Love Finds You in Prince Edward Island Read online

  “So you’re not afraid of drudgery?”

  “Oh no, ma’am. I can scrub and iron and wash dishes—whatever you need.”

  “Well...I’ll keep you on the list.” Mrs. Bolton made a notation on a piece of paper. “If you are hired, you’ll be informed on Monday. You’ll come in that afternoon to be measured for your uniform. You’ll provide your own dress and apron for regular work, and you’ll receive one dress, black stockings, a white apron, and a cap to wear while the royal visitors are in residence. You must supply your own shoes—black. You can keep the clothing after your period of employment ends.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very generous.”

  “Perhaps. You’ll be expected to arrive properly clothed and clean every morning.”

  “Assuredly.”

  Mrs. Bolton nodded. “Go on, then. If you don’t hear on Monday, you’re not hired.”

  “Thank you very much.” Molly stood and gave a little curtsy then strode toward the door. The footman grasped the knob on the other side, swung the door open for her, and then closed it.

  “All done, miss?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  He smiled at her. “Not so bad, was it?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “I’m Eustace. Milton is the other footman. He’ll be right along to take you down.”

  Molly eyed him cautiously. He wasn’t homely, but she suspected he fancied himself quite a figure in his uniform. Did he chitchat with all the applicants? She thought not. She looked down the hallway, toward the stairs. Milton and Mrs. Chiden rounded the corner of the passage.

  “I work here regular,” Eustace said.

  “I see.”

  “Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

  “Yes, perhaps.”

  Molly was glad when the others came close.

  “Go right in, ma’am,” Eustace told Mrs. Chiden.

  Molly smiled at her. “I wish you success.” She scooted after Milton toward the staircase, without looking back at Eustace.

  At the kitchen door, Milton swung open the panel and let her pass before saying, “Next.”

  Molly slid by the waiting women and squeezed through the laundry room door.

  Allison waited for her under a tree on the back lawn. She held out Molly’s coat when she saw her. “What kept you?” she asked, before falling into step with her friend.

  “I didn’t think anything did. But that footman upstairs—Eustace. Did he want to talk to you?”

  Allison curled her lip. “He asked me if my knees were shaking before I went in. Can you imagine?”

  “Cheeky, I’d call it.”

  Allison nodded. “He’s supposed to keep the line moving. Mrs. Bolton won’t stand for much shilly-shallying.”

  “I agree, and if he thinks he can flirt with all the new maids, he’ll get a surprise when he comes around us, won’t he?” Molly slipped on her coat and buttoned it, though it smelled of damp wool and hung heavy on her shoulders. The rain had stopped, but the wind still blew keenly off the sea.

  Allison laughed as they trudged down the muddy street. “You’re so sure they’ll take us on. But what did you think of your interview? Will she hire us?”

  “I don’t know. She did say that we’d know Monday, and if I was called I should come in for a dress and other clothing. Did she tell you that?”

  “Aye. But perhaps she told everyone.”

  “We’ll have to be patient. I thought you looked a bit upset when you came out of Mrs. Bolton’s room. What did she say to you?”

  Allison shrugged. “Just things like did I have any followers—you know, beaux.”

  Molly nodded. “She asked me that too.”

  “And she said I looked a mite scrawny. I suppose she was testing me.”

  Molly threaded her arm through Allison’s. “Well, I don’t think you look scrawny, though you are willowy-slender.”

  The friends walked away from the harbor and the crowded streets of Charlottetown. Their fathers’ farms lay about two miles from the official home of the colony’s lieutenant governor, George Dundas. The islanders usually referred to Dundas simply as “the governor,” though he served under Sir Edmund Head, the governor general of British North America and as Queen Victoria’s official vice-regent of the island.

  After the first half mile, the paved streets gave way to roads—normally hard-packed earth, but an oozy red mud today. They kept to the side as much as possible, walking in the grass at the edge of the road.

  “This mud will be the death of us,” Allison muttered.

