She had a decision to make, one that might get her into even worse trouble with her husband, but one that was worth considering for her own sake.
It was simply not her way to be idle. That only encouraged the kind of mood she found herself in. She needed to be occupied.
Of course, Amelia must surely be gratified to find herself placed above Rolfe’s wife in his household. But if Amelia knew the art of maintaining a household, she was surely keeping her knowledge to herself.
The problem was, no one at Crewel seemed to care about the conditions they lived in. For Rolfe to sacrifice his own comfort in order to honor his mistress showed great depth of feeling. Leonie could do nothing about Rolfe’s feelings, but she would not live in a pigsty or be mistress of one.
If she was to order certain tasks done, who was to deny her? Rolfe might, when he returned, but by then she would have accomplished much and the improvements might assuage his wrath. Would Lady Amelia dare complain? Leonie was willing to risk an argument with that one.
The decision made, she went to find Wilda and Mary. She found the stairs that led to the servants’ quarters above the first floor. At the top of those stairs she found, not one large room, but a narrow hall. The servants’ quarters were on the left side, and there were many small rooms on the right side of the hall.
Wilda came when Leonie called her name softly. “My lady.”
Leonie’s curiosity was aroused. “Are stores kept up here?” she asked, looking at the row of rooms.
Wilda understood and shook her head. “My lady, I never heard of such as this. It was Sir Edmond’s idea to offer his guests privacy, so he ordered those small chambers built, each with a bed and other conveniences.”
“Each one of these is a small bedchamber?”
Wilda nodded. “Mildred said Crewel was never without guests. Sir Edmond liked to impress his guests.”
Leonie was not surprised that the maid knew so much. Servants gossiped. “Private chambers instead of a pallet in the hall is impressive indeed. I did not realize the Montignys were so wealthy.”
Wilda frowned. “There are rumors—”
“For shame, Wilda. You know I do not countenance rumors,” Leonie said automatically, and because Wilda knew her lady disliked gossip, she fell silent. It was just as well, for Wilda did not want to be the one to tell her lady about the rumors concerning her and her husband.
It suited Wilda to have the servants at Crewel think Rolfe d’Ambert had beaten his wife on their wedding night. She disliked him because of the insult he was dealing Leonie by keeping his mistress in their home. Wilda had no desire to correct the women servants’ opinions, or to argue with the men who took their lord’s side. She was going to stay well out of the battle and had warned Mary to do the same. Rolfe d’Ambert was not a man to be patient with servants.
She said only, “Well, Sir Edmond did serve the best foods and wines.”
“He must have had a different cook,” Leonie said dryly and Wilda giggled.
“Indeed, I understand the cook fled with the coming of the new lord. The one who rules the kitchen now was enlisted from the stable.”
Leonie was appalled. “Surely there must be some assistants of the old cook who are still here?”
“Yes. They could improve the fare, but they will not.” Wilda lowered her voice. “There was much resentment here against your husband, and there still is.”
“Was Sir Edmond loved?”
“No. He had a heavy hand. But with him there were no surprises and the servants always benefited from the abundance of food left over from his entertaining. But Sir Rolfe is here so little that they have not had any chance to know him, so they don’t trust him. And his temper frightens everyone. No one is willing to draw his master’s attention to himself.”
Leonie nodded. She had half guessed as much. She glanced once more at the row of closed doors. “Are these rooms all empty?”
Wilda knew her lady well. “She sleeps in the large room that was Sir Alain’s,” she whispered.
“But where does Sir Evarard—”
“That one is a soldier through and through. He sleeps with the men-at-arms. Mildred says he would be happiest rolled in a blanket under the stars.”
“And how would Mildred know that?”
Wilda grinned. “One thing Sir Evarard does not dislike about his being settled instead of marching from one campaign to the next is the women here. He is a handsome young man, my lady.”
Leonie controlled an urge to grin. “And you are thinking of trying him out yourself?”
