Chapter One, Episode 74 - Domestic Life - Situationally Theirs

Hatley Castle, Victoria, BC

Review, Edit and Update:

I learned something new today: the name of the accountant: Mr. Gerald Winston. It had been nestled in this little scene since writing this on June 6th. His name has been added to my ever-growing list of details for this story. 

Most of my editing has been to flesh out, once more, the scenes around the dialogue. There were times when even I, who had written this story, didn't know who was really speaking. For that I apologize to all of my readers.
Other than that, only one or two typos that were fixed.

Domestic Life

“What did I just hear,….‘leave James at home and go exploring ourselves’?” James Edward Digby, butler of the Beaufort Estate called out from the mudroom. Martha Haverstock, housekeeper for the Estate and Elizabeth, cook for the Estate had not even heard his car drive up or the back door open. 

“My goodness James, where did you come from?! You surprised us. I just about dropped my teacup.” Martha smiled fondly at James. “I’d never leave you at home. That was just Elizabeth talking. I didn’t agree to it and anyway, such a trip is impossible with the state of affairs these days.”

“Tea, James? Have you got time? There’s a fresh cake waiting to be cut. It’s cooled enough that we can all have a bite. I’ll just get some raspberries out of the fridge. Would you get out some plates, forks and the cake knife while you’re up, James? Martha, you’re……..you already have the napkins out. ” Cook set the fresh vanilla cake on the table. She went back to the refrigerator for the raspberries, returning with the tart-sweet red fruit. 

“I do have time, Elizabeth. I’m expecting Miss Emelina shortly, but tea and cake would hit the spot." James took his briefcase into his office and returned to the table. "Raspberries would make it all that much better. Now. What were the two of you talking about?” 

Martha separated out the plates. Cook put a generous piece of cake on each plate. James accepted his and spooned raspberries on the cake, drizzling a bit of the juice over it all. “Elizabeth asked me where I would like to go and I said either a castle in Scotland or the Biltmore House in North Carolina. To maybe stay in a castle and see what Downstairs was like in the 1800’s.”

Swallowing a bite of cake and raspberries, James posed a question “Have either of you ever been to Craigdarroch Castle? Do you even know where it is?" He paused long enough for another bite of cake. "This cake is delicious, Elizabeth! I hope you didn’t make it for anything special, because I think I’ll just have a second piece.”

“Craigdarroch Castle? Where is it?” Elizabeth looked puzzled.

Martha poured more tea for each of them “I had forgotten all about that castle, James. Joanie took the children there last summer when they went down to Victoria." Joanie, Martha's daughter had given Martha two grandchildren: five year old Abby and nine year old Ben. Martha smiled, remembering the flood of stories from the children after their visit 'to the real castle Grandma!'. "Do you think it would be open to the public yet? And there’s another castle in Victoria - Hatley Castle. Do you suppose the three of us could take a day trip down there one day…that’s if they’re open to the public?”

Digby pushed his raspberry stained plate away, placing his fork neatly across the household china. “You’re right, Martha. If I’m not mistaken they were both built in 1890 by a man by the name of James Dunsmuir. There’s quite bit of history on this island. Travel being what it is these days, we really can’t go far and really don’t need to.”

Elizabeth looked to the back door. “Sounds like another car.”

“Thank you Giles. I’ll put the car away if you want to get home. I’ve got my own keys.” Emelina Beaufort had just stepped in the backdoor. She called out “Digby, are you in the kitchen?”

“Yes, Miss Emelina. Cook and Martha are here as well. We’re just having tea and cake." Cook set out another tea cup, plate and fork. James continued. "It's freshly baked cake and raspberries. Do you have time to sit for a bit before we talk business?”