  “It is a trial. But the sky is lighter ahead, and I believe it’s getting warmer too.” Molly unbuttoned her coat as she walked and looked out over the fields that already sprouted this year’s crop of potatoes in long, regimental rows. “I love this time of year, and Grandpa says it will dry up soon.”

  “Do you think we’ll get to see the prince if we’re hired?” Allison’s brown eyes had gone dreamy.

  “I don’t know. We’ll probably be kept below stairs and out of sight. I expect the more experienced servants will serve the prince and his retinue.”

  “You’re probably right.” Allison’s foot slipped, and she stumbled into the spongy roadbed. “Ach! This mud.”

  Molly smiled and grabbed her friend’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get home. I’m sure our mothers have plenty of chores for us to do.”

  “But if we did see the prince...”

  “Yes?”

  “They say there will be a fine ball at the Colonial Building.”

  Molly grimaced. “Servants won’t go to that, unless it’s to pass trays of food and take the ladies’ wraps. It will be for the legislators and their wives and the leading merchants—people like that.”

  “That’s so unfair.”

  “What’s fair?” Molly shook her head. “I don’t think many girls on this island will lay eyes on Prince Albert Edward. That’s only for the rich.”

  Chapter Three

  Monday, July 2

  Molly woke early and couldn’t go back to sleep. When she heard her grandfather call softly to the boys, she rose and dressed. She filled the coffeepot and set it on the stove. Grandpa and Nathan liked coffee after they finished the morning milking.

  As she worked, she tried to imagine herself in her own kitchen. She’d expected to be married by now—had even picked out her husband two years back. Emmet Price. He was reading law then, and her father considered him a fine prospect. Emmet had called on Molly every Friday evening for two months. He’d even spoken to her in general terms about the future. Though Molly wasn’t sure she loved him, she had begun to dream.

  All that had changed on the evening Emmet questioned her about her family. He’d heard a rumor in town—something about her grandfather being deported from England. It was true, Molly admitted.

  But why, he wanted to know. Emmet had pressed her on the issue until she told him everything. It wasn’t a secret, exactly, but they rarely spoke of the matter outside the family circle. But Emmet was to be part of the family, wasn’t he? Molly felt he had a right to know.

  “The man’s a felon,” Emmet had declared when she’d finished the tale. “A criminal in exile.”

  Molly had leapt up, flushed with anger. “How dare you! My grandfather is an honorable man!”

  That was the last time Emmet had come around. If they saw each other across the church or met on the street, they nodded coldly and then studiously avoided looking at each other. Just thinking about the night they’d had their falling-out still made Molly’s blood simmer.

  She tore about the kitchen trying not to think about Emmet or the fact that no other suitors had come a-courting since then. Had Emmet warned all the other young men that she was the granddaughter of a felon? Surely not. Any decent young man would see Grandpa Anson’s integrity and ignore the rumors.

  Molly blew a stray wisp of hair off her forehead and began to chop onions with a vengeance, as though her family’s well-being depended on her making the piece
s small enough. She had breakfast started—potatoes sliced and frying with the onions, and cornmeal mush bubbling on the stove—before her mother came into the kitchen.

  “How’s Papa?” Molly asked.

  “Fretful. That leg pains him so. I dosed him just now so he’ll rest a bit longer. Dr. Trann is due to come and look at him again today.”

  “That’s good. I’ll be anxious to hear if his bones have begun to knit together.”

  “I’m not sure the doctor can know that yet, but he should be able to see if anything’s going wrong. Your father hates the medicine. He wants to stay alert and know what’s happening around the farm.” Mum sighed and tied on her apron. “Can you help weed the garden today? Da and the boys have all they can manage with the milking and the hay.”

  “Yes, and Katie and I can churn if you’d like.”

  “We’ll see how things go. I may need your help with the washing later.”

  Nathan opened the back door and came in with a can of milk. “Smells good in here.”

  “You can eat any time you’re ready. Shall I put the eggs on?” Molly asked.

