Housecleaners
Jul. 13th, 2008 02:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tanarillI don't hate them as a group. I just hate the ones we have, because they don't seem to understand the concept of the ten-minute sheet change. Instead, they remove the sheets from my bed, wash and dry those sheets, and then replace them. I'm not quite sure how to explain to them that I leave clean sheets on the bed for a reason, and the reason is not so they can be put pack in the closet.
Title: Maru-Raba
Fandom: Taming of the Shrew
Rating: G
Warnings: Snipyness
IV.
Petruchio's villa was not one of the grand new villas that, for example, the ducal families had started building recently. It was large, but not very tall, instead being a two-story building with six wings, surrounding two courtyards. The first courtyard was an open U-shape, and the wing on the right as one rode in was entirely composed of stables. The wing on the left looked, to Katharina's practiced eye, to contain its own brewery, winery, dairy, and probably other such necessities with would be impossible in the city but practical in the country.
The rest of the house was build in the Roman style, open-air galleries surrounding an enclosed courtyard. One had to walk outdoors to move from room to room. The side of the building closest to the entrance was mostly vaulted atrium and variously sized storage and sitting rooms. The ground floor of the wing closer to the dairy contained such necessities as a kitchen and scullery, plus additional storage. The other two ground-level floors were bedrooms, outrageously sized by city standards but comfortable by those of the country. The upper level, with its covered galleries, contained more rooms, and evidenced by the many, evenly spaced doors.
All this Katharina observed while Petruchio ranted and made outrageous demands of his staff, who looked on more in amusement than fear. She only saw that Stallion was put in one of the best stable boxes and that the hand knew how to rub down a tired horse, and also that this house certainly needed a woman. There seemed to be no end to manservants, but no maids at all.
She spent most of the ensuing storm holding back her laughter. The oddest thing, though, was that none of the servants seemed to care about sparing her gentle disposition. Of course, they'd-probably-never seen a gentlewoman before and didn't know ho to act. This was good thing, as she wouldn't have to retrain them how to act with regards to her. And she learned some interesting cursing, when the men around her either didn't know or didn't care to censor their speech.
Katharina managed to contain her mirth until they made it to the bright, airy room on the second floor that Petruchio owned to. Quietly, so as not to be heard over Petruchio's lecture, she asked, "Where is my bedchamber?"
Petruchio immediately went off on to another ramble about how a dutiful wife slept by her husband's side, and that he would therefore see her sleep in no bed but his own, and . . .
"All the time?" she asked, incredulous. Her mother's old room, now Bianca's, had been close to her father's certainly. But not the same.
Petruchio, who was by now having trouble keeping a straight face, started talking about the duty of good wives to be obedient and faithful to their husbands in all things, and if he wanted her in his bed every night, why shouldn't he and that was about the time Katharina kissed him.
She really hadn't thought about the mistress Petruchio was undoubtedly hiding somewhere on this estate, except with a sort of resignedness. Only it appeared that he didn't have one, and if he planned to sleep in the same chamber as she every single night, much less the same bed . . . Katharina kissed him again.
"Help me get out of this, or I'll catch a chill," she said, referring to the muddy, still-wet dress she had changed back into at the boundary of the estate.
"I would certainly hate it if my Kate were to fall ill so soon. 'Twould be a poor omen."
"And," said Kate, "then you can warm me up."
Petruchio shut up and did as he was told.
Katharina woke up the next morning feeling pleasantly exhausted, which had previously been an oxymoron to her. Petruchio was giving another speech. That was the worst part of the Plan, although Petruchio had insisted that he could keep going with little to no sleep for several days, and so certainly one night was not an issue. She hadn't found it difficult to get to sleep like that, though. Something in her found it . . . soothing.
They breakfasted on cold rolls from Petruchio's saddlebag, and then played chess. Katharina won, but thought it hardly fair as Petruchio had been up all night. Then Petruchio suggested that he give her a full tour in the light of day.
The villa, as it turned out, had a fine old history, having been built sometime during the Crusades as a hospice to pilgrims. Several local noble families and the Church had supported it, but as the Crusades dragged on, support dwindled. Finally, one of the original families had outright bought the place and converted it into a manor home. It had changed hands several times in the ensuing centuries, but it had been in decline when Petruchio bought it. "And it still is," he added. "I really need someone who knows how to manage a house and the attached farms. Isn't it lucky you're here now?"
"I'll need to see the accounts," she said, primly.
"By all means, dear Kate," he said, and led her to another room, which had a very heavy and new-looking lock. She'd bet it was the kind that was really hard to pick, too. Entering the room, Katharina stopped and stared; it had to be the single largest library she'd ever seen. Of course, most of the books turned out to be the old villa records, but even so, there were several shelves of useful books that she's never seen before. And two very remarkable books.
"What are these?" she asked, showing them to Petruchio.
"That's the Bible," said Petruchio, "and that's a book of philosophy."
"One, you don't know Latin, how could you possibly know that, and two, I meant that I have never seen this kind of book before. How was it made?"