“Mmmmmmm…I always have time for Cook’s cake, and especially with raspberries. I’d love a cup of tea. We can talk business later.” Emmie came into the kitchen and pulled out the nearest chair.

~~~~~

“Now to business. How can I help you, Mrs. Beaufort?” Digby felt a bit nervous. He had been concerned that his services would no longer be needed or at least his hours would be cut. This had been his home for all his life. He really didn’t know what he would do. Would his Estate pension and government pensions be enough? Would he and Martha be able to get married or would they just ‘live in sin’ as the young people say?

“Digby, is there anything wrong? Just for a second you got a worried look on your face?” Emelina had momentarily looked up at Digby.

“Oh, nothing, Miss Emelina. You wanted know about the accountant, was that it?” James didn't often struggle for words, but he didn't want to bring up his own worries.

“Yes, but there is something else. First of all, stop worrying." Emmie had already sensed Digby's worry. She decided to address it right away. "You had a tense look on your face again. So, I have a question for you: Do all my questionings about the running of the Estate make you uncomfortable?”

James paused a long time before answering. “Well, yes they do. I am beginning to think you have lost faith in me. No, that’s not quite right. I feel like you may be considering doing away with my position. There. I’ve said it out loud. Yes I am worried."

Emmie sat back in her the small tub-chair by Digby's old oak desk. Her next words were full of emotion. “Oh Digby, that is the farthest thing from my mind. I need you here more than ever. You and your father have been much more that butlers. This Estate has been run by your expert hands. When Michael was alive, he always seemed involved with you in the running of things. That’s all I want to do. Be involved in things here. I don’t want to make decisions without talking them over with you.”

Digby smiled and relaxed. “That is good to hear. You have changed so much - like you’ve grown up or woken up - since you and your sister have become family again, I haven’t been able to tell what you might be thinking.”

“I still have a lot to learn. Sometimes I really am overwhelmed by it all and by letting the last five years go by without a thought." Emmie was quiet as she tried to remember her life before she and her sister reunited. Then she gathered herself together and sat up straight. "Doing away with your position? Definitely not. This afternoon I would like the accountant’s contact number. I do have one other addition, or change that I want your advice on. I’m taking Brigitte on as a sort of Personal Assistant. She'll be spending all her time with me, so won’t be able to take care of her cleaning duties. Can we hire another person to fill that spot? Or do you have some other solution? Is this something that you would ordinarily speak with the accountant about?”

"Not necessarily. He would need to be informed of course, of any monetary changes. In this case, the addition of more staff. He would tell me of any difficulties." Digby flipped through the rolodex on his desk, wrote down the name, address and phone number for Mr. Gerald Winston, the accountant. Digby passed the card to Emmie with the information. He returned to their previous conversation. “You have eased my mind, Miss Emelina. I am always available to talk over anything with you. I will also talk with Martha and see if there’s someone she knows that can come in to clean and how often. We shouldn’t need someone full time, so we can keep costs down.”

Emmie slipped Mr. Winston's information into the daytimer that had become her constant companion. “Thank you, Digby. And please. No more worrying about the security of your position. For the rest of the afternoon, I’ll be up in my room if anyone needs anything. Just call up the stairs when you leave for the day.” Emelina wanted to reach out and pat James on the shoulder, but did not. 

~~~~~

Out in the kitchen, Cook had put away the afternoon’s lunch. Martha was busying herself with the Housekeeping books. Emmie stepped out of Digby's office. “Ladies. I’m going up to my room now. Cook, can I take a piece of that cake with me? Just cake and a glass of milk. I’ll come down later and get some real food at supper time. When you leave for the day, just call upstairs. It does get awfully quiet in here when I’m the only one here.” Emelina accepted the cake from Cook, turned and walked to the stairs, “Thank you, Cook.” At the foot of the stairs, she stopped, looked up to the second floor and said…. “I really must do something about the quiet." and continued up the stairs.

“Every moment happens twice: inside and outside, 

and they are two different histories,”

~ Zadie Smith, White Teeth

Chapter One, Episode 73 - Where to Go? - Situationally Theirs

Biltmore House, North Carolina 2015

Review, Edit and Update:
Episode 73 - Where to Go? - had an extra parameter. In my Author's note at the end, I indicated that I wrote this based on my writing group assignment for the month of June. 

I thought it was fairly well edited as we read our pieces aloud to the group. What I had missed, which has been a pattern for this writer, is setting individual scenes around dialogue, consistent with characters and location. Seldom does that alter the dialogue much more than breaking it up should the dialogue be long. I also recognized that, to truly be stand alone stories, when names are mentioned, brief definition of characters is appropriate.