  “Aye. I’ll tell Grandpa and Joe.” Nathan left the milk on the work counter and went out the way he’d come in.

  Molly put the cast-iron skillet on the stove and plopped a generous blob of butter into it. She glanced out the window toward the road before she took the eggs from the icebox.

  “Looking for word from Government House this early?” Mum asked.

  “Silly, isn’t it? If someone does come, it will probably be in the afternoon. I’m sure there are many closer to town that they’ll go to first.”

  Mum smiled at her, weary before her day’s work had begun. “To be truthful, I don’t know how I’ll get on without you if you’re hired. But we’re dreadfully low on cash. Anything you bring in will be welcome.”

  “I know.” Molly went to her mother and gave her a quick hug.

  “Do you mind so very much?” Mum asked.

  “No. At least not yet.” Molly smiled. “Ask me again when I know what I’m getting into.”

  She cracked a dozen eggs into a bowl, stirred them, and poured them into the sizzling skillet. Grandpa and the boys came in, and she sat down to pray with the family while the eggs cooked.

  A half hour later, while she washed the breakfast dishes, Molly was surprised by a knock at the front door. She hurried to open it, thinking that perhaps Dr. Trann was making his rounds early.

  On the doorstep stood Eustace, the footman from Government House, in his green-and-gold uniform.

  “Good morning, Miss Orland.” His bright smile left her no doubt of his errand.

  “Good morning. May I help you?” She determined not to give him any encouragement in his notion that the maids would flirt with him.

  “I’ve come to you first, miss. You’re the farthest out, but I wanted to be sure you knew, and I was certain farm folk would be about early.”

  “You’re correct in that,” Molly said.

  He smiled even broader. “Well, then, you’ll come to Government House between one and three this afternoon for your kit, and they’ll tell you when you’ll begin work. Sound pretty good?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He winked at her. “Right. So I’ll be seeing more of you, Miss Orland.”

  “Molly! Molly!” Allison’s voice reached the kitchen at the Orland farm before she did.

  Molly threw down her dish towel. By the time she’d gotten to the back entrance, Allison had given a peremptory knock and flung the door open.

  “They’ve given me a job! That footman from Government House—Eustace—just came to our house and told me I was chosen. I’m to go in this afternoon for my outfit.”

  Molly smiled and drew Allison into a quick embrace. “Wonderful! He came here too, and I was going to stop in after lunch and tell you and see if you’d heard.”

  “We can go together.”

  “Yes, let’s,” Molly said. “Was Fanny Dalton hired?”

  “No. I saw her father on my way here, and he said she hadn’t heard a word. Since she lives closer to Charlottetown than you do and we’ve both heard, I expect she wasn’t picked.”

  “That’s too bad, though I believe he started with the farthest houses first. Perhaps we’ll see her after all.” Molly sent a swift prayer of thanks for the relief of having Allison accepted too. It would have been much scarier to begin service alone.

  That afternoon, a score of women arrived at the back entrance of the governor’s grand mansion. Molly and Allison went with the rest, in through the laundry as they had a few days earlier, to a large room beside the kitchen.

  “This is the servants’ hall,” Mrs. Bolton informed them.

  Molly looked down the long table and wondered if extra chairs had been added for the newly hired staff. She’d had no idea so many servants worked at the governor’s house.

  “You will eat your lunch here on the days that you work. Cook will provide your meal after the family and guests have been served upstairs. Most of the staff eats lunch about two o’clock. If you work into the evening to serve the late dinner upstairs, you’ll have tea at six.”

  The housekeeper called each new employee’s name and told her to report to either the first parlor maid or the cook the next morning.

  “Molly Orland.”

  Molly stepped forward.

  “You will work under Roberts, the first parlor maid.”

  Molly curtsied. When each woman had been assigned her duties, she went out to the laundry and received her clothing. The laundress looked Molly over and handed her a plain black cotton dress and apron, black stockings, a kerchief, and a white apron and cap.

