from knowing yer place an’ keepin’ to it.”
“I’m sure she does,” Emily said. She dashed the cold water from the bowl onto her face and snatched the towel from the bed to rub it dry. It hurt her skin, but at least the roughness made her blood sing.
“I gotta be goin’,” Fanny said, turning to the door. “I only done ’alf me grates, and Bertha’ll be arter me to ’elp ’er wi’ ve tea leaves.”
“Tea leaves?” Emily did not know what she meant.
“On the carpet!” Fanny stared at her. “The tea leaves on the carpet to clean it afore the master and mistress comes down! Mrs. Crawford’ll ’ave me if I don’t get on!” And with a note of real fear in her voice she scuttled away. Emily heard her rapid feet along the uncarpeted passage and down the stairs.
The day was an endless whirl of one task after another. Emily began by cutting fine bread and butter and taking a tea tray to Veronica, pulling back the curtains, inquiring for instructions for bathing and dressing; then she did the same for Loretta and suddenly felt idiotically nervous. Her fingers fumbled and she nearly spilled the tea; the cup rattled and for a moment she was afraid she was going to knock it over. The curtains stuck and she had to yank them and her heart stopped as she had visions of the whole rail coming down on top of her. She felt Loretta’s eyes boring two holes in her back.
But when she turned round Loretta was busy with her bread and butter and had no interest in her whatsoever.
“Would you like me to draw your bath, ma’am?” she asked.
“Certainly.” Loretta did not look up. “Edith has already put out my morning dress. You can come back in twenty minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, and excused herself as hastily as she could.
When both the ladies were bathed and dressed Edith deigned to put in an appearance, so Emily had only Veronica’s hair to do, after which she was permitted to hurry down to the kitchen and take her own snatched breakfast. Then she was required to go back upstairs and help Libby the upstairs maid with turning out the bedrooms. Each room had to be aired thoroughly, and before this could be done the cheval glasses must be laid down so the draft could not knock them over and break them. Then in the freezing wind from the open sashes they turned the bottom mattresses, plumped up the middle ones, and thoroughly kneaded and pummeled the top feather ones till they were as light as souffles. Finally they remade the beds. The carpets were rolled and taken downstairs to be beaten only once a fortnight, and thank heavens it was not today. This time they only swept the carpets, dusted every surface, emptied and washed all the basins and chamber pots, cleaned the baths thoroughly and laid out fresh towels.
By the time they were finished Emily was tired and dirty. Her hair had fallen out of its pins, and Mrs. Crawford caught her on the stairs and told her that she looked a disgrace, she had better smarten herself up if she wished to remain. Emily was on the point of retaliating that if Mrs. Crawford had done a hand’s turn herself she would also look a little untidy when she caught sight of Veronica. Pale and tight-faced, she was walking quickly away from Loretta, and the butler with the morning newspapers freshly ironed, going across the hall towards the dining room.
“Yes, Mrs. Crawford,” Emily said obediently, remembering why she was there. She was so thirsty she could taste feathers in her mouth and her back was stiff from bending and lifting. But she would not be defeated by a housekeeper! This was the only place to discover who had killed Robert York and why—and who had pushed poor Dulcie out of the window to her death.
Already she had learned more about the characters of the two women than she could have in a month of social visiting. It was Loretta, not Veronica, who slept in shell pink satin sheets with pillowcases embroidered in self- colored silks. Either Veronica was happy with linen, or she had not been offered anything else. It was Loretta who had the expensive oil of musk perfumes in crystal and Lalique bottles with silver filigree stoppers. Veronica was more beautiful by nature’s gift, with her slender height and grace and those haunting eyes; but it was Loretta who was the more elegantly feminine. She bothered with the details of care, the perfume in the handkerchief and in the petticoats to waft to the nostrils as she moved, or passed, the taffeta to rustle and whisper as she walked, the many pairs of boots and slippers to match every gown and be shown in a glimpse under her skirts. Had Veronica not thought of these things, or did their subtlety elude her? Was there some reason for this difference that Emily did not yet understand?
There was obviously a strong emotional bond between the two women, although its exact nature still eluded Emily. Loretta seemed protective, guarding the younger and seemingly weaker woman after the grief of her widowhood, yet at the same time her patience was thin and she was highly critical. And Veronica resented her mother-in-law while appearing to depend upon her a great deal.
When they changed for luncheon after the morning’s outing, Emily was busy taking care of wet coats and soiled skirts, humping them back and forth to be dried out, brushed off, sponged and pressed—and she had both to do since Edith was missing again. She overheard a sharp exchange as Veronica’s voice rose and Loretta’s remained calm and cold in what was seemingly a warning. Emily tried to overhear, but just as she was about to bend to the keyhole the upstairs maid came by and she was obliged to continue with her duties.
Luncheon in the servants hall was called dinner, and Emily was caught out in misnaming it and received a curious look from the cook.
“Think you’re upstairs, do you, my fine lady?” the housekeeper said tartly. “Well, there’ll be no giving yourself airs down here, and you’d best remember it! You’re just the same as the rest of the girls; in fact, you’re not as good until you prove yourself!”
“Oh, maybe some gentleman acquaintance of Miss Veronica’ll take a fancy to ’er an’ she’ll become a duchess!” Nora pulled a face. “ ’Ceptin’ you need to be a parlormaid to meet dukes, and you ’aven’t got the looks for it. You aren’t tall enough, for a start. An’ you ’aven’t got the colorin’ either. Peaked, you are!”
“I don’t suppose there are enough dukes to go around anyway,” Emily snapped back. “Since even parlormaids have to wait till all the ladies are suited!”
“Well, I’ve a sight more chance than you ’ave!” Nora retorted. “At least I know my job; I don’t ’ave to ’ave a tweeny show me ’ow to do it!”
“Duchess!” Edith giggled. “That’s a fine name for ’er. Walks with ’er ’ead in the air like she already got a tiara on an’ was afraid it might slip over ’er nose.” She made a mock curtsy. “Don’t wobble yer ’ead, Yer Grace!”
“That’s enough!” the butler said with a frown of disapproval. “She’s done most of your work this morning. You should be obliged to her! Maybe that’s what’s wrong with you.”
