Author: rharrisonauthor

Adapting to Life on the Farm.

The start of the story can be found here.

Following from the last section
where Dr Standfast is listening to the music of the spheres. A new chapter where Elizabeth finds and cannot get into Dr Standfast’s laboratory. She’s just discovered a kitten in the barn, and that she’ll need to give him a better name than ‘Mimi.’

Elizabeth blushed, “I see. I shall need another name.”
“I don’t know, Miss, that cat’s know their names. Mimi, or ‘cat!’ are the same.”
“I think he’d appreciate a noble name.”
“Call him what you want, Miss James. I must get about my work. Henry! Get thee here.”

After breakfast the next day, Elizabeth helped clear up and went to feed the chickens. It was still a novel experience. Then, her chores complete, she went exploring. The kittens beckoned once more, and she played with the friendly orange and white one. “I shall need to name you. Mimi simply will not do.”

Elizabeth put the kitten who wasn’t Mimi down and continued her explorations. The same doors were locked as yesterday. She rattled the locks and knocked on the doors, but there was still no answer from inside. She shrugged, Uncle Sylvester must be out, and she’d ask him about the barns again at supper.

Or maybe not. The barns formed three sides of a large nearly square stone building. There were windows in the stable to the outside. Elizabeth walked outside of the building and started surveying the walls. Henry stared out, looking hot, tired, and exhausted, from a window on one wall. She waved at him, silently thanking him for confirming that the wall was the other side of the stables. She turned the corner to the next wall and looked up. There, high on the wall was a small window. Further down the wall, there was another window, equally high. Beyond that sat the wall and hedge that divided the field and barn from the lane to North Bovey. More importantly there was a tree. A tree that she could climb, if she were careful.

Elizabeth clambered up the tree, bracing herself between the wall and the tree. Then she peered into the small window. Down below, her uncle worked. He was doing something with a long tube, a tube with fins. She watched as he took a pot of some dark almost black molten material and carefully poured it into the tube. After a few moments he put the tube carefully in a rack, sitting upright while it cooled. Then he put the pot back onto a warming tray and picked up another tube. He was about to pour more of the material into that tube when George knocked on the outer door. “Sylvester, you have a visitor. That nosey Mrs Grace, and her daughter.”

“Dash it all, I’m at a critical juncture … I’ll just be a few moments. Stall her.”

“I will.”

“And find Elizabeth. I’m sure she’d like to talk with Miss Grace. Keep her out of trouble.”

“Who, Miss Grace or Elizabeth?”

“Elizabeth. Who else?”

He carefully, with the most delicate of care, poured the mixture into that tube. Then he set the tube in the rack. “That’ll do.”

He wiped his hands with a rag and started for the door.

It was just as well that the walls were thick. He didn’t hear the scuffling noise as Elizabeth descended, much too rapidly, from the tree. She stopped at the bottom and did her best to rapidly smooth and clean her dress. I hope Uncle Sylvester didn’t notice me.

“Elizabeth!’ It was her uncle, “Your friend Miss Grace is here.”

The wall and hedge in front of her blocked the short way around the back of the barn, so Elizabeth came the long way round.

Sylvester inspected her and clicked his tongue when she emerged, “There you are. What have you been up to?”

“Exploring.”

“I can see that. Exploring the hedges by the look of you. Find anything worthwhile?”

“Birds’ nests. A lot of rubbish.”

“Sounds interesting. Miss Grace is here and since she’s in her visiting clothes, I suggest you give the exploring a miss for the time being.”

Lucy watched this exchange with a half-smile on her face, “Dr Standfast, I could take Elizabeth for a walk down the lanes without putting my dress in harm’s way.”

“If you say so, but don’t overtire Miss James.”

“I won’t. Miss James, shall we?” Lucy nodded towards the lane.

“My pleasure,” Laughing, Elizabeth gave her friend an exaggerated curtsey.

A few minutes later as they were strolling towards the valley that led to Manaton, Lucy stopped.

“Elizabeth, I-I have a favour to ask of you.”

“You do?”

“Will you keep it quiet, even if you won’t grant it to me?”

“I’ll do my best. Is it about your Edward?”

Lucy blushed, “Yes.”

“You’d like me to post letters?”

Lucy nodded, it was a big favour to ask and one that could get Elizabeth in trouble. Assisting in a clandestine communication.

“I’d love to.”

“Oh, good.” Lucy breathed a huge gasp of relief. “Could you send this one?” She pulled a small missive from her dress.

Elizabeth took it. “It’s warm.”

“It’s been next to my heart, please don’t read it.”

“I won’t.” Then Elizabeth put it carefully into her pocket. “Anyway if it’s like other love letters, it’s full of mushy sentiment. Not something I’m all that keen on.”

“Until it’s your time to fall in love.”

Elizabeth laughed, “That will never happen.”

That evening, after they returned, and in the interval between shooing the chickens back into their coop and supper, Elizabeth wandered to the back of the barn. The tree she climbed had been cut down.

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Adapting to Life on the Farm.

The start of the story can be found here.

Following from the last section
where Dr Standfast is listening to the music of the spheres. A new chapter where Elizabeth finds and cannot get into Dr Standfast’s laboratory.

