Thread: The Only Rules That Matter:  Afterlife (TheCorsair, Madam Mim)

Perhaps we can pose as a couple from the City, Jenny suggested, smoothing down the fabric of her skirt. Her dress was simple but not homespun, neither fashionable nor old-fashioned. Practical was how she'd always liked her clothes, and they always seemed to have enough money on hand to keep up with the local fashions for the time. It was incredible to her how quickly one had to buy new clothes after a lifetime of patching and re-patching the same two dresses. You know, get away to the country for some fresh air. Local color. Things like that. Then we say we've heard there's been some mischief with the fae and I'm sure they'll be keen to tell us city folk all about it. Once she'd finished pinning up her hair and had selected an appropriate hat Jenny took her husband's arm and strolled down the gangplank to the bank of the river. She raised her eyebrow and remarked, handy at the Pearl 's outward appearance. They hadn't gotten on at first, Jenny and the Pearl , as each blamed the other for taking away her man. But finally they seemed to be starting to understand one another. The little boat bumped against the dock as though in reply before they turned to walk toward the town. They hadn't gone very far, however, when a harried-looking man met them. Mister Crane, I presume, he said, shaking John's hand distractedly before mopping his forehead with a handkerchief. I'd heard there was a strange boat at the dock. We weren't expecting you for weeks, you know, but you've come just in time. It's madness in the schoolhouse! He shook his head in disbelief before motioning for them to follow. This way then. Once your master's got his position, young lady, I'll show you where to take his things. Jenny exchanged a look with her husband behind the man's back. She'd carried a suitcase ashore as a prop to lend credence to the idea that they were tourists out for a country holiday, but apparently she'd been mistaken for his servant. Still, if they could take this Crane's place for a while they might be able to find out what was going on without arousing suspicion from the residents of the sleepy little town. If Jenny had to play the servant instead of the wife then so be it. On their way to the schoolhouse they learned that Mr. Crane May I call you Ichabod? was to be the new schoolmaster after the old one had died and had been given lodgings in the valley on the other side of the hill. Well this was convenient indeed, and if they had to pose as Protestants for a few weeks she was sure God would understand. The man's name was Nicholas Hardwick and though he was usually the magistrate the township's first citizen--one Mister Baltus Van Tassel--had sent him rushing to meet the new schoolmaster as soon as they'd heard he arrived and they'd been planning a more welcoming reception and he was so sorry but wouldn't Mister Crane be so kind as to join Mister Van Tassel and his family at supper this evening? When they arrived at the schoolhouse they could hear the ruckus before the saw it. Upon opening the door they saw a frail-looking, whey-faced old man attempting to teach some students their letters and other students their arithmetic simultaneously. The students, however, were uproarious shouting, throwing things, fighting, a pair of girls were even pulling at each others' braids. When the old man noticed the door open he gave them a look pleading for help before rushing over to them and shaking John's hand exuberantly. Oh thank you Mister Crane, thank you! And God bless you! he cried before all but flying out the door. The other three looked after him then back to the task at hand. Well, I think I should leave you to it then, Hardwick said blithely, and show your girl where to put your things. Jenny bristled but didn't say anything to being called girl. Years in the tavern had taught her to ignore the disregard of little men. I've faith in you Mister Crane, she said with a bright smile. Not like you haven't got experience disciplining naughty children before, eh? She was trying to remind him, discreetly, that he'd raised five beautiful children and so these children shouldn't frighten him in the least. And with all of his traveling around the world it wasn't like he had nothing he could teach them. With that she followed Hardwick over the hill, past the church, and down into the next valley where stood one lonely farm and, a mile or two beyond that, one lonely little cottage. They were apparently to have the lonely little cottage. Mister Crane didn't say he would be bringing a servant with him, Hardwick mentioned as they passed the farm, and so I'm afraid we've furnished him with a cottage with only one room. Usually it wouldn't be a problem, but to have a servant woman with him... Oh not to worry, Magistrate, Jenny assured him cheerfully, playing the chipper dolt. She'd noticed he hadn't even asked her name. Grew up together, Mister Crane and me, like brother and sister. I won't think nothin' of stayin' on the floor. You don't worry it will cause a scandal to your master? Hardwick raised an eyebrow, but Jenny waved him off. He'd never touch me, sir. And even if folk's tongues started to wag, God knows the truth of it. She put a finger to the side of her nose and nodded. Hardwick's eyebrow didn't lower but he nodded. Very well, he acquiesced, so long as you both realize it to be at your own risk. We're a good Christian town, Miss, and we don't tolerate people living in sin. Especially not the man who's supposed to be educating our children. Grew up with him, you say? Jenny nodded. Forgive me, but you appear to have quite a different accent than Mister Crane. Well, your home don't never really leave you, do it? she chirruped. Left Ireland when I was a girl, m'family did, but never really did get rid of the accent. Happens, y'know, when ya don't hardly talk to no one but your own people. I see. The cottage was dark and cold. It was one room with one small bed and one small table which played host to two chairs and an oil lamp. In one corner was a wood stove and in the other a wash basin and a chamber pot, but it was otherwise unfurnished. Once Hardwick had left Jenny lit the oil lamp and got the stove going to cut the chill of the early Northern fall, but found that there was hardly any wood to keep it going and no pots or pans or anything at all to cook with. The quilt was threadbare and the pillow flattened by previous tenants. With a harumph Jenny got to work. She would have to fix the quilt--or make a new one--when there was a bit of leisure time. For now, she made her way back over the hill to the Pearl and back again, carrying cooking supplies in their one suitcase. The farmer with whom they shared the valley was kind enough to lend her an ax to chop wood into logs from a large tree trunk which appeared to have fallen in a storm and been dragged to the cottage some time this past summer. Sweating and aching but no stranger to this sort of hard work, Jenny fished through the pantry to find ingredients enough to make lard biscuits, which she aspired to have done by the time her husband returned.