Lady Tressingham stared in openmouthed amazement. “Where did you learn to do such a thing?”
“From a recipe book of medieval healing cures, tisanes, and poultices I found in the library at Tressingham Court.” Alyssa shrugged her shoulders. “I tried it and liked it and we’ve been using my rose, lavender, lemon, and chamomile waters here and at Tressingham Court ever since.”
Lady Tressingham pursed her lips in thought. The household had been laundering her delicate undergarments and linens in rosewater for years. She didn’t recall when it started and never remembered suggesting the idea to Mrs. Batsford, the housekeeper at Tressingham Court, but one day her laundry arrived smelling of roses, and it had continued to this day. She stared at her daughter. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Since shortly before my fourteenth birthday.”
“You’ve been making supplies of rosewater for both households since that date?”
“Well, I waited to see if you liked it. And when Mrs. B told me you adored the rose scent of your laundry, I decided to continue. I make the sachets you like, too.” She filled another bottle and corked it.
“Alone?” Lady Tressingham glanced around. “Where are all the kitchen and scullery maids? Why aren’t they doing it?”
“I sent them away,” Alyssa answered. “I work better alone.”
“You shouldn’t be working at all,” Lady Tressingham cried. “This is a job for the cook or the housekeeper or somebody…”
Alyssa shook her head. “Not at all. According to tradition, it’s your job.”
“Mine?” Lady Tressingham spat out the question as if she’d never heard a more ridiculous notion. “Impossible.”
“In the days of Henry the Eighth and Queen Elizabeth, the ladies of the house kept the herb garden and prepared all the lotions, potions, and remedies the household needed, in addition to their hours spent doing needlework.” Alyssa glanced up at her mother. “Since you don’t like to garden and appeared to have no interest in preparing the rosewater used on your linens and undergarments, I decided to make it.”
“I thought we purchased it,” Lady Tressingham admitted. “From a perfumer or a purveyor of toiletries.”
“I don’t make all the scented soaps or oils anymore,” Alyssa said. “Because they take a bit longer and require more work and I haven’t had as much time to devote to it since Amy, Addie, Anne, and I started preparing for our London seasons. But I still make all of the scented waters and sachets we use.”
Lady Tressingham sniffed the air. “It does smell divine.”
“It’s your favorite blend,” Alyssa told her. “The flowers in the garden aren’t just to admire or to cut and arrange in vases; they’re used in many other ways.”
“That may be so, but the fact remains that you are not the lady of the house or the person charged with this responsibility.”
“Why not?” Alyssa demanded. “I’m the person who started it, and I’m the person best suited for the task.”
“Because while you may live here, this is not your house or your responsibility. It’s mine. And Mrs. Warrick came to me with a bevy of complaints about your presence in the kitchen and your constant meddling with the household staff and chores.”
“I’m not meddling, Mama. I’m simply making note of the way things are done to see if there might be a more efficient way of doing it.” Alyssa filled another bottle with rosewater, dropped several tiny rosebuds into the liquid, then corked the bottle and set it aside to cool with the others. “Did you know that Mrs. Warrick has the maids fold and store the bed linens in the same manner every time? While Mrs. Batsford at Tressingham Court instructs the maids in different methods of folding and insists that the linens stored in the cupboard be rotated and refolded once every month to prevent wear at the fold lines.
“Mrs. Reynolds, the Earl and Countess of Albemarle’s housekeeper, rotates the linen cupboards every three months, and Mrs. Bingham, the Duchess of Kerry’s housekeeper, doesn’t rotate the linens at all. She replaces them every year.”
Lady Tressingham nearly screamed in exasperation. “I don’t care how the neighbors’ housekeepers’ care for their linens. I only care about mine. And that means keeping my housekeeper contented. You cannot continue to harass her with your endless questions about her methods of operation and suggestions for improvement.”
Alyssa slid another bottle of rosewater down the table and carefully lined it up alongside the others. “I haven’t been harassing Mrs. Warrick.”
“You’ve been questioning her ability and her methods,” Lady Tressingham said. “She is the housekeeper, and you are only an unmarried daughter of the house. Mrs. Warrick feels your criticism is unwarranted. Nor does she appreciate your going behind her back and interviewing the neighboring housekeepers about their methods of doing things. She feels that doing so casts a poor light on her abilities. And so, for that matter, do I.”
“I haven’t criticized Mrs. Warrick’s methods or her abilities. Nor have I gone behind her back. I told Mrs. Warrick that I had asked Durham to help me gather information from the neighboring households, so that we might compare notes. And I offered helpful suggestions based on those notes.”
“She doesn’t need your suggestions, Alyssa. Helpful or otherwise. Mrs. Warrick has been in service all her life. She knows how to run a household.”
“She’s been in service to our family all of her life,” Alyssa pointed out. “She knows how to run a Carrollton household. But that doesn’t mean it’s being run as efficiently as it could be. There are always better ways of doing things, and it’s our responsibility to learn them and to incorporate them in our daily lives.”
Lady Tressingham heaved another dramatic sigh. Sometimes she wondered if she had actually given birth to Alyssa or if the midwife had somehow switched her child for the wet nurse’s. The midwife had recommended the wet nurse, after all. It was true that Alyssa excelled in the ladylike arts of language and sketching and watercolors, of needlework, and playing the pianoforte, but she had an unfortunate curiosity about and a penchant for performing domestic work. “I cannot believe that in the space of a day or so, you have managed to graduate from pestering the outdoor staff to harassing the indoor staff with your endless questions and suggestions.”
“How else can I compare methods and decide upon the most efficient ones?”
“Why should you want to do so?” Lady Tressingham countered sharply. “At least until you’re married with a home of your own. Then you may interrogate every housekeeper in England if you like, so long as you cease interrogating mine.”