Chapter Three

The next morning Carrie was eager to apologise to Margaret at the first opportunity, which thankfully came early as they awoke around the same time.

“I'm sorry about what I said last night.”

“Don't be,” Margaret said. “My father informs me that you were right.”

“I'm sure you'd like Mr Thornton, if only you gave him a chance.”

“It will not be easy,” Margaret said with a sigh. “Manufacturing is a rough business and his stance of being at war with his workers is one that I simply cannot agree with, but as I said to father, I will try to be more understanding at future meetings.”

That was enough for Carrie, at least for now and she set about her morning routine.

Her toothbrush was made from a bone handle with badger hair bristles and her toothpaste was a mixture of bicarbonate of soda and chalk. It tasted foul but she supposed it did the job. Thankfully she had managed to acquire a little peppermint oil and before dabbing her brush in the powder, she added a few drops of oil to the bristles. It was no Colgate but it was better than nothing.

After she had dressed, she headed down to breakfast and chatted with Mr Hale until Mrs Hale and Margaret joined them. She did not tell them she was seeing Mr Thornton about a job today because she felt it was better to present it to them as a done deal. She also did not want to jinx herself because whatever this job was, she did not have it yet.

When Mr Hale asked what their plans for the day were, Margaret informed him she was going to see Bessy, the young girl she had met from Princeton. Carrie told him she was planning to taking a walk and exploring some new areas of the town.

Before she left she went back up to her room and pulled her handbag out from under her bed. She had not worn makeup since she had arrived here but today she felt that she needed a little additional courage. She dabbed a little concealer under her eyes, patted her complexion down with powder and added just a tiny bit of Mascara to her eyelashes. Makeup was not common here and if she wore too much, she would stick out like a clown in a church.

She got her jewellery out of her purse and considered wearing it since it also gave her courage. She had noticed, however, that gemstones were not common in this time and diamonds especially. So she left her solitaire earrings, ring and pendant in her purse and put on only the small amethyst earrings that her aunt had left her. She also sliped her horse broach into her purse though, so that it too was with her. It was her good luck charm.

When she remembered her aunt's words about the earrings, it had occurred to her that they might be responsible for this freaky situation she had found herself in and she had removed them immediately. It hadn't worked and though she had many theories as to why she was trapped in this fictional world, she still had no answers.

Finally ready, she put her makeup away in her handbag and slipped it back under her bed, along side her rucksack that housed her Uni books and laptop.

She began humming to herself as she walked to the mill, for music always calmed her. She missed her CD player. Her mobile phone had some music on and she did have headphones for it, but she knew she would quickly wear the battery down if she used it much so she settled for humming. Perhaps one day she could afford a piano, then she could play all her favourite music.

As she approached the mill she grew nervous and she paused outside to wipe her damp palms on her skirt.

“Wish me luck,” she said softly to her aunt, looking to the heavens. Then she took a deep breath, mustering as much courage as she could, and strode through the mill yard and into the offices.

Mr Thornton's door was open and as he heard her enter, he came through to greet her ushering her into his office and closing the door behind them.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I'm fine, thank you. I hope you're not still upset about last night?”

“I am not,” he confirmed. “But I should not have snapped at you, it was not you I was upset with.”

Knowing that he hadn't liked it when she defended Margaret last night, Carrie didn't try again and let the matter drop. Mr Thornton gestured to the chair opposite his desk and Carrie sat down.

“So, Mr Thornton, what is this job you have heard about?”

“Actually you would be working for me.”

“For you?” She hadn't counted on that.

“Is that a problem?” he asked, sounding hurt at her surprise.

“No, not at all. I am just... well I am a little surprised that you require someone. I had been led to believe that your mill was as efficient as it could be.” Okay, that wasn't strictly true but she had to cover her surprise somehow. The truth was that she was already madly in love with Mr Thornton and working with him every day would be torture.

“We are, but I find that the office work is running behind in some areas. It would be helpful to have someone to do the tasks I haven't found the time to do.”

“Of course.” she smiled. “What kind of tasks did you have in mind?”

He got up and showed her piles of paper work that were sitting on various filing cabinets and tables.

“These are paid invoices, these are unpaid, these are correspondence, these are tenders awaiting replies, these are potential orders awaiting a bid, these are receipts for supplies and deliveries, these are filled orders, these are unfilled orders and these are correspondence from various sources that need replying to but that I haven't had a chance yet. As you can see while there's a basic order, it still takes me a while to find things because I haven't had a chance to organise it.”

Carrie thought she could handle that.

“The rest will be on an ad hock basis. You'll be an assistant to me rather than a clerk, so I might ask you to do anything from running to the bank to signing for a delivery or taking the letters to the post office.”

“I think that's within my capabilities,” she smiled.

“Good,” he smiled back and went to sit back down at his desk. “Now, down to details. As to hours, I was thinking nine until two every day and a wage of eight shilling a week.”

