Travelling Rifleman

"I'll be checkin' his room afore he goes anywhere near it tonight an' if there's a toad there, I'll know it's yourn," Cotton said, and grinned at Newbury. "Though, I hear he was a right tearaway himself when he was a kid, so he prob'ly won't even mind. But you know what kids are like. Don't encourage 'em, will you?"

"From the sound of it, they hardly need encouragin'," Newbury observed. "Where's your room at? I reckon I've stood around in this mess long enough."

"Jus' along here, mate," Cotton said, leading the way back along the corridor and opening a door. "Hey - Maggie? Would you get him some hot water for a wash an' shave, please?"

She nodded and grinned at Joe again before heading off to the kitchen.

Newbury took a moment to look around the room before nodding in approval. "Nice digs," he remarked as he shrugged off his pack. It wouldn't take him long to change his shirt, at least. "Where's the cap'n at now?"

"He's out at the minute, jus' for a ride." Cotton sighed. "That's the other thing about bein' his valet. I've spent all me life out o' doors an' it's hard to get used to bein' inside a house all the time, even a house as fine as this one."

"S'prised I din't see him out anywhere as I was comin' up." Ah well. Newbury shucked out of his coat and managed to peel off his shirt. It felt good to be rid of the dirty linen. He turned it inside out and used it to quickly pat his torso dry before unfolding his clean shirt.

"Could've gone for his land agent or somethin', y'know," he remarked and pulled the clean shirt on over his head.

"Yeah, could've." He grinned. "You don't need me nurse-maidin' you, do you? I'll be back out in the kitchen seein' about some food for you. An' keeping the kids out of the way, else they'm likely to come bargin' in without so much as a by-your-leave."

"Obliged," Newbury told him gratefully.

"S'all right, mate. Oh, you'll b needin' this - unless you've got your own?" He pulled out a travel-stained canvas roll, unfastening it to pull out a razor and comb, which he left on the side before he slipped out of the room to go hunting for food.

"I haven't - cheers." His old razor had been worn down to the point of useless. A good shave was definitely in order now that he was properly dressed again.

Upstairs a window slammed shut. It's two parts bounced off of each other at the force, opened again, slid closer and then the door of the very same room closed itself with a similar force as well. Outside the wind took a different course alongside the the building and some chickens were heard panicking, bursting into a loud orchestra of sound.

"You're welcome," Cotton said and slipped out to return to the kitchen to see what he could find in the way of food for his old friend.

Fresh bread and butter, a couple of hard-boiled eggs and some cold chicken from last night's dinner seemed to fit the bill, and he got a fresh mug of tea for him as well, trying to ignore the kitchen maid's scandalised expression. She'd learn, one day - supposing Joe did get a place here, and Cotton couldn't believe he wouldn't, not with the Major being the way he was.

He balanced plate and mug and knocked on the door. "You want this food in there, or out here?" he asked.

Jenny approached him in the passage. "Oh, it's you, Cotton. I was looking for Maggie. I was just outside and I wasn't sure... are the chickens supposed to be squawking all like that? I hope it's not a fox."

"Chickens?" Cotton looked at her in confusion. "Not likely to be a fox, not at this time of day." He knocked on the door again.

"I'll come out there," Newbury replied, using his dirty shirt to dry off his freshly-shaven face. "Best get used to it again and all."

It felt good to be dressed cleanly and shaven. He scratched at his newly trimmed side whiskers and took care to stuff his dirty shirt and trousers into his pack before departing Cotton's room.

"Oh but don't that look prime," he added and eyed the plate hungrily. Jenny's arrival, however, distracted him. "Don't think it could be a fox, this close to the house. Maybe."

Cotton pushed the plate and mug into his hands. "I ought to go an' see what's what, then. Find yourself a seat in the kitchen - or there's the servant's hall just there." He pointed at the door. "Foxes my foot. Reckon it's Jack an' Peggy." And if if was, they were going to get a good talking-to.

"Cheers."

Newbury paused a moment, his hands filled with the plate and mug, and glanced uncertainly at Jenny. Something wasn't quite right about her but he couldn't think what. Not that it probably mattered. The offer for her to join him died on his tongue and instead he simply shrugged and headed for the servants' hall.

So Jenny was left with Newbury while Cotton went off to investigate. She was not used to feeling awkward around someone. She was about to tell him that she would go and find Maggie, but he was already heading off to enjoy his food. Well.

The chickens threw a fit, for a while longer, and then finally seemed to begin to settle. Above, the half closed window caught wind again, and again made that distinctive sound of the frames of each window clashing against each other. The curtain was caught inbetween, a part of it flowing over the window sill.

The source of the chicken's distress however, had disappeared. The only reminded, being a few broken branches of the low bushes, a few fallen leaves and some dirt thrown up in a messy array of marks on the ground.

Cotton headed outside to see what was going on. There was a window banging in the wind and several leaves that had been torn from the bushes by the wall. He frowned. That wasn't a fox, not with those marks. The chickens had settled again, which was good, but Cotton didn't like the look of those tracks near the house - and at this hour. He could understand it at night, but now?

The window banged again and he turned to go inside to close it properly and see if anything was missing.

Maggie was already on her way. She was walking through the passage to the room in question when she turned and saw Cotton coming on the same errand. "Did you leave a window open? I didn't think anyone had been in there today. Must've been Peggy coming to see the looking glass again. I've told her a dozen times..."

This was, Newbury thought, the best meal he'd had in weeks. Bread and butter - both fresh, no less! - with chicken, not to mention the rare treat of eggs... if he hadn't been hungry, he might have considered it an indulgence. There were definite perks to living in a great house. He'd forgotten this was one of them.

He had polished off the bread and half of the chicken before guilt, which had been sneakily growing, got the better of him. It was stupid to have left Jenny standing there. Had he really gotten to be that bad?

"Miss Jenny," Newbury said cautiously, returning to the passage. Was she even still out here? "There's some chicken and an egg left in there, if you're hungry."

"It's Mrs. Jenny, actually," she said coolly. "And no. Thank you. I'm not hungry." And she turned and headed up the stairs after Maggie. It was time to see more of the house, after all.

Mrs. Somehow, Newbury managed to keep all expression off his face. So. That was hadn't been right. He bit his lip and looked down at his shoes. Well. So much for that.

His appetite thoroughly gone now, he retrieved the plate and mug, and carried them back to the kitchen. Suddenly he wasn't sure that it was a very good idea to take on here.