“—once we’ve closed this deal, whatever the army does with the milk soap afterward is no longer any concern of yours.”
“Of course. I’m only responsible for delivering the goods and collecting payment, I won’t ask how you choose to dispose of your own property.” No need to worry about that, Mary had neither the energy nor the curiosity to spare.
The potatoes had already been resold once before, it was only natural that the milk soap would end up the same way, if that’s what this was.
Compared to where the milk soap ended up, Mary was actually far more curious what price the army would resell it at. At two pence a bar, she stood to make 3,000 pounds a year. If the army doubled that to four pence, or even higher, they’d end up earning more than she did!
Tsk, tsk, this was even more lucrative than the potatoes had been. After all, potatoes came in only once a year, while milk soap could be delivered every five days.
“Mr. Richard, see you in ten days.”
Leaving the garrison, Mary headed straight home. Thinking ahead to next year’s planting, since potatoes were proving more profitable, she’d cut back on wheat. Doubling her own household needs would be about right, since taxes still had to be paid on it.
The rest of the land would go to potatoes, along with planting chamomile and lavender. Even though the soap-making didn’t need them yet, it never hurt to prepare in advance. Herbs, once harvested, could be dried into flowers that would keep for a long time without spoiling. Rosemary, better suited for winter, would be planted right away, and next year’s mint patch would be expanded even further.
The household’s fifty pigs had been thriving lately, thanks to all the leftover cracklings from soap-making feeding them. In another month, they’d likely put on quite a bit more weight.
Thinking all this through, Mary was in good spirits.
Her next small target was matching Mr. Bingley’s 5,000-pound annual income, and doing the math, that goal wasn’t far off now. Within a year at most, she’d surpass it.
Arriving back in Longbourn, Mary got down from the carriage. She’d barely steadied herself before she saw the other Mary come running out of her house in tears, and as she passed, she even shot Mary a fierce glare!
What was she doing here? How did she dare come back? Had going to Derbyshire made her bolder somehow?
Or was it—
Oh, of course, Mr. Ethys, her nominal husband, must have come back. That would explain it!
Mary saw him standing in the parlor, and seeing him again, she still felt a flicker of something in her chest. There was no helping it, good looks came with their own advantages. But he didn’t seem to be in the best mood, likely something to do with the other Mary who’d just run off.
Even in a bad mood, though, the man simply looked handsome in a different way, which did nothing to stop Mary from taking a couple of extra glances.
“Ma’am, you’re back.” The plump steward spoke up right on cue, even coming forward to take Mary’s cloak as she removed it.
“Yes, back home. When did you two arrive?” Since someone had offered to take it, Mary didn’t hesitate to hand it over. As for the other Mary running off, she decided not to bring it up, no need.
“We just arrived a little while ago. Mary, may I make a suggestion?” Octavius, seeing his wife, noticed how much better her mood was compared to his own, even the gloomy, rainy weather outside hadn’t managed to dim her smile.
Being called by her name so suddenly still felt strange to Mary, and yet she couldn’t very well correct him. Wasn’t it perfectly natural for a husband to call his own wife by name? If he kept calling her “Miss” or by title, what would people think if they overheard it?
“Go on, then.” Mary silently repeated the name “Octavius” a few times in her head, quite the mouthful. For now, she still couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.
“I’d like to put up a fence outside, with an extra gate, so people can’t just wander in whenever they please.” He’d only just arrived, and already that girl who shared his wife’s name had come chasing after him. Listening to what she’d been saying, were unmarried young women these days really this forward?
“Fine, but since it’s your idea, you can see to it yourself.” Piecing things together, Mary quickly understood exactly where this suggestion had come from.
“All right, I’ll leave it to William, then.” Having solved one problem, Octavius’s mood lifted slightly. “I brought something back for you, take a look.”
Mary didn’t expect it to be a full set of pearl jewelry, and far more dazzling than the set she’d bought herself. The pearls were bigger, and their luster was on a completely different level.
“It’s beautiful, but we already agreed, I won’t accept gifts like this.” Just looking was fine, Mary certainly wouldn’t accept it.
“I know, I’ll keep it in my room. Of course, if you ever need it, you’re welcome to borrow it.” A contract was a contract, but Octavius had plenty of ways to work around its terms.
“I doubt I’ll be borrowing it much. Still, this is a small village, aren’t you worried about it being stolen?” Nothing like that had happened in Longbourn in a long time, but who could say for certain?
“Who would dare steal it? Would whoever’s planning to try want to end up on the gallows? Because I’d happily see them there.” Speaking of which, Octavius remembered the two men he’d left behind. “Where are Thomas and Henderson?”
“They kept insisting on helping, so I sent them to fetch pork fat from the slaughterhouse.” Entirely their own choice, she certainly hadn’t forced them.
“Fetching pork fat from the slaughterhouse?” He’d only been away a little over a month, what on earth had happened here?
“That’s right. I’ve renovated my workroom, so I need a much larger supply of fat now.” With demand up, someone had to go collect it. The household had added a cargo cart, making the round trips manageable enough.
Well, fine, since he’d left the men behind, it was her call what to do with them.
“Speaking of which, I still haven’t seen your workroom. Would you mind if I took a look?” With the heavy rain outside, Octavius had no wish to sit around by a stuffy fireplace.
“Betsy and Molly are busy right now, let’s start with the third floor.” Those two had mentioned to her that they weren’t quite comfortable being around him, worried it might give people the wrong idea. There was no real need to worry, but if it helped them work with peace of mind, Mary was happy to accommodate them.
Every room on the third floor had long since been cleared out and cleaned, now it held only the milk soap and mint soap currently curing, arranged according to when each batch had been made.