“Eight shillings?” she sounded incredulous.

“You were hoping for more?” His tone was hard.

“No. Eight shillings is twenty pounds a year for only five hours work a day! It's far too much.”

Mr Thornton relaxed slightly.

“I believe a clerk working full time would be paid in the region of fifty pounds for such duties.”

“A man perhaps, but I am working half that time and I am a woman.”

“I believe that to be a fair wage for the job,” he said, though he knew it was higher than she would be paid anywhere else. Still, if she was competent and capable, he saw no reason not to pay her the same as a man.

“That's very generous of you,” she said, desperately trying to find a way not to offend him with her next words. “However I would like to make it clear that when I asked for your help, I wasn't looking for a hand out.”

“Nor am I offering one.”

“Good, because I am not a charity case and while I think you are a very generous and kind man, Mr Thornton, I have no desire to be in your debt.”

“You won't be,” he assured her. “As I said, that is a fair wage for the job.”

Carrie stared at him for a few moments, trying to gauge how truthful he was but his features were unreadable.

“Remind me not to play poker with you,” she softly.

Mr Thornton smiled.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked her.

Carrie nodded then stood up and held her hand out.

“We do.”

Mr Thornton shook her hand and relished the contact, however brief. He held on for a moment longer than was acceptable but finally he felt he had no choice but to release her.

“So, when do I start?” she asked.

“As soon as you'd like, the work is just piling up.”

“I'll start now then.”

And just like that she got to work. She cleared the boxes off a table in the corner, dragged the chair over to it and set about sorting the various papers.

She soon discovered that the filing cabinets were unused for a reason, because they were full. She began sorting the older files for storage in boxes. Any paperwork that was over three years old was going into storage, though she labelled each box well so that things should be easy to find if they ever were needed. Finally having freed up some space, she organised the piles of papers , first into date order. Those less than two months old she made into new pile, the older ones she arranged alphabetically to be filed away.

Mr Thornton tried to get on with his work, and for the most part he was successful but every now and again he would look up to see her industriously sorting his office out and a smile would play at his lips. Absorbed in her work, she never looked over at him so he took the opportunity to examine her for a while.

She was an odd looking girl by 18th century standards of beauty, but to him she looked perfect. Her features were strong rather than delicate, but as they were each so perfect in his eyes, he found that strength only highlighted her beauty rather than detracted from it. Her hair was a very light shade of chestnut and her eyes were emerald green.

Just then Williams knocked and said that he was needed on the floor. One of the looms had broken down but the tuner was already repairing it and thought it would take half an hour to fix. Satisfied, John left him to it and returned to his office but as he opened the door he heard Carrie utter a word no lady should even understand, let alone use.

“Oh bollocks!” she exclaimed as she began searching through her piles of paper.

Though he should have been offended, he found that the sound of such an elegant creature uttering such a profanity was immensely funny and burst out laughing.

“What?” she asked, turning to him.

“Nothing, just your colourful language. I take it you don't speak like that around Mr Hale?”

Carrie blushed a deep red. She had been trying so hard to remember the rules of this society but she hadn't been thinking and it had just slipped out.

“Sorry. Sometimes I say things I don't mean.”

“Don't apologise, I find it rather endearing. Though I am curious about where you heard such a vulgar term.”

“In Spain. It was quite a common curse out there.” Poor old Spain had become the excuse for anything she couldn't readily explain.

“This Spain you speak of sounds like a very unusual place. Nothing at all like my sister describes.”

Damn, she'd forgotten that his sister liked The Tales of the Alhambra.

“Yes, well they don't put things like that in books, do they?”

Mr Thornton thought he detected a lie but he couldn't be sure.

“No, of course not,” he agreed.

Carrie returned to her work and nothing more was said about it. The day wore on and Carrie kept working. John kept expecting her to need a break and when the lunch whistle rang, he was certain she would want lunch, but the only thing she asked for all day was where she could get some water.

Finally at 3pm he drew her attention to the fact that her five hours were up for today.

“Oh,” she seemed surprised, and maybe a little reluctant to finish her task. “I was on a roll,” she said.

“A what?”

“Oh, um, I suppose it's when you've mastered a task and are moving along at a good rate and if you're interrupted it takes you a while to get back up to full speed.”

“Nevertheless, I can't have Mr Hale accusing me of overworking you, can I?”

“Oh, heaven forbid!” she teased.

“You will tell him, won't you? I don't want to keep secrets from him.”

“Of course I'll tell him, I intend to start paying rent, or room and board, whatever it's called, and I expect he'll be a little curious where I'm getting my money from.”

“Good. Then I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Nine o'clock sharp, boss!" She put her shawl on ready to leave but remembered something. "Oh, I'll need some stationary supplies as well, files, dividers that kind of thing. How can I get those?”

John got up and went to the safe, opening it.

“There's a stationers on Mabel Lane.” He handed her a note. “They open at nine so stop in before you come here.”