Where to Go?

“Where would I like to go? My goodness, Elizabeth, I had never even thought about that." Martha and Elizabeth had known each other for years, both them hired at the same time, Martha as Housekeeper and Elizabeth as the cook. "Yes, James and I are engaged to be married, but there’s no travel right now. At least, what do they call it - non-essential or something like that? Honeymoon travel can’t be real necessary.”

“Martha.” Cook shook her head in time with stirring her cake batter. “Haven’t you ever played ‘just pretend’ when you were a young girl? You must have played that game with your grandkids.”

“But a honeymoon? I don’t even know whether James likes to travel or where he would like to go.” Martha frowned, surprised that she didn't really know that about her intended.

“But Martha, what do you like? If you could go anywhere, where would it be?” Cook pressed Martha to think about her own interests.

“Let me think.” Martha put one finger to her lips, one hand on her hips. “There are actually two places. One is easier to get to than the other, but if you want me to dream a little………One would be in Scotland and live in a castle on the moors ~ if such things exist anymore. They must have all kinds of history and until Miss Emelina changed things we had been play acting at Upstairs Downstairs a long time. I’d like to see what a really old-fashioned Downstairs would look like……And James and I could go for walks on the moors and just get into the dreaminess of it.” Martha smiled at the thought of walking with 'her' James. James, better known as Digby, was the estate butler. Hired after his father, Digby, Sr. retired from that position.

“Are you sure? Isn’t it cold and dreary there? Not sure that would be the most romantic place to go.” Cook had been hoping for some place warm, like the Islands of Morocco but Martha did have funny ideas now and then. Maybe her second choice would be better. “What’s the second place, Martha? You and James don’t have much chance for romance around here.”

Martha blushed. “Oh, heavens Elizabeth. We’re both too old for all the romantic stuff - except for flowers and wining and dining. If you must know, my second choice is not that much different, except we wouldn’t have to fly across the ocean. It may be easier to get to although with all the protest violence down there, we wouldn’t be able to go right away.”

“But if all the protests were settled, where would you go?” Their long friendship had occasionally tested their patience. This was one of those times. Elizabeth was tapping her foot waiting for Martha to tell her about a place ‘not that much different’. She had gone from the moors of Scotland all the way to protests in the country south of Canada. 

“I would take James to the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina. Did you know that you can stay there? I think James would be fascinated by such a trip. One time, long before you asked me where’d I’d like to go, Joanie showed me how to get on their website. Well, it is just beautiful. It’s in those mountains. You know, the Blue Ridge Mountains. There are amazing gardens and even one inside the house that is at least three stories tall. Can you imagine our Samuel tending exotic plants and inside a castle? He has no time for fancy gardens." Samuel Forrester, the estate gardener, preferred being out on the land to fussing over houseplants. "But back to my trip. They even have a swimming pool from the 1920’s. Oh Elizabeth, you would love the kitchens. They are the real Downstairs. Those people had to work so hard just to keep one family going. Very little electricity yet. Still churning butter and the cold storage is bigger than our one pantry!”

Martha's description had aroused Elizabeth's curiosity. “That place does sound interesting, but what about the Upstairs? What would Brigitte think of it?” Brigitte, a young woman and only hired four years prior, had what Martha called a 'multipurpose job' - to be Mrs. Beaufort's Lady's Maid and the Upstairs cleaning maid. 

“Well, the first thing Brigitte would say ‘Get me more staff! I can’t clean all this by myself.’ But she’d get us a whole lot more gossip! Wouldn’t old Mrs. Beaufort be right in her element. A real Lady of the Manor. And did you know there is a whole floor for guests. Single bedrooms. Parlours. Even a writing room. Ceilings more than 12 feet high, walls covered with heavy tapestries. Some walls covered floor to ceiling with book shelves. Dark maroon velvet upholstery and draperies. My heart just gets all in a flutter just thinking about how grand it must have been for the Upstairs people, while our Downstairs ancestors were working from dawn to dusk just to keep everything grand.” While Martha was gushing about the Biltmore Mansion, Cook had finished mixing up her cake and popped it in the oven to bake. While it was baking, she put the old teakettle on for tea. It was an old but still shiny teakettle with what Cook considered a proper spout. She put her Grandmother’s porcelain teakettle whistle over the spout and got out teacups for both of them.

