Tapestry; a tale of empire
Finally, finally, Sev came home today. I met him at the door and he kissed me for all the servants to see, and I made him sorry about that later. He never could be proper, my Sev. And then he just had to see the children immediately, never mind that they’d been clamoring to see him all morning and that they had lessons to complete, oh no. He swept into their room like a whirlwind and left devastation in his wake. He and Pang played soldiers on the good carpet using inkpots and paint-pots from the twins’ lessons. Pen, at least, was a good child and continued with her painting. She’s doing a rendition of her birds in watercolor and she’s really quite good. I’ll be able to dismiss the painting teacher if ever Pang becomes sufficiently proficient to pass in polite society.
After that was supper, a rowdy affair, and I left early with Pen. We spent the remaining hours of the evening in the garden. I worked on my accounts and Pen, bless her heart, did sums in imitation of me. I must get her some proper logbooks to practice with.
I think I must talk to Sev tomorrow morning about our accounts. He’s due a bonus after all his hard work in the campaigns, and if he gets one then we’ll be able to afford a house slave for general work, which will lessen everyone’s load considerably. Pang is too young for a footman and too old to play on his nurses’ apron strings, and his tutors complain of being expected to watch him. A boy to watch Pang and run errands would be just the thing. The question is, of course, if Sev will allow it. I think so. If he has earned a bonus then he’ll want to forget about it as soon as possible. It would be just like him to throw the money at the church or some other ill-advised thing, but if I get to him before he even gets the bonus, I can get my slave. It will be such a relief to be free of his calligraphy teacher’s constant whinging. The man can paint, but the man is a terrible person. It’s too bad he came so highly recommended. Perhaps that’s why Pang progresses so slowly in the arts, dislike for his teacher.
I must to bed, in case my darling husband gets the worst for drink and decides that tonight is the perfect time to visit my chamber. It wouldn’t do to find me doing something so unladylike as writing.