Sunday, it seems, is the only day I have any time or energy to write in this journal. Not a lot has happened in the six weeks I’ve been working – I am able to work more quickly, and can usually get done by 7. Mr. Markam saw me looking at a day-old newspaper in the kitchen and asked me some questions, like was I interested in the news, and did I do a lot of reading when I wasn’t working? He told me I could borrow any of the books I saw in his study, but I know what would happen if Madam or Mrs. Andrews found out! So right now I just keep the old newspapers and read them when I get a chance, usually at home. They fold up nicely and fit into my jacket pocket, and nobody cares about old newspapers, they’re just glad to get them out of the house. My Ma is happy to have some extra paper to wrap vegetables in when she stores them. She says things keep better that way.
Fiona turns 19 at the end of this month, and Madam is planning a grandish dinner party. I think she is hoping some of the eligible bachelors will take an interest and more than that, she is hoping someone will start walking out with Fiona. Most girls of her standing are engaged or married by now. She spends most of her time preparing her trousseau, so she must have some hopes. A seamstress comes in two or three days a week to work on some gowns for the two women. Right now she is sewing a very fancy dress for Fiona to wear to the dinner party.
This is to be the menu:
Two kinds of soup, one tureen at the head, one at the foot
One large dressed salmon
One large dish of curry
One large platter beef, one large platter turkey
One large dish macaroni and cheese
Pink raspberry cream and wine jelly for sweets
Champagne, four different kinds of wine, four jugs brown ale
Brandy served to the men at the table, tea served to ladies in the drawing room when they leave the men to their brandy.
Mr. Markam is hiring some extra help for the party, from the town. Mrs. Andrews told me to bring an overnight bag, since it will be too late for me to walk home. I am to sleep on a cot in the scullery that night, after all the washing up is done. I will be allowed to help bring in all the food, but most of my work will be in the scullery, washing up. I will be a sight after washing so many greasy dishes and pots, but at least I will get a glimpse of the ladies and gentlemen in their finery.
All is well at home. The garden is all coming up, so we should have fresh vegetables before long. The sow produced ten little piglets a few weeks ago, and they make for a noisy little party when I feed them. One of Ma’s hens has been producing brown eggs with double yolks. The cow’s little calf died. It was pitiful to see her try to nudge him to get up, all the while making a sort of loud bellowing noise. Finally Da hitched up the donkey cart and had Henry help him load the dead calf on. They buried the poor wee thing at the far end of the field. The cow finally let us milk her, and she seemed to settle after that. It reminded me of the time Ma had a baby that was born too soon, and died almost right away. She was so sad for a few days, but once she got back into her usual routine she seemed like her old self again. I didn’t see Ma smile for a long time after that, and one day the cradle was stored under the bed. She said there would never be a little baby to fuss over in our croft again.
My Da is away at the Ross farm for a few days. They are needing extra help to repair the barn and outbuildings, and that is the kind of masonry he can still do. That’s how we get by, with him taking jobs here and there. Usually he works on the docks, helping to unload the herring and get them ready for the market. With his bad leg he can’t work on the boats.
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