Elizabeth washed her hands, drying them on her apron. “The Biltmore Mansion, is it? When I put that cake in oven at just the right temperature and then thought about the big drafty ovens back then….. just to be in those kitchens and see all the old equipment those cooks used then would be a real treat. Do you think we could handle some of it? You know, Martha, we may just have to leave James at home and go exploring ourselves. 

“Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”

~ Confucius

**Authors note: Today was my writers group. Our assignment for today was to research and write about a place we had never been. Martha, the Housekeeper and Cook at the Beaufort Estate, decided that they should tell the story. What could I do? I've been to Biltmore House but those two are like a pair of two year olds sometimes. So I let them loose on my writers group this afternoon. 

Chapter One, Episode 72 - Stumbling - Standing still Slowly Blog Post

Review, Edit and Update
This episode of Situationally Theirs, shows three women finding their own strengths. This author stumbled over several misspellings, typos and poor wording. All were repaired. There was also a mention of two other characters not been storied further in any episode that I can think of: 'the family accountant' and 'a cousin'. Neither have names or any other details.....I may have do to something about that.

Stumbling

The visit with the Beaufort Estate lawyer was unknown territory for all three women. The imposing building and dark echoing office didn’t help. Despite eased restrictions, there were still fewer people on the streets. Lineups outside banks, office buildings and grocery stores were still present. Six feet of separation maintained by painted or taped lines on sidewalks and down aisles. There were the same green lines spaced outside the building that housed the law offices, where there were also I.T offices, a local coffee shop, a small pharmacy and many medical and dental offices. Listings for each floor were to be found on an engraved legend beside elevators that ferried people to and from appointments.

Emelina, Dez and Brigitte had been questioned about travel and symptoms before being allowed into the building. Brigitte was pleased with Miss Emelina’s handling of the situation. The more she was with her in her role of personal assistant, the better able she was to see the transformation that had taken place. While Brigitte wouldn’t wish Covid19 on anyone, the effect of the social distancing and so called lockdown had pushed Emelina out of her comfort zone. Brigitte had never even met a lawyer in the past, let alone had an appointment with one. She didn’t see how she could help, but Miss Emelina had insisted that she and Dez accompany her. Once in the lawyer’s office, even before Mr. Donohue was there, Brigitte understood Miss Em’s desire for support. Even Brigitte, tall and confident, had felt like she was shrinking in that big and quite sterile feeling space. 

Miss Emelina took charge when the lawyer, Mr. Donohue, had been talking about the details of Michael Beaufort’s will. “Please, Mr. Donohue, speak English rather than all the long winded legal explanations.” Once she got past that initial hurtle, her Charity board room experiences had taken over and allowed her to be more assertive. 

“Well then, Mrs Beaufort.............” Emelina didn’t remind him that she had asked him to call her Emelina, her given name. After she had spoken to him for only a few minutes, she much preferred the use of formal names. It had the effect of levelling the playing field, a playing field that belonged to him. 

Mr. Donahue repeated "Well then, Mrs. Beaufort,"....and continued "this meeting will be much shorter than I anticipated. The will in question, prepared by me and signed by your husband, Mr. Michael Beaufort, states, in short form, that he bequeaths all monies and properties to you. He stipulates that, as sole owner,  you are to continue with working with the family accountant for at least one year. After that you may change that agreement. He also stipulates that should you want to make any changes or additions to the estate, that said accountant be involved in any financial dealings. There were some minor monetary gifts to a cousin, but that was taken care of as soon as the will was probated. Is that sufficient information?”

“For the most part, but can his will be challenged by anyone? You mentioned a cousin? I'm certain you know if a challenge is possible and if there have been any challenges to the will. Can you confirm that with me, please?

Mr. Donahue spoke patiently as if speaking to a child. “No, Mrs. Beaufort, there have been no challenges and at any time, any will can be challenged.” 

