History Lessons (2 page)

Had any of them really known Warren Ellis, then they would have realized there was no need to urge him thusly.

Warren was a history scholar for a reason - he loved and longed for the past. Sometimes, when he was surveying the scene of a historical site like Hargrove, while he was watching women and men in period dress milling around he wished it were real. He hated modern times, hated what "progress" had done to society. Traditions, manners and morals had done nothing but decline with each passing generation, and each new year brought a feeling that he was more disconnected from the past he longed for.

Warren knew his feelings were unusual, and while he got along well with most people, his unorthodox mindset had been a major roadblock in his quest to find a wife, which - besides the past - was the only thing he really longed for. Modern women were a frustrating enigma. Why were they, he wondered, so eager to forsake the roots of femininity, to turn their back on chivalry and the sound guidance that traditional male leadership offered. Back in the day, a woman trusted her husband or other male family members to decide what was best for her, to protect her. She even willingly submitted to physical chastisement, knowing that her husband, brother or father only had her best interest at heart.

For several years he thought he answer might be to seek out his female counterpart - a historian who was willing to live the values that modern society had rejected. But Warren quickly learned that the academic females who caught his eye considered history exactly that - history - and had no desire to return to a lifestyle where they depended on a man.

Frustrated, Warren spent several years playing the rake and bedded any number of beautiful coeds and even a couple of grad students when he served as visiting professor at a university in London. But the role was not who he was, and he was plagued with guilt for acting beneath what he knew was his character. Two years ago, he returned to courting but after a year had even abandoned that when he realized he'd exhausted his pool of suitable prospects.

It helped to throw himself into work. If he couldn't create the kind of life he wanted to see in this current time, he would have to settle for making sure his little slices of history were served up with a side of accuracy. And what he was seeing at Hartford House did not square with what he wanted.

Warren Ellis stalked back inside and walked into the office, groaning as he did so. In his mind, the only acceptable piece of technology besides the telephone was the computer. But the other things Beatrice Steelman had added to the office would have to go - a television sat on a corner table and a coffee pot on the shelf under that. On the wall was a plaque featuring an old-fashioned car under which was written the words, "I may be slow, but I'm getting there."

"Slow indeed," he growled and snatched the picture off the wall as he reached for the wastebasket. Tossing the plaque inside he walked around, purging the office of any other sign of his former director's historically heretical style.

The pail as nearly full when he heard a tap at the door. Warren looked at the clock. It was almost one, too early for the meeting he had scheduled with Hartford's livestock manager, whom he'd summoned for having a flock of historically inaccurate sheep that didn't even exist in Colonial times.

Sighing, he put the pail aside and walked to the door. When he opened it, he frowned to see the upstart little maid who'd dared to make light of his assessment earlier that morning.

"Miss Primm, if I recall correctly?"

"Um. Yes." Lucy dropped to a short curtsy, hating herself as she did. But she was convinced to get the demerit removed from her record.

"Do you need something?" Warren didn't even try to hide his impatience.

"Yes," she replied. "A word?"

Warren generally dismissed staffers who came by without an appointment, and later he could not really pinpoint exactly why he bade entrance to the diminutive brunette. Perhaps it was the curtsy, or the way she'd said, "A word?" in that halting, respectful tone. But a second later he was stepping back from the door and ushering her in, even if it was with a continued air of agitation.

"Very well," he said. "Come in then. But whatever you need, please be brief Miss Primm. I've got a busy day."

Lucy looked down at the wastebasket stuffed with the former director's things, her eyes conveying that she didn't see the urgency in cleaning an office. But she didn't yet know Warren's quirks and just as quickly dropped her eyes to the tips of shoes that peeked from underneath her skirts.

"I just wanted to talk to you," she said. "About this morning."

"What about it?"

"The demerit you gave me, Mr. Ellis. I think it was most unfair."

"Do you?" He asked the question dismissively, to send the message that he really didn't care what she thought.

Lucy frowned. She got the message loud and clear and after less than two minutes in Warren Ellis' office, silently pronounced him a Complete Ass. But still, she knew she had to try harder.

