GOOD MORNING, JANE!
Jane deLacey awoke suddenly out of a dreamless
sleep. She didn’t know where she was
other than not in her own curtained bedstead in deLacey Hall.
She sat up and looked around and the memory of the previous
day came flooding back. It was true, she
had been supratemporally transmigrated from her home in England in 1594
to . . . where had she been told this was?
Kisco Hills, New York, in 1904.
Her recollection of yesterday was a sensory blur; ten little
girls about her own age talking to her with such an odd accent and so many
unknown words that she could barely understand what was said, their manner of
dress and the decoration of the house were outlandish, and she saw many things
that she didn’t know what they were. It
had been overwhelming and exhausting.
She had been seated at dinner with them, and strange food put in front
of her, but she had been too distracted to eat, although she drank several
glasses of lemonade. She had been given
a nightgown and night cap, and one girl, Bailey, had offered her the spare bed
in her room. She had fallen asleep as
soon as her head hit the pillow.
Jane determined that she would be brave and face whatever
fate had handed her like a deLacey! She
was the daughter of a great lord who was a favorite of Queen Elizabeth, and she
herself had been received by the Queen at court. She would boldly face anything and be a
credit to her name!
But more immediate needs concerned her, and she turned her
attention to the commode by her bed.
Bailey was awakened from a pleasant
dream by a loud shout, “Slops!”, a distant splash, and the sound of the window
being closed.
She sat up and turned to Jane who was standing by the
window, an empty chamber pot in her hands.
“Jane?” she asked, “did you just
empty the chamber pot out the window?”
“Yea,”
replied Jane, “I did cry slops.”
“So you
did. But we don’t pour the chamber pot
out of the window here.”
“Whate’er
does one else? I am told there are no
servants to this household, therefore methought I needs must empty it m’sel’”
Bailey took
a moment to translate that in her head; life with Jane might prove to be a
challenge. She took a deep breath.
“You empty it into the slop jar,
rinse it out with water from the pitcher, empty that into the slop jar, then
carry the jar down the hallway to the water closet where you pour it down the privy, flush it away, rinse it
out under the faucet in the tub in the bathroom next door, then bring it back up here and put it away.”
Some of what Bailey described made no sense to Jane, but she replied, “Such
elaborate means to but a simple end!
Mine is the easier.”
“Maybe, Jane, but it is not good
for the roses under the window, and the neighbors downwind wouldn’t like it
after awhile.”
Jane agreed
this made sense.
Bailey rinsed out the chamber pot
and put it away.
She picked out a nice, new frock from the wardrobe. “Come, Jane, I’ll teach you how to dress
yourself, and then we’ll go down to breakfast.”
When they arrived in the kitchen, they found Leah standing at the stove, stirring up a pot of hot chocolate, and tending a skillet full of scrambled eggs.
Jane approached the stove with
wonder. She reached out to touch it, but
felt the heat and drew back.
“La! What a marvel is this!” she
cried. “I have seen little brass stoves
for heating small rooms, but never one that does in place of an open hearth!”
Leah beamed, “It is quite efficient
for cooking, Jane, you can control the heat, it doesn’t smoke, and uses very
little fuel.”
“And it
keeps the kitchen cozy warm in the winter.” Bailey added.
“Cozy?”
Jane had never heard this word before.
“But what would
you like for breakfast, Jane?” asked Leah.
“For brek .
. . Oh! To break my fast?”
“Yes, Jane,
you may have whatever you like.”
“Then,” said Jane, “I would like that which is my favorite
mete to break my fast, sops in hippocras!”
Bailey and
Leah looked at each other. “What is
that?”
Jane was
surprised, “Know you not so simple a dish?
It is but toasts in hot, spiced wine.”
“We can
make you some toast,” said Leah, “but the wine we have is only for medicinal
purposes and very special occasions.
What else would you like?”
“Then shall I have that with which I am used, a pint of
small beer and half a manchet loaf.”
“Beer?”
asked Leah, “for breakfast?”
“Yea, small
beer, for my governess doth say ‘tis not physic to drink strong ale before noon, especially for children.”
“Well, we don’t have any beer at all. How about some hot chocolate?”
“Never have
I heard of this.”
“It’s very
good,” said Bailey, “rich and sweet, and it will pep you right up!”
“Pep?” Jane
was making mental notes of all the new words she was hearing.
Leah explained, “It’s made from a kind of spice powder,
ground from large seeds from Mexico
. . . New Spain. We mix it with sugar and milk, and it’s yummy
delicious.” Leah had a sudden
thought. “Can you drink milk?”
“Milch? Of
kine?”
Leah
thought a moment. “Yes, milk of cows.”
“In sooth,
that I can, for I was weaned from my wet nurse on milch of kine, and oftimes to
the dairy did I go of a morning, and there the maids would give me warm, sweet
cream as a favor. But my brother, when
so e’er he doth milch drink it engendereth the flux in his bowels most
speedily.”
“Then you must have some hot chocolate, Jane,” said Leah,
“and here is what else we have this morning, scrambled eggs, toast, and ham
slices.”
“An egg
dish for to break fast? And pork? These are metes for a feast! In what sumptuousness do you live!”
“You can
have more than this, if you wish, Jane,” Leah went on, “We can make you a
cheese omelet (a fancier egg dish), blueberry muffins (they’re like small
cakes), or Saratoga
potatoes (they’re like . . . well, they’re salty and crunchy).”
Jane was definitely hungry, and ready for some breakfast.
“Verily, I shall have some toasts and some hot joccalette.”
“You should
have something more than that, Jane,” admonished Leah, “you’re a growing girl.”
“I shall have
a slice of pork, an I may. I do so love
pork, and delight in it at all times!”
“Very well,
Jane,” said Leah, “On the sideboard you will find cups, plates, and tableware;
you will have to help yourself.”
Jane chose a pewter tankard from the top of the sideboard,
and passing over the silverware, took up a large, sharp kitchen knife. Leah ladled hot chocolate into her
tankard. Jane dunked the toast into the
chocolate and ate the sodden end.
“Mmm!” Jane
smiled, “Sops in joccalette! This likes
me well!” Then she took a slice of ham
with her fingers and put it on her plate.
Holding it down with one hand she cut off a piece with the big knife. She picked it up with her fingers to eat it.
“I do love pork!”
Leah’s proper Edwardian middle-class sensibilities were
shocked. “Heavens!” she exclaimed, “We
must teach her how to use a fork!”
Bailey, who
had helped Jane into her clothes and engaged her in close conversation,
replied, “Yes, but first we need to teach her how to use soap and a
toothbrush.”
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