The Purpose of Miss Shepley

Chapter Six (part I)

Whether correcting dogs, children, or wives, one must never give in to the temptation of anger. Discipline must be dealt swiftly, decisively, and, above all, dispassionately.

(excerpt, On Discipline, Richard Stonewell)

.:.

I wasn't able to get away on my own again for a long time. I saw Bram only occasionally, on the way between this and that. He kept me apprised of goings-on in single sentences -- Roberts smoked for the fly. I've got room for two rams at Harvesttide. Darlene's lookin' well. And once he said, "Moon and Stars, Edie. You really are busy."

I gave him a sad nod, and we each went along on our separate ways.

But my hours did grow quieter, eventually. I spent a few days curled up in my room, indisposed, which was a boon to my affairs, even if I did have to pay for the time with wretchedness and cramping. And on the first of Midsummer, the Ansleys and the Blackwells made their farewells and returned homeward. This left me with only three suitors -- one of whom paid more of his attentions to Temperance Grimmond, and another who paid no particular attentions to anyone, at all -- and greatly eased the demands on my time.

Soon enough, I'd caught up with everything that had sat neglected since my birthday: I chose my two most docile rams to show at market; I finally finished a blanket for Darlene's little babe, and started in on caps and buntings, with Mrs. Fowler's guidance -- she had reared six sons, herself, and she was a midwife, besides, so I reckoned she was probably Ewert Town's authority on the sizes of newborns; and I sorted through my rabbits' bury of letters, making arrangements to visit a dozen families in a dozen towns, none of which I'd ever seen before.

The prospect of travel was a delightful one -- visiting so many different towns, at least; I had some qualms about visiting so many different families. I had never left Ewert Town in my memory, not even for a jaunt over to Riverton, which was scarcely more than a day's walk to the east. I was probably the only person above five years old who had never been, not even once, not even for the Harvesttide Market. This made me unworldly even by the standards of little Ewert Town, and I felt it keenly.

With the help of Mrs. Acton and Mr. Wentworth, I drew up an itinerary listing all my destinations and the little towns and villages I would stay in along the way. Mr. Wentworth held strong opinions on which inns and ale houses were best and which were best avoided, and Mrs. Acton knew about all sorts of shops and other interesting things I might try to see.

I enjoyed these hours with them, even when I was just idly listening to them trade their traveller's tales -- indeed, more and more, I found I enjoyed the idle hours with all our guests, now that there were fewer of them.

I spent many evenings hip to hip with Miss Goodwin by the fire, my knitting forgotten in my hands, just listening to Mr. Wentworth read. He had a beautiful voice, rich and deep, and with the subtlest changes of breath and pace and pitch, he could become the fiercest warrior, the sternest teacher, the tenderest lover... And then, when the tale was told, and the words and visions lingered in the air round us, he would close the book with a clap, abruptly waking us from the dream. Miss Goodwin was always the first to say, "Oh, very well done, Sir."

I also spent an evening hunched over Bram's gift, translating the Great Queen's tract into the Common Tongue while Earnest peered over my shoulder. He could not read runes and had no skill with the Old Tongue, nor did he seem knowledgeable or even particularly interested in either Baelswintha or her doctrines, but still, he watched me work, basting me in praise.

"On my honor," he said, more than once, "I don't know how you can make heads or tails of all that."

I'd noted the glint in Miss Goodwin's eyes, the faint curl of her lip. Within an hour, she had him writing, Earnest Grimmond, Count of Oakhurst in runes.