Winter had come early this year—so Beatrice discovered on that chill November morning. At first the young maid sought to keep it out by hiding in her sheets, but not a minute later she was wide awake and out of bed, shivering in her nightgown even as she hurried out of her room and down the hall to her master's, slippers shuffling rapidly over the wooden floor. She slowed only once the door came in sight,and calmed herself down before quietly opening the door.
Inside she found the bed empty, as it always was—the thing was far too big for an inchling, and though Jonathan did sometimes like to climb on it and make of the pillows his bed for a while, in the evenings he always preferred to sleep in his own room—the one sitting by the window on the dresser, a tiny thing like a dollhouse that held just about everything an inchling needed to be comfortable. Beatrice stopped beside it to peer into the little windows, but the curtains were drawn tight and she could see nothing through them. “Master, are you awake in there?” she whispered, and waited for a response, pulling her nightgown tightly over herself and holding her legs together to stop the cool morning air from blowing between them. A second later she heard a quiet shuffling inside, then the door opened up and Jonathan appeared with his blanket wrapped around him, shivering but grinning all the same. “G-good morning, Beatrice,” he stammered out before sitting down in the doorway. “S-seems it's time to b-break out the candles.”
Beatrice pursed her lips, but kept her opinions on the most appropriate warming methods to herself. She pulled open a drawer and grabbed one of the many short and stout candles that filled it, setting the little glass jar down on the dresser near her master. While Jonathan shuffled closer to the candle, she grabbed a matchbox from that same drawer and struck it, setting the candle alight and then shaking the match to put it out. Then, Beatrice stripped the case from a human-sized pillows and it them up around the candle, so that Jonathan could climb up on them and lie against the glass to bask in the warmth of the soft flame. He still shivered for a while, but less and less frequently until a few minutes later he stopped altogether. Beatrice almost sighed in relief, though she herself still was still shivering a bit.
Jonathan curled up with his blanket. “Thank you, Beatrice. You may go now,” he said. Beatrice bowed her head and left for her room. A few minutes later, she was out and warmly dressed in a thick woolen dress, heading to the kitchen to make breakfast and some tea.
Meals in Jonathan's household were by and large a simple matter. Beatrice cooked for both of them, which in practice meant she cooked for herself and picked out some morsels to share with Jonathan. Since she was the only servant in the household, there was little time to spare on making rich and elaborate meals. Breakfast today, for instance, was an egg with some sausages on the side and a couple slices of lightly-toasted bread. Simple, but tasty and filling enough.
Once it was ready, she left a kettle heating on the stove and visited Jonathan's room, where her master still lay by the candle. At first she thought he might be sleeping again, but at her approach he turned to look at her through half-closed eyes.
She told him that breakfast was ready, and waited to hear if she should carry him to it. “Do you still have that carrying pouch that you bought last month?” he asked instead. Beatrice had to think back for a moment before she remembered the one he meant of. Yes, she still had it. “Bring it over, will you? Stuff it full of something warm and carry me in it.”
Back in her room again, Beatrice found the pouch in question at the very back of her sock drawer. The sight brought back memories of the day she'd bought it, and for a moment she held it tenderly against over her chest for a moment as though it still contained her master.
She headed back after stuffing a sock inside it, and held it open for him. Once he'd climbed inside, she put it on around her neck and left for the kitchen, where the kettle had already started whistling.
Beatrice quickly got everything in order, setting down a plate and a cup of tea for herself before letting her master down on the table, next to the smaller, inchling-sized one that stood near her seat. There he had his own plate and utensils, and when she presented him with some choice morsels from her plate he picked them out of her spoon and served them on his plate. At the same time, she moved her cup of tea closer to him so that its heat might help keep him warm, though not so close to be uncomfortable. Jonathan thanked her for the meal and started eating. She was delighted to see him growing hale and hearty again with each new bite he took.
“It occurs to me,” he said a while later, his voice finally back to its usual tenor, “that I didn't thank you properly for your help this morning. You didn't have to hurry over so early for my sake me, but you did. I'm really grateful for your service, Beatrice.”
A light blush spread over her cheeks, but she kept a straight face and tried to hide it with a sip from her teacup. “If you really wish to thank me, you ought to listen to me this winter instead of brushing me off like you did last. There are better ways to keep you warm than the candles and fireplace.
Jonathan winced. “Now, you know you can't always be there to help with something like that. You have your work and I have mine. It wouldn't be comfortable for you to spend all day tending to me, and I wouldn't feel right asking you to do it either.”
“You're certainly right about that, sir. I don't propose that you stop using the candles and the fireplace altogether. But you shouldn't rely on them exclusively if you can make use of something else.”
“Ha! That's quite a way for a maid to speak to her master.”
“Now, you know it's not like that at all, sir. I don't mean any harm by it; I simply worry for you. Can't one even be allowed that much?” Beatrice kept her voice level, but there was an edge to her tone. She noticed it, and cut herself off at once before continuing in a more appropriate voice. “Besides, you remember what the doctor told you after last winter. You know what all that smoke does to you.”
“You're right, of course. Don't feel sorry, I know you're only worried about me,” he sighed. They both resumed eating in silence, and it was a few more bites of their meals before Jonathan spoke again. “Speaking of last winter, do you still remember the idea I floated by you back then?”
Beatrice took her time to chew before answering. “You mean the shelter idea, sir?” Jonathan nodded. “I take it that means you want to go through with it still?”
“I reckon that's up to you, Beatrice. I can't hire anyone else for this. It would be more work for you, but I'd raise your salary to compensate. And it would only be for the winter months, of course. You don't have to give your answer right away, but–”
“No, it's quite alright, sir. I'll do it.”
“You will? Excellent! I really must do something to thank you, Beatrice.”
“I believed I already mentioned how you might thank me, sir.”
That took care of Jonathan's grin very quickly indeed. Had he really thought she'd forget just because he tried to change the topic? “Well... I suppose I can try it at least once, and see how it goes. Mind, I make no promises I'll agree to try it again. Remind me on my next day off and I'll try and make some time for it. Does that satisfy you?”
Beatrice smiled. “Very much so.”
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
Beatrice and Jonathan deal with winter's arrival.