"Ah," said Petruchio. "Those are some books created by printing press. I made an investment in a certain group some years back, and it has been profitable."
Katharina had, of course, heard of the these printing press things, but hearing it was entirely different from seeing rows and rows of neat, perfectly formed little letters. She stared at the books for a moment, and then looked at her husband. "I own a Venetian glassworks, you own a printing press. What we will do together."
Petruchio kissed her again.
That afternoon, he took her for a ride around the villa farm. Most of the farm was vineyards, acres and acres of them. The rest of the fields were used for necessary crops such as wheat and barely. Katharina had seen only modest wine presses at the villa, so she had to wonder where all that wine was being made-and where the profit was going. The account books had simply stopped when Petruchio purchased the farm, but the yards were obviously well-tended. In short, the farmland was not in decline; the villa was.
She didn't have any problem seeing the problems, either. Well, mostly one problem: Petruchio's men were all very well and good, but not a one of them was a farmer. She'd been introduced to them. They were basically seven more Grumios, which was to say, seven more dangerous men who knew how to fight even without the stilettos they carried. She was very happy they followed Petruchio, although they were a bit wary of her. Not quite sure how to treat the famed shrew, although at least when she yelled at them, they argued their causes.
In short, thought Katharina as she changed into her night shift and climbed into bed next to Petruchio, a generally productive day. It would take some time for her to set the farm to rights, and she was looking forward to it. Certainly more than she was looking to returning to the city in a few days to prove just how "tame" she was.
Petruchio interrupted her thoughts by kissing her behind her ear, and whispering, "Is my Kate cold again tonight?"
Kate laughed, and turned over to meet him kiss for kiss.
No, srsly. First I had to look up the design of early Italian villas, then all about printing presses, then whether or not Verona is a wine region in Italy (it is). There was also some stuff about whether or not Italians were practicing serfdom that late in history. I am acting as if this is taking place in the early 1500s, around Shakespeare's time. Last time, I went looking for pre-tomato Italian recipes, some of which looked really good although sticking your hand in the sauce to see if it's ready is kind of disgusting. And so if anyone feels like giving me authentic details etc, I'd love to have them.
Title: Maru-Raba
Fandom: Taming of the Shrew
Rating: G
Warnings: Snipyness
IV.
Petruchio's villa was not one of the grand new villas that, for example, the ducal families had started building recently. It was large, but not very tall, instead being a two-story building with six wings, surrounding two courtyards. The first courtyard was an open U-shape, and the wing on the right as one rode in was entirely composed of stables. The wing on the left looked, to Katharina's practiced eye, to contain its own brewery, winery, dairy, and probably other such necessities with would be impossible in the city but practical in the country.
The rest of the house was build in the Roman style, open-air galleries surrounding an enclosed courtyard. One had to walk outdoors to move from room to room. The side of the building closest to the entrance was mostly vaulted atrium and variously sized storage and sitting rooms. The ground floor of the wing closer to the dairy contained such necessities as a kitchen and scullery, plus additional storage. The other two ground-level floors were bedrooms, outrageously sized by city standards but comfortable by those of the country. The upper level, with its covered galleries, contained more rooms, and evidenced by the many, evenly spaced doors.
All this Katharina observed while Petruchio ranted and made outrageous demands of his staff, who looked on more in amusement than fear. She only saw that Stallion was put in one of the best stable boxes and that the hand knew how to rub down a tired horse, and also that this house certainly needed a woman. There seemed to be no end to manservants, but no maids at all.
She spent most of the ensuing storm holding back her laughter. The oddest thing, though, was that none of the servants seemed to care about sparing her gentle disposition. Of course, they'd-probably-never seen a gentlewoman before and didn't know ho to act. This was good thing, as she wouldn't have to retrain them how to act with regards to her. And she learned some interesting cursing, when the men around her either didn't know or didn't care to censor their speech.
Katharina managed to contain her mirth until they made it to the bright, airy room on the second floor that Petruchio owned to. Quietly, so as not to be heard over Petruchio's lecture, she asked, "Where is my bedchamber?"
Petruchio immediately went off on to another ramble about how a dutiful wife slept by her husband's side, and that he would therefore see her sleep in no bed but his own, and . . .
"All the time?" she asked, incredulous. Her mother's old room, now Bianca's, had been close to her father's certainly. But not the same.
Petruchio, who was by now having trouble keeping a straight face, started talking about the duty of good wives to be obedient and faithful to their husbands in all things, and if he wanted her in his bed every night, why shouldn't he and that was about the time Katharina kissed him.
She really hadn't thought about the mistress Petruchio was undoubtedly hiding somewhere on this estate, except with a sort of resignedness. Only it appeared that he didn't have one, and if he planned to sleep in the same chamber as she every single night, much less the same bed . . . Katharina kissed him again.
"Help me get out of this, or I'll catch a chill," she said, referring to the muddy, still-wet dress she had changed back into at the boundary of the estate.