“This room’s about to ship out, in ten days, part of it will be cleared.” Opening the door to a room labeled with last month’s date, Mary gave a heads-up. “There’s quite a lot in here.”
“Quite a lot” turned out to be a rather modest way of putting it. In Octavius’s eyes, this was an enormous amount!
Even before the wedding, he’d known Miss Richman made handmade soap to sell to London merchants. But hadn’t she said the quantity was small at the time?
What he saw before him now was stacked layer upon layer, piled impossibly high, far too many to count!
“Mary, this is well beyond anything I imagined.” He had to admit, it was quite an impressive sight, Octavius found himself involuntarily starting to count.
With just the two of them on the third floor, hearing his own name called out once more, even though it was such an ordinary name, Mary still felt a little self-conscious about it. Fortunately, he was too absorbed in counting to notice.
“I’ve lost count, roughly how many are there?” He blinked, trying to remember which layer he’d been on. They all looked the same, so he simply asked outright.
“A bit over 6,000.” Everything stored here was from the batches made on October 26th, 28th, and 30th, more than she’d originally expected.
“That’s an awful lot. Have you already found buyers for all of it?” If not, perhaps he could help.
Octavius turned to look at her, he’d been away too long, and even in this marriage in name only, he wanted to be of some use. And just a moment ago his wife had said only part of this would clear out in ten days.
“All arranged. It goes out in batches. It might look like a lot now, but it moves fast enough once the time comes.” Mary closed the door, the other rooms all held soap made this month, and she’d only opened the door for him to peek in, without letting him enter.
“Ah, good then.” For reasons he couldn’t quite pin down, Octavius felt a small pang of disappointment. Heading down to the second floor, he went straight to his room, saying he needed to rest a while.
“Get some good rest, see you at dinner.” Once he’d disappeared into his room, Mary finally headed to the workroom herself.
She’d gone to Meryton today and hadn’t gotten to make any mint soap, that needed catching up on.
“Betsy, Molly, I’m back.” Before anything else, she had good news to share. “Don’t worry, I’ve settled the terms, by the end of the month, our milk soap will be shipping out steadily. So there’s no need to fret anymore, just focus on making the soap.”
The two of them had been growing more anxious lately about the rising stock, worried it would all pile up unsold.
“That’s wonderful news!” Even as they spoke, both women’s stirring picked up pace a little.
“By the way, my, my husband’s back.” The two of them working in the room probably didn’t know yet.
Too caught up in their tasks to respond, they weren’t the type to come crowding over for gossip anyway, earning money mattered more. Betsy and Molly exchanged a glance, then turned their attention right back to the saponification vat.
Seeing they had no further response, Mary simply got to work herself. For the time being, she was still using the old tools, since mint soap was better suited to warmer weather and wasn’t urgent. But new equipment would need to be brought in soon enough. Once the milk soap supply to the army stabilized, she’d buy it.
November had turned to winter, and darkness came earlier now, though fortunately the lard had already been rendered in advance and just needed reheating, saving a great deal of time. Before nightfall, over 2,000 bars of milk soap had already gone into their molds.
“All right, you two don’t need to keep me company, go on and see to your own tasks. If you happen to see my husband, tell him I’m here.” Mary waved them off, she’d started making soap a bit late today and it still hadn’t fully saponified.
“Understood, Mary.” Betsy pulled Molly along, and the two soon vanished from the workroom doorway.
Hearing that his wife was still in the workroom, Octavius came to have a look. He used soap too, but had never actually watched how it was made, today, he’d finally get to see the whole process at once.
“Knock, knock—” He knocked at the door and quickly heard a response from inside.
“Come in.” Who else would it be, coming around at this hour? Mary knew exactly who it was, which was why she hadn’t refused. He’d wanted to see it before, hadn’t he, well, come in and look, then.
Soap-making held no real secrets, the pork-fat soap formula was fairly fixed, with differences coming down to what was added and how skilled the maker was.
Mary had already examined all the standard soaps currently on the market, rough, uneven things, riddled with bubbles, sometimes with sharp, unattended edges, and yet they still sold for several pence apiece!
Octavius pushed the door open, and at first saw no one at all, only rows of wooden boards stacked layer upon layer on the shelves. On a nearby table sat many empty compartments, their purpose unclear to him.
“Mary?”
“I’m in here.” The lovely green liquid had already thickened, just a little more effort, and today’s work would be done. “It’s a bit messy in here, watch your step.” Hearing his footsteps, Mary gave a quick warning. As for the name, hearing it enough times, one got used to it eventually.
There she was, someone entirely wrapped up in careful, focused work.
Octavius saw his wife, though her face was covered with cloth and her hands with gloves. She held something in her hands, stirring it without pause.
“What’s this? It’s different from what I saw upstairs on the third floor.” That milk soap had been a lovely white, this fresh green looked entirely different, was it meant for a different purpose?
“This is mint soap, meant for use in summer, it leaves a cooling sensation afterward.” Color was one selling point, effect another, combined with the improved molds and packaging, the price would naturally run a bit higher too.
In reality, though, once everything was averaged out, the cost still came to under half a penny!
Ah, mint, no wonder the color looked so lovely.
“So how much longer do you need to stir it?” It looked exhausting, the man was almost tempted to step in and help.
“Not much longer, another fifteen minutes or so. No, don’t come closer, it wouldn’t do to get your clothes dirty.” Having changed after his rest, he was wearing something that clearly hadn’t come cheap.
Octavius stopped mid-step, that same feeling washing over him again, the sense of not being needed, of being kept at a distance. He knew perfectly well what kind of marriage this was, when they’d first agreed to it, it hadn’t bothered him at all. Now, though, he found himself with a touch of regret.