“I think you’ve answered all our questions for now, Mr. Donahue. Thank you for providing us with a copy of the will. I will speak to Digby about the location and security of the original will.” Miss Emelina asked both Dez and Brigitte if they had any questions, more to assure Mr. Donohue that she had back up than to find out about questions. When they did not, Miss Emelina ended the conversation by standing up and pushing back her chair. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Donohue. Please make certain to bill the estate appropriately.” She was curious about his hourly rate, but chose not to ask. She would find out either from Digby or the accountant. It was after this relatively short meeting that they went to the park where Emelina could let go of all the tension she had built up.

“So, Dez I know what you thought of Mr. Donohue and I must say I agree with you. His firm may have been the lawyers for the family for many years, and very likely good ones, however I felt like I'd been called into the principle's office. And we were the ones to ask for the meeting! Brigitte, what are your thoughts?”

“Honestly? Did you see the suit he was wearing? Casual grey slacks, open necked white shirt - they had to have been silk. His shoes were amazing - deep copper brown Italian leather loafers - and no socks..... What?”

“You’re giving me an opinion about his wardrobe? What are your thoughts about the meeting?” Emelina and Dez were both laughing.

“Well, obviously he has made a lot of money ~ his clothes, his office and in that building! I guess I’m trying to say that he seemed pretty slick. I don’t even know any lawyers. I did feel like he thought he was doing us a favour. Good for you for the comment about billing. I’m pretty sure he would anyway, but you basically gave him permission. It was not the most comfortable meeting I’ve ever been in but, you handled it really well. If there are any future meetings, it'll probably get better. We just have to get to know each other.”

"You're absolutely right, Brigitte." Emelina suddenly turned to Dez. “Dez, do you remember when Grandpa Eliot died and Grandma was left in control of their tiny ‘estate’. Grandma didn’t even know how to write a cheque. Grandpa had always paid the bills, gave Grandma an allowance, and took care of any other financial thing. Do you remember what Grandma said?”

“Wow.That takes me back. Let’s see. It was something like ‘I can fall apart and you’d lock me up in a looney bin or I can learn how to do all these things that your grandpa did for all those years.’ And she did. How’s that Emmie?”

“Word perfect - we heard that more than once. She learned about bank accounts and how to manage the small pension she had. She was pretty amazing.” Dez and Emmie both got quiet, remembering their Grandma Eliot. Their eyes sparkled with tears. Not being able to share in those sweet memories, Brigitte was getting a bit uncomfortable, She broke the silence with a question. “So what is our next move?”

Emelina dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Oh, yes. The accountant. I’ll talk with Digby tonight before he leaves and get the contact information from him. I do hope he’s bit less intimidating than Mr. Donohue.”

“Don’t you want us with you when you talk with Digby? If not, I need to get home. I work for a couple of hours tonight for Mr. Jorgensson.”

“No, I’ll speak with him on my own. If the three of us descend on him it may really make him nervous. I hope I can be more sensitive with him this time. Brigitte, what are you up to tonight?”

“Netflix, popcorn and Harold.”

“Harold? Brigitte, what haven’t you told us?”

“Harold is my cat. He’s a Persian Blue. We always watch Netflix together. He has a tuna treat and I have popcorn.”

The three women parted company. Dez walked the six blocks home in the waning afternoon. Brigitte took the bus home. Emelina drove to the Estate and her plans to speak with Digby. After talking it all over with Brigitte and Dez, she felt satisfied.

“Was it you or I who stumbled first? It does not matter. The one of us 

who finds the strength to get up first, must help the other.”

~ Vera Nazarian

Chapter One, Episode 71 - They Dare - Situationally Theirs

Review, Edit and Update:
Once more the sparseness of the surroundings for the dialogue was in need of 'setting the scene' and clarifying who is speaking. I guess I'm still learning this craft! There were no typos to fix, thankfully. 

