Read Once in a Blue Moon for Free Online
Authors: Penelope Williamson
have been living on the moon.
Jessalyn's sigh turned into a frown. She wondered what her grandmother would make of a man who had scars and calluses on his hands and swore worse than a costermonger. Who experimented with steam contraptions that blew up and took off all his clothes in front of her to go swimming in the sea. Who had looked at her and touched her—
"Have you fleas, gel?" Lady Letty snapped. "Tain't the done thing to squirm in one's chair like a hooked herring."
"That'd be the exposition what's got her nerves on edge, m'lady." Becka Poole, finished with her arrangement of the tea service in its proper order on the table, straightened with another melodramatic groan. "Look at me own hands. Shakin' they be, like a leaf in a gale."
Lady Letty smothered a snuff sneeze with her handkerchief. "Exposition? What sort of exposition?"
"The gret big sort, m'lady. It happened this afternoon whilst ee was gone up to Mousehole wi' the Sarn't Major. I was just sittin' down to a dish o' tea when, without a breath o' warning—crash! Boom! And the ground she be rumblin' like an old hag's chest when she snores. Gret big exposition it was. 'Tes a wonder I didn't fall away dead on the spot."
Jessalyn got up to poke at the fire, hiding her face from her grandmother's tin gray gaze. She was sure that with one look Lady Letty would see instantly all that had happened today. That she had lain on a man's body—never mind that it was an accident, done in all innocence... Watched that same man walk naked into and out of the sea. She had not kissed him, though... Dear life.
"Becka," Jessalyn said, more sharply than she'd intended, "could you cut up some seedcake, please, to take with our tea?"
"Ais, miss. Though how ee can eat so hearty after the scare us had this afternoon, I bain't the one t'say. Threw me off me feed, it did. I had to take some of Dr. Dooley's disgusting restorative, and even then I could only but manage a bite or two of the taties and some leg o' mutton."
Lady Letty watched, her mouth pursed, as Becka Poole sashayed from the room. "That gel! What, pray, is Dr. Dooley's disgusting restorative?"
Jessalyn let out a relieved breath, grateful at the change of subject. "Digestive restorative, Gram." She laughed suddenly. "Though as it's composed of bat dung, snail water, and ground wood lice, disgusting may be a more fitting appellation."
Jessalyn sat down across from her grandmother and poured the tea into a pair of unmatched cups. When times were especially bad, as they had been lately, they tried to make the leaves last three days, and this was the third day. The tea looked like dirty rainwater.
As Jessalyn handed the cup to her grandmother, the old lady's lips twisted into a grimace, which was her version of a smile, and patted Jessalyn's knee. "Don't fret yourself about the boots, gel. We'll scrounge up the ready for a new pair somehow. If worse comes to worst, I can sell one of my boxes."
"Oh, no, Gram, you mustn't!"
Lady Letty had a wonderful collection of eighty-nine snuffboxes, made of every material imaginable—from papier-mache to japanned copper to cut crystal. All had been acquired during the better times, given to her as gifts by the baronet to mark every race their horses had won or placed in.
"Don't you tell me what I must or mustn't do, gel." Lady Letty dusted a sprinkling of snuff off her bodice. "'Tis a waste when you're as old as I am to have more of a thing than you can use." She took a sip of tea and grimaced. "Bah! This tastes like something that came out of the back end of a cow. Pour me some port, if you will."
Jessalyn got up to pour the port from the decanter that sat on a nail-studded chest beside the window. She poured the thick wine slowly, careful, as she had been taught, not to make bubbles and thus disturb the flavor.
It had grown dark since Becka had brought in the tea. Using a spill of twisted paper, Jessalyn lit the tallow candles on the mantel. As she moved from one to the
Jessalyn's sigh turned into a frown. She wondered what her grandmother would make of a man who had scars and calluses on his hands and swore worse than a costermonger. Who experimented with steam contraptions that blew up and took off all his clothes in front of her to go swimming in the sea. Who had looked at her and touched her—
"Have you fleas, gel?" Lady Letty snapped. "Tain't the done thing to squirm in one's chair like a hooked herring."
"That'd be the exposition what's got her nerves on edge, m'lady." Becka Poole, finished with her arrangement of the tea service in its proper order on the table, straightened with another melodramatic groan. "Look at me own hands. Shakin' they be, like a leaf in a gale."
Lady Letty smothered a snuff sneeze with her handkerchief. "Exposition? What sort of exposition?"
"The gret big sort, m'lady. It happened this afternoon whilst ee was gone up to Mousehole wi' the Sarn't Major. I was just sittin' down to a dish o' tea when, without a breath o' warning—crash! Boom! And the ground she be rumblin' like an old hag's chest when she snores. Gret big exposition it was. 'Tes a wonder I didn't fall away dead on the spot."
Jessalyn got up to poke at the fire, hiding her face from her grandmother's tin gray gaze. She was sure that with one look Lady Letty would see instantly all that had happened today. That she had lain on a man's body—never mind that it was an accident, done in all innocence... Watched that same man walk naked into and out of the sea. She had not kissed him, though... Dear life.
"Becka," Jessalyn said, more sharply than she'd intended, "could you cut up some seedcake, please, to take with our tea?"
"Ais, miss. Though how ee can eat so hearty after the scare us had this afternoon, I bain't the one t'say. Threw me off me feed, it did. I had to take some of Dr. Dooley's disgusting restorative, and even then I could only but manage a bite or two of the taties and some leg o' mutton."
Lady Letty watched, her mouth pursed, as Becka Poole sashayed from the room. "That gel! What, pray, is Dr. Dooley's disgusting restorative?"
Jessalyn let out a relieved breath, grateful at the change of subject. "Digestive restorative, Gram." She laughed suddenly. "Though as it's composed of bat dung, snail water, and ground wood lice, disgusting may be a more fitting appellation."
Jessalyn sat down across from her grandmother and poured the tea into a pair of unmatched cups. When times were especially bad, as they had been lately, they tried to make the leaves last three days, and this was the third day. The tea looked like dirty rainwater.
As Jessalyn handed the cup to her grandmother, the old lady's lips twisted into a grimace, which was her version of a smile, and patted Jessalyn's knee. "Don't fret yourself about the boots, gel. We'll scrounge up the ready for a new pair somehow. If worse comes to worst, I can sell one of my boxes."
"Oh, no, Gram, you mustn't!"
Lady Letty had a wonderful collection of eighty-nine snuffboxes, made of every material imaginable—from papier-mache to japanned copper to cut crystal. All had been acquired during the better times, given to her as gifts by the baronet to mark every race their horses had won or placed in.
"Don't you tell me what I must or mustn't do, gel." Lady Letty dusted a sprinkling of snuff off her bodice. "'Tis a waste when you're as old as I am to have more of a thing than you can use." She took a sip of tea and grimaced. "Bah! This tastes like something that came out of the back end of a cow. Pour me some port, if you will."
Jessalyn got up to pour the port from the decanter that sat on a nail-studded chest beside the window. She poured the thick wine slowly, careful, as she had been taught, not to make bubbles and thus disturb the flavor.
It had grown dark since Becka had brought in the tea. Using a spill of twisted paper, Jessalyn lit the tallow candles on the mantel. As she moved from one to the