  “You’ll wear the kerchief when you’re cleaning these next few weeks. If you serve or go where the family’s present, you’ll put on the cap. When the royal visitors are in residence, you will wear the white cap and apron. You are expected to look clean and fresh each morning.”

  Molly nodded. Allison came behind her and received the same wardrobe for the job. Allison had been told to report to the cook in the morning.

  As they headed for home, carrying their bundles of new clothing, Molly waited for Allison to speak. Her friend was quiet for a while, but after several minutes, she said, “Well, then, we shall start something new tomorrow.”

  “Indeed.” Molly eyed her cautiously. “Are you disappointed? That you’re assigned to the kitchen, I mean.”

  “Not really. I’m just delighted to have the job.” Allison gave her a weak smile. “Of course I’d rather be where you are, but in all honesty, if I hadn’t been hired, we’d have been in dire straits this summer.”

  “Us too, with Papa laid up.”

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s been hard since he broke his leg.”

  “Yes. I’ve been out there milking with Nathan and Grandpa every day. It’s just too much for the two of them. Mum will have to help them now. Joseph isn’t big enough to handle the cattle, but he’s learning. Everything is harder without Papa.” Tears filled Molly’s eyes, and she wished her friend hadn’t mentioned their families’ situations.

  “All this rain too,” Allison said. “It’s like to ruin the hay crop. Oh dear. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Molly shifted her bundle to her other arm and patted Allison’s shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. Things are hard now, but they’ll get better.” She smiled. “We both have work, and the prince is coming to the island.”

  “Just think. We’ll be washing the dishes he’s eaten from.” Allison’s eyes glistened. “I’ll find a way to see him. Somehow I will.”

  Saturday, August 4

  Peter rose at dawn and packed his luggage. He shaved carefully and dressed in the suit he’d reserved for traveling by boat. It wasn’t his best, but it was finer than any his family could have afforded. His master, Lord Washburn, provided well for him, and while traveling, Peter dressed better than he had in England when working at the Washburn estate. He now performed a valet
’s duties and often served the earl while the other aristocrats in the prince’s party were present, and so he had a trunkful of new clothes and dressed like a gentleman. Peter found that ironic.

  His visit to America was only beginning, though his journey had already lasted nearly a month. After crossing the Atlantic, they’d spent nearly two weeks cruising about Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick with the Prince of Wales. Today the prince would head off by railcar for Fredericton, New Brunswick, while Peter would sail in the opposite direction for Prince Edward Island.

  He looked out the window of his hotel room. Once again, it was raining. That shouldn’t matter, though the trip across the strait would have been more pleasant on a bright day. Lord Washburn had given him particular instructions. Be sure the people of the island know that the prince will arrive the ninth or the tenth, most likely the ninth. Make certain the ceremonies are appropriate. And if this incessant rain continues, make sure they’ve provided for the prince’s comfort and a way for him to stay dry.

  The rain had plagued them since their arrival in British North America, and several in the party were beginning to sniffle. So far the prince had avoided the nuisance and seemed to enjoy every moment of mixing with his public.

  Lord Washburn often complained in private—never before the prince or the Duke of Newcastle—that he was wrinkling up like a raisin and his stockings never truly dried out. Peter did his best each night to make sure His Lordship’s clothing was fully clean and dry—even if it meant sitting up half the night by a fire and holding the earl’s smallclothes in careful reach of the flames’ heat without scorching them. But it was all for naught. By midmorning, Lord Washburn’s feet had gotten wet again and his toes were puckering.

  When he had finished getting dressed, Peter went to the hotel’s dining room. He didn’t expect to see his master so early, as he knew for a fact that Washburn had stayed up to have a glass or two of brandy with the prince and the Duke of Newcastle the previous evening.

  The hotel’s owner met him at the entrance to the dining room. “Good morning, Mr. Stark.”

  Peter nodded.

  “I understand you are leaving us this morning. I hope you’ll enjoy your breakfast, sir.”