Free Magic Below Stairs by Caroline Stevermer

were better off with thunder and lightning, Hetty.”
    â€œI hope you never find out different.” Hetty set the coat aside. “Now, let’s see about your breeches.”

8
    IN WHICH FREDERICK LEARNS WHAT HE HAS BEEN MISSING
    The morning after Hetty finished the alterations, Frederick found six dried peas in his boots. His first impulse was to look for a snickering footman. When he found no sign of any, he went to Bess for advice.
    â€œSo it happened again, did it?” Bess smiled, but somehow Frederick didn’t mind it when she showed her amusement at his actions. Bess was different. When she snickered, he did too.
    â€œThis time”—Frederick held out his hand to show her—“it was peas.”
    â€œI’m to fetch Mr. Grant a dozen fresh eggs,” said Bess. “Come along with me.”
    As they made their way down the lane to the home farm, Frederick thought about the peas and beans. Not much to be fretting over, a few peas and beans. It made him miss Billy Bly all over again. Peas and beans were harmless enough, after all. “Do you still think I should forget about it?”
    â€œI know you should forget it.” Bess swung her basket to emphasize her words. “Take no notice. Unless you want whoever it is to go to more trouble and make a greater mess.”
    â€œWho do you think did it?” Frederick persisted. “Do you think it was the same one who spilled milk in the kitchen and left it to go sour?”
    â€œOh, I don’t know.” Bess tugged at his sleeve. “If you don’t pick your feet up a bit more, I’ll be late.”
    â€œI can’t go any faster, not without stepping in a cowpat.” They had come to a particularly smelly bit of footing. Frederick felt he was completely entitled to choose his way with care. “Let alone the sheep droppings.”
    Bess didn’t slacken her pace. “Oh, don’t be such a dandy. You clean your own boots every night, no matter what. Just this one time, they will need it. That won’t kill you. Come on!”
    As he was cleaning the manure off his boots later, Frederick remembered the exchange with Bess. He wondered what he was going to find in his boots the next morning. Better than simply ignoring whatever it was, Frederick thought, would be making it more difficult for the other servants to meddle with his things. Frederick went in search of Mr. Kimball to ask for permission to sleep elsewhere in the future.
    â€œThe servants at Skeynes are quartered in the attic,” said Mr. Kimball. “Where else would you wish to sleep?”
    â€œWouldn’t I be more use to his lordship if I were close at hand?” Frederick asked. “Somewhere near his bedchamber? I can make up a bed for myself in a corner of his dressing room.”
    Mr. Kimball thought it over. “Very well. You may sleep in Lord Schofield’s dressing room, provided you keep an eye on the fire in his lordship’s bedchamber. You wouldn’t credit how it can smoke at times. There must be something wrong with that flue.”
    Lord Schofield’s dressing room was just off the room where Lord Schofield usually slept. With luck, Frederick thought, he might learn a bit more about the curse on that bedchamber. “I keep seeing fresh soot in the grate of the dressing room fireplace in the mornings. I think there must be a bird’s nest somewhere up in the flue.”
    â€œPossibly.” Mr. Kimball frowned. “I’ll send for the sweep at once.”
    As good as his word, Mr. Kimball had the chimney sweep in the very next day. As the maids had predicted, the soot was dreadful. Nothing of interest was found anywhere in the chimneys, not so much as a bird’s feather, nothing to explain any problems with the flues. By the end of the week, the last of the general household soot had been dusted away and cleanliness restored. But by Sunday morning, Frederick found fresh flecks