“It’s more than time!” the housekeeper added. “Seeing as you have both ladies to care for. Should have gone quarter of an hour since.”
“I didn’t know Edith would be taken with one of her spells again,” Emily answered back. “Although I suppose I might have guessed, seeing how often they happen.”
“I’ll have none of your impertinence!” the housekeeper snapped. “Watch your tongue, miss, or you’ll be out on the street without a character!”
“And there’s only one way to make your living then,” Nora added spitefully. “We all know what ’appened to Daisy. Not that you’d be much good at that either. You’re too thin, and you’ve no color at all.”
“And I should imagine you’d be perfect!” Emily returned instantly. “You’ve just the face for it. You’re wasted here— at least, I suppose you are.”
“Oh!” Nora flushed scarlet. “I’ve never been so insulted!” She stood up and flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Albert started to giggle and Libby slid down under the table again, burying her face in her apron. Only Fanny stared in horror; she understood the power of jealousy instinctively, and she had seen enough to be frightened of it.
Emily left the room on the crest of her victory, but she had only got as far as the doorway when she heard the whispers start behind her.
“She’s a bad lot, that one!” the housekeeper said sharply. “She’ll have to go! Mark my words. Airs above herself—trying to talk with a fancy voice!”
“Nonsense!” The butler was very quick. “She’s got a bit of spirit, that’s all. Nora’s been queening around here too long; time someone matched up to her. She’s just not used to having another girl as handsome as Amelia is.”
“Handsome! Amelia?” Mrs. Crawford snorted. “Thin as a tuppenny rabbit, she is, and all that pale hair, and skin like a dish of whey. If you ask me, she’s not healthy!”
“She’s a sight healthier than Edith!” Redditch said with evident satisfaction.
Emily closed the door on Mrs. Crawford’s gasp of temper, and went along to the green baize door and up the main stairs.
By the time Emily had laid out Veronica’s clothes and gone to Loretta’s room, Loretta was already waiting for her. For several minutes she merely gave instructions, almost absent-mindedly, then at last she seemed to make up her mind to speak.
“Amelia?”
“Yes, ma’am?” Emily heard the difference in her tone, something peremptory in it. Or perhaps she was anxious?
“Is Miss Veronica unwell this evening?”
Emily considered her answer for a moment. If only she knew more about Loretta and her relationship with her son. Had the marriage been arranged? Had Loretta selected Veronica? Or had she and Robert fallen in love, against Loretta’s wishes? Perhaps she had been one of those possessive mothers for whom no woman could have been good enough to marry her son.
“Yes ma’am, I think she was.” She must be careful. If Veronica herself said otherwise she would create trouble by betraying her to her mother-in-law and at the same time destroy the trust she needed in order to learn anything. “I didn’t like to ask her, in case I intruded.”
Loretta was sitting on the stool in front of the dressing table. Her face was grave, her blue eyes wide. Cascades of deep, wavy hair framed her perfect pink and white skin.
“Amelia, I must confide in you.” Her eyes met Emily’s in the glass. “Veronica is not very strong, and her health needs care, at times perhaps more than she realizes. I hope you will help me to protect her. Her happiness is very important to me, you understand. Not only was she my son’s wife, but in the time she has lived here we have grown very close.”
Emily was startled into attention. She had been mesmerized for a moment by the steady, almost unblinking gaze in the glass.
“Yes, ma’am,” she agreed hesitantly. Surely it was a lie—wasn’t it? Or could the violent emotion between them be a form of love, of dependence and resentment? How should she answer this? She must behave like a maid and yet not lose the chance to learn. Did Loretta already know about Pitt’s visit? Emily must not be caught in a lie, or she’d be thrown out and would fail completely. “Of course I will do whatever I can,” she said, smiling back nervously. “The poor lady does seem ...” What word should she use? Frightened—terrified was the truth—but of what? Loretta was watching her, waiting. “Delicate,” Emily finished desperately.
“Do you think so?” Loretta’s perfect eyebrows rose. “What makes you say that, Amelia?”
Emily felt ridiculous. She could not possibly respond with the truth; she was left with fatuous answers. Was she being tested for loyalty, to see if she would recount Veronica’s fainting that afternoon, which Albert had seen and might have reported? There was no time for judgment. She answered instinctively.
“She was overcome with a faint this afternoon, ma’am. It passed quickly, and she seemed quite well again afterwards.” That would not be so remarkable. Ladies did faint; tight stays, waists pulled into a handspan often made one ill.
Loretta stopped fiddling with the pins in the silver tray on her dressing table. “Indeed? I didn’t know. Thank you for telling me, Amelia. You have done the right thing. In the future you will tell me anything else concerning Miss Veronica’s health and inform me if she is distressed or seems nervous, so I may give her all the assistance I can. This is a most important time in her life. She is shortly to become engaged to marry a very fine man. I am deeply concerned that nothing whatsoever should jeopardize her happiness. You understand me, Amelia?”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” Emily said with a sickly smile. “I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“Good. Now you may dress my hair, and you had better hurry because you have Miss Veronica’s to do as well.”