"I do," she said. "I have no problem with rules, Mr. Ellis, and from what I understand there will be many more soon. But I do believe you should let us know what those rules are before you punish us for violating them."

Warren, who had picked up a
TV Guide
off the desk and was looking at it like it was a filthy porn magazine now stopped to regard his visitor.

"Are you telling me, Miss Primm, that you were unaware of the prohibition on adornment, makeup and visible tattoos before you showed up for work this morning?" He tossed the
TV Guide
into the trash.

"No, no sir." she admitted, angry at herself now for misstating the question. "I mean, yes, I was aware that we're not allowed to wear jewelry. But this morning my son was being contrary when I was trying to get him on the Pre-K bus and...."

"What happens outside of Hartford House isn't my concern," he said abruptly. He turned to her. "Miss Primm, I want to be very clear about something. I do not strive for excellence, I demand it. And I will brook no disobedience from those under my charge. And that means you. Now, you may have found amusement in my disdain for your breaking of the rules this morning, but I assure you I found nothing honorable about such a dismissive reaction. Even without being told, you should already know that laughing in the face of authority is wrong. Or did your parents never teach you that?"

"My parents died when I was a baby," Lucy replied.

Warren stopped mid-diatribe. "Well," he said. "I'm quite sorry to hear that."

Warren sighed and put the trash can down on the floor. "Perhaps you are right, Lucy. Prior management here was permissive, too permissive. You and the others here will find in me a stern head of operations who expects excellence and authenticity in everything. The demerit system is a good tool and I probably should have let you all know what the new penalties would be for breaking the rules."

"So you'll remove the demerit?" she asked hopefully. "Because, Mr. Ellis, I can't afford to lose my job..."

He paused, considering. "I will if you acknowledge that you erred doubly by mocking me."

Lucy did not feel that she had mocked him, but had to admit to herself that she had screwed up by laughing.

"Yes sir," she said.

"Very well." He stood and walked to the door, opening it. "The demerit is removed. And you are free to finish out your day."

Lucy curtsied, breathing a sigh of relief as she did so. "Thank you, sir," she said and moved to the door. But as she was exiting, he stopped her.

"Miss Primm."

She turned back. "Sir?"

"You should know there is a price for my generosity. I see in you a streak of wilfullness that bothers me. Please be advised that I will keep my eye on you, and do whatever it takes to quell that streak should you reveal it again. Do you understand?"

Lucy felt a chill go through her - chill mixed with kind of tingly, fluttering buzz that felt strangely like a perverted excitement. Her cheeks colored up at the sensation and she used her final curtsy to turn away so her blush would go undetected.

"I do, sir," she replied and, hearing the click of his office door shutting, scurried off on shaky legs to find Missy.

Chapter Two

"So what's he like?" Missy looked at Lucy as if she expected to relish the information far more than the sandwiches they were eating on the bench under the towering oak tree by Hartford House. "Is he as creepy in private as he was in the front hall?"

It was the day after her encounter with the new director of Hartford House, and Lucy swallowed the grape she was chewing as she pondered the question.

"Creepier," she said, and then felt guilty for the slight. Mr. Ellis had, after all, removed the demerit even if he did accompany the gesture with a cryptic threat of what future disobedience would bring.

"No, that's mean," she said. "He's not creepy so much as quirky. Maybe it's a historian thing."

"Mrs. Steelman wasn't like that?"

Lucy shook her head. "Mrs. Steelman wasn't a historian," she said. "This guy has a Ph.D. or something. When I was in his office I saw his diploma."

"Dr. Quirky," Missy said, pretending to sound impressed. "Wow."

Lucy laughed in spite of herself, then turned serious. "Whatever his reasons, though, he is a stickler for details, Missy. So we'd better watch ourselves."

"That's right," Missy said, dropping her voice to imitate their new boss' deep tone and shaking her finger at Lucy. "Because if you get one more demerit, young lady, it'll be to the woodshed with you."