They Dare

The three women met outside the newest office building in Hartley. Eleven stories, the coppered glass windows reflected the buildings opposite, parked cars, and, at street level, the still distancing passersby, some of them masked. Masks of plain black, Canadian flag masks, cat whiskered masks - all manner of designs. Pigeons lined the top of the buildings, swooping down as a flock when crumbs or seeds seemed possible. The three women stood in line waiting to be admitted to the imposing building. Occasionally one would turn, speak to the others and the others would reply. A security guard stopped each person and spoke with them, then ushered them into the building. The first of the three women was next. Went she entered the building, a container with hand sanitizer was her first stop. Quickly following, her two companions arrived through the doors, stopped for hand sanitizer and joined her at the gleaming bank of elevators. 

Emelina called out to Brigitte “What floor is he on?”  Brigitte, the first to arrive at elevators, opened her tablet. “Let me look at his email……his law office is on the tenth floor.” Brigitte was stepping into her new role as Emelina's personal secretary as confidently as possible. She indicated a stark white sign with black and red lettering set above the elevator buttons “Look. That sign says only two people allowed on the elevator at a time. Miss Em, you and Dez go first. Maybe the other one will come more quickly than waiting for this one to come back.” Brigitte came prepared and had her tablet device with her. “I have your cell number Miss Em, and the office number, if it's taking me too long to get there.”

Emelina replied “Brigitte, we’ll wait for you so we can all go to the office together.” Each of them were just a little nervous about this meeting. Emelina had met the lawyer before but only vaguely remembered him. It was in the weeks following Michael’s death and all of those weeks were lost in a fog. Emelina didn’t really know when the fog lifted and even then it had seemed to swirl around her constantly. She was very grateful for her sister, Dez and for Brigitte. She felt like she could falter at any moment. Dez was completely unfamiliar with this side of Emmie's life and the Beaufort Estate. She would rather have been in the kitchen with Cook, or out in the orchard. Brigitte, still learning this personal secretary role, didn't know what she was supposed to do once they were actually speaking with the lawyer. 

Emelina spoke up. “Look for office number 1014……..there it is down that way.”

Opening the door, they walked into a cavernous room. There was no receptionist at the desk. From a dark hallway lined by closed glass doors, well dressed man approached them. He was clean shaven and thick skinned. His white wavy hair had the just trimmed look that so many were sporting in the late days of Covid19. “Good afternoon ladies. Mrs. Beaufort, so good to see you again. I’ll not shake your hands. As you know, there are still many precautions being followed. I am only just coming into the office to meet with clients, and then only a very limited amount.” Brigitte was secretly relieved. Emelina was obviously the person to take the lead. 

“Hello, Mr……Mr. Donahue is it? I’m sorry, I actually had to ask my butler for your name and contact information. I recall little of what may have been discussed five years ago.” Emelina had spoken again with Digby, reassuring him that his position was secure. She had sensed that their discussion earlier in the week had unsettled him. When he said ‘that’s what you’re paying me for’, Emelina heard an edge to his voice that she seldom heard. 

Mr. Donahue indicated an open door on the other side of the reception area, and led the way. “We’re going to meet in the Board room so we can maintain distances. If any of you would be more comfortable wearing a mask, please feel free." Once they were all seated, Mr. Donahue at the head of the long shining oak table, Emelina, Dez and Brigitte around the opposite end in rich leather padded swivel chairs, the lawyer spoke "And who do we have here?”

The three women maintained their own separation with one seat between them. Emelina introduced Dez and Brigitte “Pardon me, Mr. Donohue. This is my sister, Dez Eliot and this is my Personal Assistant, Brigitte Smithson. This Board room is perfect. I’ll not wear a mask. Dez? - No. Brigitte? - No. Brigitte will be taking notes to make certain we’re all on the same page. Dez is here for moral support, but will also be doing some work on the Estate. And please, call me Emelina.”