It was Elizabeth’s turn to smile at her friend. “When I’m stronger, why don’t we arrange for an expedition to see the works? Just the pair of us, I have this deep desire to explore the ancient monuments. You have kindly offered to show me the nearest ones.”
“Deep desire?”
“New found, but intense. Though I think your parents don’t need to hear how new found it is.”

Morning the next day found Elizabeth at loose ends. Lucy had warned her before leaving the day before that she would be visiting households in the parish with her mother, an inescapable consequence of being a vicar’s daughter. Since her health precluded going with her friend, Elizabeth was left to wander around Barnecourt. The house, its gardens, and even the chickens paled. They could not hold a candle to the breeze of life in London. Not quite, completely, Elizabeth played with the barn kittens under the watchful but ever suspicious eyes of their mothers.
Mary interrupted her play, “Dinner is ready Miss. Wash yourself first.” Then she went in search of her husband and Dr Standfast.
With Elizabeth, her uncle Sylvester, and Mrs Trent seated around the table, Mr George Trent began his grace, “Let us pray, for what we are about to receive.” After what seemed forever to Elizabeth, since the country air and her recovering health had given her a serious appetite, he finally said, “Amen.”
Elizabeth started in on a plate filled with a Yorkshire pudding, gravy, roast potatoes and a slice from the joint. Then, fork in mid-air with her first bite, she asked, “What about Mr Sharpless?”
“That useless lump?” George said, “Set him to cleaning tack, polishing the brass on the saddles then cleaning the leather. What a mess. Should ha’ done it myself.”
“That’s not fair, George,” Sylvester said, “Once you showed him what to do, he did a sterling job.”
“When he wasn’t scared by the cows, or,” he laughed, “should have seen him jump when that cat rubbed against his ankle.”
“Would it be rude of me to take him a plate?” Elizabeth asked, “He seemed nice enough, poor lad.”
Sylvester said, “Your concern does you well, niece, but he has plenty to eat. So you needn’t worry.”
“Still to eat alone.”
George smirked, “The animals will do for company. Let him get used to them.”
Elizabeth was not convinced, but her dinner was waiting. It smelled excellent, was getting cold and she was starving.
After watching her clean her plate, and then ask for seconds, Sylvester commented, “It looks like the fresh air agrees with you, Elizabeth.”
“Either that or Mrs Trent’s cooking.”
After they finished the meal, and Elizabeth helped, over Mrs Trent’s objections, with clearing the dishes, Elizabeth skipped out to the barn. One of the kittens, an orange and white one she had played with in the morning mewed at her. She picked it up, and it purred while she stroked it, “I wonder if you have a name. You’re certainly friendly.”
The kitten continued to purr, so she said, “I guess you don’t. I shall call you Mimi.”
The kitten didn’t object so she carried it into the barn in search of the unfortunate Mr Sharpless. She found him sitting in the back, completely exhausted from shovelling the stalls. He rose and touched his forehead in a salute, “Miss James.”
“I wondered how you were. How is that ankle?”
“Still hurts, but this brace.” He held up his foot to show a metal brace that ran from his calf to a hinge and then along, around and below his foot. “This brace that your uncle made allows me to move around.”
“I can see. You’ve been busy.”
“Not busy enough for Mr Trent. I should be shovelling and raking these stalls. Would you believe they were cleaned last week? Who would have thought horses could emit so much so quickly.”
“They are big animals. It ought to be better than elephants.”
“Elephants?” Henry paused, momentarily puzzled, “Oh elephants, yes, they are smaller and easier than them.”
Elizabeth hesitated, then she said, “Would you like to stroke my kitten? I’m going to call her Mimi.”
Henry nodded and she handed Mimi to him. Mimi still purred, even in this stranger’s hands. “One thing, Miss James. I think he’s a Tom.”
“Oh dear. I shall need another name.”
“I might be wrong, ask Mr Trent.”
“Ask Mr Trent what, you skulking devil. Get tha’ back to cleaning the stalls, and don’t talk to the quality.”
Henry handed the kitten back to Elizabeth and picked up his shovel. “Sir.” Then he started in on shovelling out the next stall.
“Good. Now Miss James, what can I do for you?”
“I was just showing a kitten I liked to Mr Sharpless. That and seeing how he is recovering from his injuries.”
“Gormless lad, leave him to me, Miss James. Which kitten?”
“That orange and white one.” She pointed. “I’m calling her Mimi.”
“That little Tom?”
“How can you tell?”
“Don’t you know about that?” There was an edge of panic in his voice. Mr Trent did not look forward to explaining mammalian biology to a young woman, “I can get Mrs Trent to explain.”

Henry chuckled in the background. Mr Trent snapped at him, “Get thee back to work, tha’ lazy lump.”
“I know what you’re hinting at. I may come from the city, but I’m not daft. Just how can you tell with a kitten, so easily?”
Mr Trent gave a sigh of relief, “Look how he holds his tail. Struts about like he owns the place, and if you look closely.”
Elizabeth blushed, “I see. I shall need another name.”
“I don’t know, Miss, that cat’s know their names. Mimi, or ‘cat!’ are the same.”
“I think he’d appreciate a noble name.”
“Call him what you want, Miss James. I must get about my work. Henry! Get thee here.”

The Story continues here.

If you liked this you might like some of my other work. Sign up for my newsletter. You can also have a look at my author’s page.