Before Leonie’s marriage, Wilda would never have admitted such a thing, but now she answered loftily, “I have thought of it.”
Leonie shook her head. How could she scold Wilda for wanting pleasure? It never did any good to point out the sinfulness in a union without marriage.
“In the next few days,” Leonie said, changing the subject, “you will have little time to think of such things. You wanted a chance to put the Crewel servants to work, and now you will have it.”
Wilda was delighted. “You have his permission then? We may begin—”
“Not his permission, but we will begin anyway.”
“But—”
Leonie cut her short. “I cannot live like this. And he is not here to stop me.”
“Are you sure, my lady?”
“Most sure.”
Amelia was shocked when every woman servant in the keep descended on the hall with brooms and soap and water. She pulled Leonie aside.
“Rolfe will not like it.”
Leonie smiled tightly. “Then you must put the blame on me, for this place offends me and I will not stay here another day under these conditions. Of course, if my husband is pleased, then you must take the credit yourself. I am sure you intended to clean the house, but have been unable to find the time.”
The sarcasm was heavy, yet it went right over Amelia’s head. “To do anything here, you must constantly supervise. The serfs are too simple to carry a task through on their own. Do you not think I have tried?”
Leonie kept her doubts to herself. It was an effort just to talk to this woman.
“I have my own methods of doing things.”
“If Rolfe is satisfied…” Amelia grumbled.
“But I am not satisfied, Lady Amelia. I am not asking you to volunteer your help, however.”
She would not ask for permission either. See if the woman dared overrule her.
Amelia was wise enough to back down. She had gained too much to risk a confrontation with Rolfe’s wife over such a trifling matter as this.
“Suit yourself, my lady,” Amelia said before moving away.
Leonie nodded to Wilda, whose eyes twinkled as she began shouting orders to the women gathered around her. And so it began. There was some grumbling once the task was explained, but Wilda’s sharp tongue quickly took care of complaints.
Leonie would have pitched in to help, as she had always done at Pershwick, but to do that here would lower her position. As it was, too many of the servants looked first to Lady Amelia for approval.
With Wilda in firm control in the hall, Leonie gathered some men servants and directed them to follow her outside. She sent four men to gather new rushes, and another to summon Sir Evarard. Then she took three men to the kitchen.
The staff were instantly resentful of her presence, having gone so long without any interference. Besides the cook, a lean man of middle age, there were five male assistants and three children, who were allotted the easiest tasks. Little Idelle was one, and Leonie had to stop herself from smiling at the girl until after she dealt with the rest of the staff.
The condition of the long shed that served as the kitchen was appalling. Smoke and grease were so thick on everything that it was a wonder the building hadn’t burned down. The pantry, larder, and buttery were in no better condition.
She took no pity on the cook, for he was solely responsible. “You may return to the stable where your talents will be better used,” she told him, daring him by the severity of her expression to object.
He seemed relieved. After he left, she ordered the three men with her to begin removing everything from the kitchen. The five male assistants and Idelle were told to follow Leonie to the garden. There she looked at each man in turn, judging their attitudes and knowing that if her plan didn’t work, she would end up being the cook herself.
She turned her attention to the little girl and allowed herself to drop her severe manner for a moment. “Idelle, do you remember the ‘good-for-naughts’ you were picking from the garden?”
Idelle’s eyes widened. “I did not pick them again, my lady, I swear.”
“I know, but now I want you to pick them again, every one of them.”
“But there is so much!”
“Exactly. And since they serve no purpose, they do not belong in the garden. Do you see?”
Idelle saw only that it would take forever to do what her lady was asking, yet she wanted desperately to please Leonie. “I will do it.”
Leonie grinned at the forlorn face. “I did not mean you should pick them yourself. No, these men here will do the picking, roots and all—especially the roots. You will stand by to watch and see they do not miss any, and to see that they do not rest until the task is done.”
“You mean they must do as I say?” Idelle gasped.