Carrie was gradually getting used to the pricing here and had a fair idea what things were worth, but some objects were (relatively) much more expensive that they would have been in her time, and paper could well have been one of those things but still, she suspected that he had given her far too much but she couldn't be sure so she took the notes and folded them into her small purse.

“I'll get receipts, of course,” she assured him.

He had meant to tell her that and once again he was forced to wonder how a lady had any idea that receipts were necessary for all business expenses. He supposed she might have gained that knowledge while learning how to run a household from her mother, but he suspected that wasn't the case.

“Have you worked before?” he asked, because really, she had taken to her task with far too much ease.

“Every summer since I was sixteen,” she smiled. She chose not to mention that she also worked two nights a week in a bar just off campus. She thought that kind of work would be frowned upon in these times.

“Why summers?” he asked.

“It's when I was off school,” she said before she realised that women in these times didn't go to school, they had governesses who taught them at home. “I mean, that's when my brother was off school, we usually worked together so he could keep his eye on me.”

“Was your father in trade?” he asked, for surely no gentleman would allow his daughter, or son for that matter, to work during the summer holidays.

“I suppose,” she hedged. She wondered if being in trade was a good thing in his eyes or not. “He had a sort of import business, though it was more of a hobby than anything.”

Her father had imported British produce to Spain for the ex pat population and she used to work in the office when she went to visit him every summer. That wasn't how he had made his money though, he'd been retired in Spain and he had only started the new business because he missed his local produce while living out there. His main business when she was young had been car dealerships. He'd owned a Jaguar, a Mercedes and a MBW dealership in London.

Unlike her mother, who thought that money should be married, her father had had no compunction about his daughters earning their living. The brother she had mentioned was fictional.

“That's very progressive of him,” Mr Thornton said.

“Yes, well things were easier in Spain.”

“I thought Spain was a Roman Catholic country; very traditional in it's views.”

“Well, yes, I suppose they are.” How was she going to get out of this one? “But I was unmarried, you see. It's fine for a woman to work until she gets married.”

“Right.” He knew something was off with her stories, he just didn't know what. “Well, I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes. And thank you again, Mr Thornton. I really appreciate this.”

"My pleasure."

Carrie breathed a sigh of relief as she left the office. She suspected he knew that she was lying about her past, but she was keeping as close to the truth as she she could without sounding insane. She could hardly say that she was from the future, could she?

She gathered her wits about her once again and was about to walk out of the yard when she felt eyes on her and turned to Mr Thornton's house. Mrs Thornton was standing at the window, staring at her. She didn't look away as Carrie spotted her and though she tried to stare the other woman down, it was Carrie who looked away first.

She suddenly didn't envy Margaret one jot, because having her as a mother in law really was a cruel and unusual punishment.

She made her way out of the yard and decided that she would visit the stationers today rather than tomorrow morning, that way she wouldn't lose any time tomorrow and could crack straight on.

Speaking of cracking straight on, she really had to try harder to cut down on her use of modern vernacular.

She arrived at the stationers and purchased some card files, some index cards and other general office supplies but the closest thing she could find to an inbox and outbox were wooden letter trays. She supposed they would suffice though and bought four of them, though they were a little expensive. Since they were also rather bulky items she asked for everything to be delivered to Marlborough Mills. Then with her receipt and very little change in hand, she headed home.

For the first time since she had arrived, she felt relaxed. Finally she had a purpose, she was doing some good by being stuck in this place, and she an income which gave her a sense of independence.

Mr Hale was in the middle of a lesson when she got home but she brought him some tea as soon as the lesson was over.

“Ah, how lovely,” he said as she set the tea tray down on his desk. “How was your walk this morning?”

“Actually I wanted to talk to you about that.”

She poured their tea and once they were settled in the chairs by the fire in his study, she began.

“I didn't go for a walk this morning. I went to see about a job.”

“You're leaving us?” he sounded surprised.

“Actually no. Well, that is if you don't mind me staying here.”

“You are a most congenial addition to our family, Carrie. You will always be welcome here.”

“Thank you.” She blushed. “Anyway, the job isn't a governess position or anything like that. I am helping out at Marlborough Mills, in the office with administration,” she hastened to add. “And just for five hours a day.”

“Well, that is unusual work but I suppose if it gives you pleasure.”

“It does. It also means that I have an income now and I would like to give you a portion of it.”

“You don't need to pay for your room, Carrie. Besides, you don't even have your own room, you share with Margaret.”

“True, but if I am a member of this family, then my income should benefit this family, no?”

“Well...”

“Please, Mr Hale. You and your family have been so kind taking me in and looking after me, but I know you cannot really afford one more mouth to feed. Let me help. My wage can not only save you the allowance you give me, it could pay for another servant to help Dixon. I know you don't like Margaret and I helping her as much as we do, so use this money and employ help for her.”

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?”

“You can't,” she said, smiling.