Once they were past the introductions, Emelina felt a bit more at ease. Dez had already decided she would really just observe and listen. She wrote down questions related to the development of the orchard or an apiary. Her iPhone was her personal secretary. Brigitte didn’t want to miss a thing, but she had learned that trying to get down everything had the reverse effect. She missed out on too much. Mr. Donohue, sitting at the far end of the board room table, looked at the three women. He was impressed. He remembered Mrs. Beaufort as rather helpless and vapid woman. The Mrs. Beaufort that he was seeing today was self assured and confident. Her sister was really an unknown to him, but seemed as confident. He hadn’t even known that Mrs. Beaufort had any family. Brigitte - He thought maybe he’d seen her before but couldn’t quite place her. She always seemed focussed on her tablet, but he had no misconceptions that she was not paying attention.  They had come today to review the junior Mr Beaufort’s will.

~~~~~

In a small park a block from Mr. Donohue’s building, Emelina, Dez and Brigitte talked over the meeting. “I was so nervous!” Emelina was still shaken. “My mouth was so dry I was sure he could hear my lips cracking.” 

“Here, Emmie, have some water. You were great. That guy was a bit of a pompous ass if you ask me. Treating us like little women without any brains. That oily smile of his. I never knew Michael, but how could he have him for a lawyer!” Dez was fuming.

Brigitte took over. “Just calm down, both of you. I spoke with Digby about him. Mr. Donohue has been the family lawyer for years. His father had been their lawyer before that and, according to Digby, never dealt with any of the women. Old Mrs. Beaufort was fine with that as long as the bills were paid and he wasn’t skimming any money from them. She had Digby, Sr. run interference with him.” Brigitte needed them to keep level heads if they were going to proceed with the few plans they had, mainly the upkeep of the apple orchard and developing an apiary. “Miss Em, is there anyone else you can talk with for advice? Digby is kind of caught between loyalties and the strain that family history puts on him. You may even want a second opinion to see what your rights are. Mr. Donohue did give me a copy of the will to hold for you that will help us figure this out. It may be that we don’t even need to worry.”

“Thank you Brigitte. You’ve always been my voice of reason.” Emelina touched Brigitte's arm lightly.

“Listen…..do you hear that.” Dez was suddenly on her feet. “Do either of you have cash? That’s an ice cream truck!”  Emmie and Brigitte stood as one. “Ice cream! It’s coming toward us. Let’s meet him and change the subject for a while.”

“I hate to hear you talk about all women as if they were fine ladies instead of 

rational creatures. None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives.”

~ Jane Austen, Persuasion

Chapter One, Episode 70 - A Better Way - Situationally Theirs

Review, Edit and Update:
A Better Way brings the core cast of characters together and to Emelina's attention. Most of my edits were related to verb use (present vs past) in the first paragraph to address Emelina's new awareness of her role as 'boss' of Beaufort Estate. I also fleshed out personal reactions around dialogue later in the piece, for both Emelina and Digby.  

A Better Way

Emmie had the house to herself. Down in the kitchen at the long plank table, Emmie read the report Brigitte had written. From their visit with Samuel and the lunch they had with Dez, she had drawn a troubling picture. The notes were clear and concise, but they left out something. Some kind of quality. Emmie couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was maybe like it missed the sunshine. She hadn’t realized that Brigitte could write so clinically. She had stripped down both conversations to a very skeletal form. Orchard - garden - general yard maintenance - pending apiary - the dollar value to the estate. There was nothing about the quality of life for the people living and working on the estate. Emmie was beginning to recognize a very uncomfortable feeling that she had been ignoring for a very long time. Each time it bubbled up, she distracted herself  or locked it in the far reaches of her mind. In a whisper, Emmie said “I don’t like being the boss. But I am. Just because Michael left me a wealthy woman and left me in charge.”

Now that she could see the skeleton that Brigitte had drawn for her, it was obvious that people made her home such a wonderful place to live. Those people - Digby, Martha, Cook, Samuel and Brigitte - were not in the report except as dollars. Emmie had never considered herself a business woman, but there had to be a better way. “There just has to be a better way.”

