage has arrived! With footmen”

Mrs Greene hopped to her feet, clapping her hands together. “Wonderful! Now everyone, get to your places!” She called out. “We must welcome our guests properly!”