Making his list and checking it seven times twice

[belowcastle.livejournal.com]

Pryce has systematically been conducting inventory of the linens, china, crystal and silver since he was promoted from First Footman to Butler. He began with the linens, white damask, crisply starched, followed by the china (12 patterns), moved on to the crystal (Waterford, naturally) and today at last finally sits down with the silver. The strains of Mozart's Symphony #40 drift through the air thanks to the record player perched atop the upper cabinets. He's made the count, separated serving and eating utensils, lined them up by length (longest first) on the old farmer's table in the kitchens, has a goodly supply of silver polish and soft clean rags at hand and finally has donned white cotton gloves to begin his work in earnest.

No fires to put out. No last-minute surprises. No one to bother him, just the butler and his routines.

[Tag for Gideon, please?]

Comments

[belowcastle.livejournal.com]

"I'm certain Cook can be talked into preparing one," he replies with the barest of smiles. He'd need to admonish Tricia not to prepare a seven course picnic luncheon once she learned it was for Eileen.

"Do you think you'll be ready to go before dawn?" Because that's when the wildlife would be slinking home or beginning their day.

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

Perfect. That would make a day of it.

And her eyes absolutely light up at the thought of leaving very first thing in the morning, spine straightening even further as she holds out her hands to him before touching any of the polishing. "Absolutely. That'd be the best time to observe, wasn't it?"

[belowcastle.livejournal.com]

He examines her hands and nods approval. "Certainly it is for diurnal fauna," he agrees and hands her a clean cloth. She can start at the other end. "I doubt the Qu--your lady mother would care for you to stay out all night hoping to catch nocturnal ones. With luck we may see some returning to their dens for the day."

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

"Probably." She can't help the heavy sigh. Mothers. They could be so lovingly protective.

It got in the way of Science all the time.

The cloth is accepted so she can move to stand by the table. It's not the first time she's helped with this, but she'll still wait to be directed where to start, still spend a moment watching him work before falling to. "Maybe if I promise to wear new boots she'll fuss less."

[belowcastle.livejournal.com]

One side of his lips curve up in a lopsided smile. "Better to wear your old pair of Wellies. You're feet will keep warm and you won't ruin anything nice traipsing through the muck."

Because there'd be dirt and grime and damp and all the things Young Ladies of Caliber seldom are allowed. Then again, he imagines that's the point of any such excursion. Somehow, he never minded dirt and grime outside, where it belonged.

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

"I'm certain you're right." And certain that her mother was going to allow this to happen one way or another. There's determination setting in her brow now that looks like a dead-ringer for her father.

She'll see him first thing in the morning on his day off. No question about it.