“When your cousin died, my lady, she was kind enough to leave me a bequest of forty shillings. With that I made my way up here. It was a dangerous journey—I had to be careful of my traveling companions and avoid soldiers.” There was no denying that point. Whether they were Royalist or Cavalier, too many of the men fighting our war were rogues at best and murderers at worst. She went on: “I did not know of the siege until I was nearly here. By then I hadn’t enough money to return. As I approached the city, I learned that the north was lightly patrolled. I slipped in on Monday, and found you yesterday.”
“Have you any money left?”
“No, my lady. I spent most of it on the journey, and the rest to buy these clothes. I wanted to present myself properly. The journey from Hereford reduced my skirts to rags. I still have them, though,” she added, indicating a small bag in the corner. “I’m not a spendthrift.” Good, I thought. After sauciness and thievery, there were few things I could abide less than a profligate servant.
“I will employ you for a fortnight. If you do well, I will keep you on at fifty shillings per year. You will sleep in the attic with Hannah.”
A look of relief spread across her face. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Hannah will show you to your room and get you a chest for your clothes. You will start after supper. She will set you to work.”
In the days that followed, Martha lived up to my cousin’s praise. She was as hardworking as any servant I’d had, following my instructions and Hannah’s without a moment’s hesitation. Hannah acquainted her with the household routine and introduced her to the city, showing her which grocers held back their finest goods for wealthy clients and which bakers sold the largest loaves. After a few days in service, I accompanied her to the market to see how she matched up against York’s grocers, who drove a notoriously hard bargain. After the apprentice measured out the grain that Martha had ordered, she spoke up.
“Why are you stopping?” she asked. The edge in her voice caught the youth unawares. He looked at her in complete confusion. “Are you trying to cozen me?” she demanded. It was less a question than a challenge.
“No, madam,” he said reflexively. Her status was no higher than his, but she demanded his respect and received it. “That is the amount you asked for.” To my eye it seemed a fair measure. I considered reining her in, but I was curious what her game might be.
“It certainly is not, you Scotch rogue!” Martha cried out. “Has your master ordered you to cheat your customers in this way? I find that hard to believe. Or are you cheating your master, too? That’s it! You intend to keep my money for yourself! Is he here? He’ll pull your ears off, I imagine.” She peered over his shoulder in search of his master and then turned to scan the street. “If he’s not here, I shall have to summon the constable.” By the look on the boy’s face, she had him completely fuddled.
“Wait,” he said. Looking around nervously, he added another scoop of grain to her bag. “There’s no need for that. For any of it. I just started with my master and I don’t need trouble.” He handed over the grain and looked imploringly into her eyes. Her performance was remarkable.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling warmly and then lowering her eyes briefly before looking up again. “I’m sorry if I seemed harsh. These are difficult times, and I would hate to disappoint my mistress.”
“It’s quite all right,” he said. I saw the blood rushing to his face, and his ears turned bright crimson. “Come back any time.” I think that by the time we left the shop, the poor boy would remember the look she gave him rather than the grain she took.
“The original measure seemed right to me,” I commented as we made our way back to my house.
She stopped and looked at me, her face the very soul of innocence. “Oh, no, my lady,” she said. “He was trying to give me a short measure. I’m quite sure of it.” She sounded genuine, but I thought I caught a mischievous glint in her eyes. I wondered if she had fooled the boy for her own amusement or because she knew I was watching.
“Well, whatever the case, you shall take over some of the shopping duties from Hannah.” I couldn’t openly countenance such behavior but had to admit I enjoyed the performance, and if food became scarce, her “negotiating” skills could come in useful.
As we stepped through the front door, Hannah met us carrying my valise and the case containing the parts of my birthing stool. “Martha, you’ll have to prepare supper for yourself,” Hannah said. “Lady Hodgson and I will be with Patience Askew.” She turned to me. “One of her gossips was just here. She said the child is coming soon. You must hurry.”