Digby’s stalwart and steady steering of this craft became devalued by this report. Just as were the rest of the staff. Martha runs the household like it was her own and does it all with a light touch and laughter, keeping Digby informed about day to day needs for the home. Cook is generous and cheerful. Emmie smiled and took a deep breath, recalling the delicious aroma of bread or the savoury taste of Cook's roast beef dinners or the delicious soups and thick hearty sandwiches. Samuel with his drawl, really is part of the land he cared for. Unlike his short, terse conversational style, he takes them all down the winding road of history of the Beaufort estate. Digby had listened to the same stories from his father when his father was butler. Brigitte had proven to be very flexible - a lady’s maid who really had to function as a nurse maid for Emmie, a cleaning woman, and now she becoming her personal assistant. And Giles. Yes, he could often be seen leaning casually against the vehicle waiting for Emmie. But on the estate he gets grease on his hands with a smile on his face while he keeps all the vehicles in excellent running order. Her sister Dez, just barely in the picture, is merely a footnote at the bottom of the page as Project Manager of the apple orchard and the apiary that had yet to be developed. So very importantly, it had been Dez who kept Emmie out of her doldrums; doldrums that Emmie could easily have embraced. Emmie saw the Beaufort estate in a way she had never dreamed possible. 

Digby stepped out of his office, turned and pulled the door shut. Locking it, he put his keys in his slacks pocket. Picking up his briefcase, he prepared to cross the kitchen. “Miss Emelina. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“Digby! I thought the house was empty.” She tried to blink tears back.

“Whatever is wrong, Mrs. Beaufort?” Digby set down his briefcase and offered a tissue. “Here, it looks like you need this. Now tell me what’s wrong.” Always part of his butler role, he could be very solicitous. He did, however, care very much for Mr. Michael's wife.

“Thank you, Digby.” Emmie dabbed at her eyes. “Digby would you have time to talk with me? If you have to go, we can talk in the morning.”

“Of course I can talk with you. I will always have time for you. What is it?” He sat down across the table from Miss Emelina, giving her his undivided attention.

“I have been studying and talking and looking at this whole place and the responsibility that I have shirked all these years. It’s so...........overwhelming! I can hardly take any more.” Miss Emelina's resolve was crumbling. She almost wanted to give up. Digby's response, as kind as it was, pushed her further away from the realities that she had seen.

“Well, Miss Emelina, you just give it all to me and I can take care of things for you. After all isn’t that what I’m paid for?” Digby was a bit uncomfortable when he said that, feeling at once just a tiny bit resentful but wanting also to help Mr. Michael's wife in whatever way he could.

“But Digby, I worry about what I should be doing. I don’t want to go back to being helpless, and quite frankly, hopeless. Life was getting darker and darker all the time. That’s not even the important thing. My biggest worry is all of you. Good, good people that keep this old place running. And all just because I pay you………Oh, my goodness…..that didn’t come out right at all. You do get paid, but the work you do is full of life and caring. Certainly it is caring about the estate, but it has been home for all of you for many years. James, you grew up here……oh, I’m sorry…do you mind if I call you James?” Emmie's words tumbled directly from her heart. Digby could see how distressed she really was. This was not the helpless woman they had all been taking care of since the death of her husband.

“Oh course I don’t mind.” Digby felt quite awkward and a little nervous. Mrs. Beaufort had never called him by his first name. “Are you considering a change in staff?”

“Oh no, no, no! I didn’t mean to give you that impression. I was just running on and on. I should have called my sister to talk. I just want to figure out how we can all stay together, but I hate being the boss.” Emelina smiled shyly “Please, don’t tell my sister that…… But there must be a better way and I’m going to find it.”

“There you are, Miss Emelina. Much better now that you’ve had a chance to talk. It will be all right. You take some time away from this. Remember, you’ve only just been truly awake for a few months, studying for just a couple of weeks. Have you considered talking to the Estate lawyer to go over Mr. Michael’s will again and how the estate is to be managed?” Digby offered Miss Emelina more concrete suggestions to give her some relief and at the same time, help her in her quest for Estate knowledge.

“Thank you, Digby. Go ahead and continue with your evening. I hadn’t thought about talking to the Estate lawyers. That’s an excellent idea.” Even just that suggestion relieved Emelina and gave her something solid to work with. Would that be part of Brigitte's role?

They strolled to the kitchen door. Emelina walked with Digby out onto the porch. He raised his umbrella against steady rain. Emelina watched as he drove away. Rain ran down the gutters and dripped from the eaves infusing the air with freshness.

“Character - the willingness to accept responsibility for 

one’s own life - is the source from which self-respect springs.”

~ Joan Didion, On Self-Respect