"It's nothing," she said, "It's my own fault. I stepped on a lady's gown." Her blush filled her pale cheeks. Pippa put her hand over her neck to hide the healing bruise. She sighed and looked down at her hand. "Thank you. I... I appreciate everything." She put distance between them, then, mostly because there was an awareness that niggled at the back of her neck. He was attractive in a way that she shouldn't notice...

"I frequent the library that is not far from here," she said, changing the subject so she would calm down. "I love to read. I wonder if I will find any books of recipes there." She didn't wish for him to spend money on manuals.

He was shocked, but also kind of relieved to hear that it was a lady who had attacked her. She seemed embarrassed about the bruise and it didn't look like there was any internal damage, and so he let it be and returned to his seat, pouring a cup of tea for himself. "That's a good idea. I'll drop by the library this afternoon. I had intended a visit. Now, since you're inexperienced and I'll have to get the laundry sent out, for now your payment will consist of room and board only. If I'm satisfied with the trial and keep you on longer and you gain experience, you will be paid additionally. Can you agree with those terms?"

"Yes, sir," she said softly, sitting back down and biting her lip. For a moment she was silent, and then she said, "I will do my best. As I said, I am a quick learner." She paused and thought about not burning food. She needed to stop thinking about it in general. "When do you wish for me to start? If you wish for today, just... tell me please where I can put my belongings and I will set to task. In truth, I don't mind starting right away, as it will give me something to do to occupy my mind."

Indeed, busy minds were less likely to think of woes and such. "I am grateful for this opportunity. Please do call me Pippa if that makes it any easier..."

He hadn't intended to continue calling her 'Miss' if he was going to hire her, but 'Pippa' was a more suitable name for a maid than 'Philippa'. "Pippa it is," he said. "You can begin today. The sooner, the better." Especially since she had a lot to learn, he thought, but he didn't say that. "I will show you around and show you your room."

He brought the tea to his mouth, to drink it quickly, but realized it would burn his mouth, and so he set the cup back down and got up.

"This way." He led her out of the office, through the waiting room, through a corridor, until they reached a little hallway with stairs and a door on the side. "Kitchen and scullery are through here." He opened the door. There's a door to the yard in the back of the scullery. Please use that to get in and out. The front door is for the practice. "We have no plumbing upstairs, so you'll have to carry water up and down, I'm afraid." That made him think. "Do you know how to use a copper?"

She followed him as instructed, picking up her carpetbag on the way and forgetting the rest of her tea. She gazed around as he gave her a tour, and then when asked about the copper, she was blank in the face. "N... No sir?" she replied with a question as if she had never heard of such a contraption before. She sighed then, wanting to cry because she was incompetent for such a job and he was gracious enough to hire her on a trial basis anyway. It wouldn't be hard at all to see that she was overwhelmed by the day.

"What is a copper? I am sure I can learn---" She needed to stop saying that since he had already hired her.

Tristan stared at her. And stared. And stared, for his mind was unable to process her reply. He didn't know what was more disturbing: the fact that a young lady who had surely used hot water her entire life to bathe and clean herself did not know where it came from, or the fact that he had just hired such a young lady as maid.

"Right..." he finally said, unable to hide how perturbed he was. "This way." He led her through the kitchen - a small space with grey tiles on the floor, old dirty white wallpaper on the walls, a table in the middle, a cooking range in the fireplace, and several cupboards and drawers - into the scullery. In was cold in there, the back door hardly keeping out the draught, and the copper not in use. He pointed at the stone structure beside the sink. "This is where your hot water has come from all your life." It was a bit mean, but he was rather shocked. His mother had never allowed them to ask anything of the servants that they themselves did not know how to do, and he was all the more grateful for the lesson now. "All the hot water - safe for drinking - is heated here, for personal hygiene, washing up, for laundry... There's space under the copper for a fire, and a hole in the outside wall for the smoke."

When he gave her that very long look, her face fell, even more so when he began to explain what it was. She could only say, "Oh..." rather thickly. Her eyes dropped from his and she said, "I wasn't allowed in the kitchen as a child because mother was afraid of me getting my clothes dirty. Ladies, she said, did not dirty their pretty frocks. I never liked that rule." And then she lifted her chin, hardening her expression some. "It doesn't matter now, I have no choice but to learn if I wish to eat or bathe, correct? I -will- learn."

Her words reminded him that the way she had been brought up wasn't her fault. And that she was desperate. He felt a little bad for how he had judged her (though he was still concerned about how his household was going to run smoothly with a maid who didn't know a thing about housekeeping). "Well, you'll get your frocks dirty alright. Speaking of which... you'll need aprons. I'll provide the first set. If I keep you on, you can keep them and I'll subtract it from your first wages." For he figured that if she was at the point of hunger, she had no money to provide her own aprons.

He led her back into the kitchen and opened the door to the larder. It wasn't very full: a sack of potatoes in a bin down below, two cabbages, a small lump of cheese, a loaf of bread, and some bacon.

She felt horrible. How could she not know what essential things were? She began to resent her upbringing more and more for making her helpless and alone when she should have been coming out to the world and possibly married with children on the way. "It won't bother me that they will get dirty," she said almost too quietly. She followed him back into the kitchen and saw him open the larder.

At the sight of food... ANY food... she began to salivate and her belly gave another rude growl as if to interject a point. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"I'll-," He stopped when he heard her stomach rumble. "I'll make sure the larder is stocked, we'll plan out the meals every so often, and I'll keep track of what goes out and needs to be replenished." That was a subtle hint for her not to steal from the larder. He would make sure that she had enough to eat, but he would not tolerate a servant who stole.

He took the bread and butter. "We'll eat before we continue." He brought the food to the table and then brought plates and knives from the cupboard and sat down. "Help yourself." He cut off a slice of bread and began to butter it.