Lucy laughed again, this time nervously, her mind wandering back to her visit with Mr. Ellis. He'd said he'd see that she obeyed, no matter what he had to do. What in the hell had he meant by that. She had a sudden image of the new director dragging her by the arm to the woodshed and the image was so silly she was soon laughing along with Missy.

"That's what's going to happen if we don't finish up." Lucy said, and stood to make sure that none of her lunch things were left lying around. She could only imagine Mr. Ellis walking by to find the Spongebob sandwich box she's accidentally stuck in her back instead of Kegan's lying on the bench.

"So what's next?" she asked Missy.

"Bayberries."

"Bayberries?"

"Yes." Missy stood, brushing bread crumbs off her apron. "Apparently Mr. Ellis almost had a full-out stroke when he found that paraffin as being used to make candles. He wants us to do it the authentic way for the next demo, so get ready to be covered in deer fat and bayberry wax, because that's what we're making the candles from."

"You're kidding," Lucy said.

"Nope," Missy replied. "Karen Dawson heard him tell Jenny Tesh."

"Ugh," Lucy said. "That'll smell good."

"At least you won't go home blue," Missy said. "The spinners are going to have to use natural dyes, including indigo."

"Wow."

The women walked up to the house, ditching their lunch sacks in the barrel that discreetly served as a trashcan by the door. Lucy nearly jumped when she saw Mr. Ellis standing in the doorway. She felt a stab of nervousness. How long had been standing there? The bench was just a few feet down the path. If he'd been standing there for more than a few minutes he would have overheard everything they said.

Missy and Lucy dropped into a rapid curtsy, adherence to another new rule. "Live as if walking through the doors of Hartford House were equivalent of walking through the door of a time machine," he'd told them at that morning's meeting. Mr. Ellis' eyes had lingered on each staffer as he'd passed them by, looking - and probably smelling, she thought - for anything out of the unusual whether it be the tiniest ear studs or a tell-tale whiff of Obsession or some other now-forbidden scent.

His eyes had lingered longest on Lucy. "One of your colleagues appealed to me yesterday to lay out the rules in advance before I handed out demerits for breaking them," he'd said, and while he didn't name Lucy she guessed that everyone knew she was exactly who he was talking about. "So to avoid misunderstanding I've had the rules printed. There are some new ones among them, including one banning cell phones from the premises. So please advise anyone who may need to contact you through work hours to go through the receptionist. And, of course, it should go without saying that such calls should be for emergency purposes only."

Lucy and Missy had cut eyes at one another before Lucy turned her gaze forward again. This, she thought, was patently unfair. As the only staffer with a small child, it gave her some measure of comfort to know that Kegan's daycare could call her immediately if there were a problem. Now she'd have to rely on Judy, the ditsy receptionist, to get her the message.

"This new rule starts now, this instant," Mr. Ellis said. "After our morning meeting you'll go back to your vehicles and put your phones up. If I hear one ring, it will be two demerits."

His eyes scanned he line of employees and interns. "Understood?"

Everyone nodded and when the meeting broke up they all walked to their cars.

"Insane," Lucy had said as she walked to Missy's car and watched while her friend tucked the pink Hello Kitty phone into the glove box.

"Yeah, but I'm not taking any chances," Missy said. "I'd probably get five demerits for having a Hello Kitty phone."

"Actually a Hello Kitty phone with a Fort Minor ring tone gets you ten demerits." The women were giggling again, but as they walked back, Missy stopped.

"Aren't you going to put your phone up?" she asked.

"Hell no," Lucy said defiantly. "I'm not about to trust that Judy the Bimbo to get me my messages. What if something happened to Kegan?" She began walking back to the house. "Besides. For all we know by the time we get back in he'll have banned the office phone, too."

Missy ran to catch up with her, clutching Lucy's arm. "Wait a minute. Think this through. If he catches you and adds two demerits to the one he said he was conditionally removing then you're..."

"...screwed." Lucy finished. "Yeah, I know. But I'm going to keep it on vibrate inside my apron where no one will know it's there but me."