‘Indeed,’ said Arthur, with sharpness such as she had never seen in him before, ‘I beg you will not. I won’t have my affairs the town talk of Wrangerton.’ But seeing her look frightened, and ready to cry, he softened instantly, and said, affectionately, ‘No, no, Violet, we must keep our concerns to ourselves. I don’t want to serve for the entertainment of Matilda’s particular friends.’
‘Mamma wouldn’t tell—’
‘I’ll trust no house of seven women.’
‘But how am I to know how to manage?’
‘Never mind; you’ll get on. It comes as naturally to women as if it was shooting or fishing.’
‘I wonder how I shall begin! I don’t know anything.’
‘Buy a cookery book.’
‘Aunt Moss gave me one; I didn’t mean that. But, oh, dear, there’s the hiring of servants, and buying things!’
‘Don’t ask me: it is woman’s work, and always to be done behind the scenes. If there’s a thing I mortally hate, it is those housekeeper bodies who go about talking of their good cooks.’
Violet was silenced, but after much meditation she humbly begged for answers to one or two questions. ‘Was she to pay the servants’ wages out of this?’