"I would certainly hate it if my Kate were to fall ill so soon. 'Twould be a poor omen."
"And," said Kate, "then you can warm me up."
Petruchio shut up and did as he was told.
Katharina woke up the next morning feeling pleasantly exhausted, which had previously been an oxymoron to her. Petruchio was giving another speech. That was the worst part of the Plan, although Petruchio had insisted that he could keep going with little to no sleep for several days, and so certainly one night was not an issue. She hadn't found it difficult to get to sleep like that, though. Something in her found it . . . soothing.
They breakfasted on cold rolls from Petruchio's saddlebag, and then played chess. Katharina won, but thought it hardly fair as Petruchio had been up all night. Then Petruchio suggested that he give her a full tour in the light of day.
The villa, as it turned out, had a fine old history, having been built sometime during the Crusades as a hospice to pilgrims. Several local noble families and the Church had supported it, but as the Crusades dragged on, support dwindled. Finally, one of the original families had outright bought the place and converted it into a manor home. It had changed hands several times in the ensuing centuries, but it had been in decline when Petruchio bought it. "And it still is," he added. "I really need someone who knows how to manage a house and the attached farms. Isn't it lucky you're here now?"
"I'll need to see the accounts," she said, primly.
"By all means, dear Kate," he said, and led her to another room, which had a very heavy and new-looking lock. She'd bet it was the kind that was really hard to pick, too. Entering the room, Katharina stopped and stared; it had to be the single largest library she'd ever seen. Of course, most of the books turned out to be the old villa records, but even so, there were several shelves of useful books that she's never seen before. And two very remarkable books.
"What are these?" she asked, showing them to Petruchio.
"That's the Bible," said Petruchio, "and that's a book of philosophy."
"One, you don't know Latin, how could you possibly know that, and two, I meant that I have never seen this kind of book before. How was it made?"
"Ah," said Petruchio. "Those are some books created by printing press. I made an investment in a certain group some years back, and it has been profitable."
Katharina had, of course, heard of the these printing press things, but hearing it was entirely different from seeing rows and rows of neat, perfectly formed little letters. She stared at the books for a moment, and then looked at her husband. "I own a Venetian glassworks, you own a printing press. What we will do together."
Petruchio kissed her again.
That afternoon, he took her for a ride around the villa farm. Most of the farm was vineyards, acres and acres of them. The rest of the fields were used for necessary crops such as wheat and barely. Katharina had seen only modest wine presses at the villa, so she had to wonder where all that wine was being made-and where the profit was going. The account books had simply stopped when Petruchio purchased the farm, but the yards were obviously well-tended. In short, the farmland was not in decline; the villa was.
She didn't have any problem seeing the problems, either. Well, mostly one problem: Petruchio's men were all very well and good, but not a one of them was a farmer. She'd been introduced to them. They were basically seven more Grumios, which was to say, seven more dangerous men who knew how to fight even without the stilettos they carried. She was very happy they followed Petruchio, although they were a bit wary of her. Not quite sure how to treat the famed shrew, although at least when she yelled at them, they argued their causes.
In short, thought Katharina as she changed into her night shift and climbed into bed next to Petruchio, a generally productive day. It would take some time for her to set the farm to rights, and she was looking forward to it. Certainly more than she was looking to returning to the city in a few days to prove just how "tame" she was.
Petruchio interrupted her thoughts by kissing her behind her ear, and whispering, "Is my Kate cold again tonight?"
Kate laughed, and turned over to meet him kiss for kiss.
No, srsly. First I had to look up the design of early Italian villas, then all about printing presses, then whether or not Verona is a wine region in Italy (it is). There was also some stuff about whether or not Italians were practicing serfdom that late in history. I am acting as if this is taking place in the early 1500s, around Shakespeare's time. Last time, I went looking for pre-tomato Italian recipes, some of which looked really good although sticking your hand in the sauce to see if it's ready is kind of disgusting. And so if anyone feels like giving me authentic details etc, I'd love to have them.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-07-13 10:39 pm (UTC)Good luck with the story, and I hope you enjoy finding the details! It was a very interesting time.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-13 11:05 pm (UTC)I think that Pet's going to inherit now, because Kate's the elder and he's married to her . . . and Bianca's already got an incredibly rich husband. Would that be how it worked, or do you think the property would pass on to someone else if not specifically willed to Pet?
Also, I liked the idea of Pet being illiterate and also owning part shares in a printing company.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-13 11:17 pm (UTC)Pet would probably inherit, but I'm really not positive. I'm sorry, I know a lot about Shakespeare and about the early English Renaissance, not so much about Italy. Other than its placement as a cultural hub between Africa, the Middle East and western Europe thanks to the Mediterranean made it a prime location for "exotic" stories about foreigners. Taming of the Shrew not being one of those, really... it was prime English morals.
Italy's thriving and turbulent economy at the time being reflected by their businesses is interesting within this story, otherwise I can't speak to how it would have worked IRL at the time. ._.;
no subject
Date: 2008-07-14 03:41 am (UTC)