The Golden City

Lady Ferreira’s eyes had drifted to the window again. She rose in a cascade of brown silk and went to stare out at something beyond the glass. Oriana followed, but saw nothing out there save rooftops and the distant waters of the river.

The gray-haired butler had returned on cat feet, leaving a tea tray on the table. He touched Oriana’s elbow, bowed, and softly said, “Miss, I’ve been instructed to show you your rooms.”

She was being herded away. Oriana murmured her excuses to the lady and followed the butler out to the hallway. Lady Ferreira never seemed to note their departure.

“Will Lady Ferreira need me later?” Oriana asked.

The butler inclined his head. “I believe you’re to start in your position tomorrow, Miss Paredes. You’re to have the rest of the afternoon to settle in.”

It wouldn’t take her that long to unpack her few garments and press them. “May I walk about the house, Mr. . . . ?”

“Cardenas, miss,” the butler supplied. He waited for Oriana to retrieve her bag and hat from the table next to the doorway, and then led her along the main hallway toward an elegant stairwell that led up to the second floor. “The lower floor is all public save for the library,” he said. “Teresa will show you around this evening after supper. I assume you’d prefer a tray in your room tonight. . . .”

The butler went on, assuming various things about what she wanted. Since it was a butler’s job to be cognizant of the needs of the house’s inhabitants, she decided to follow his lead. She didn’t want to cause trouble and end up without a position again.

The main second-floor hallway stretched on for some distance, with doors leading off to either side. Bedrooms, she guessed. The stairwell up to the servants’ floor would likely be in the back. Mr. Cardenas surprised her by stopping at the first door on the left. He opened it and gestured for her to enter ahead of him. “Miss Paredes.”

Gripping the handles of her bag, Oriana stepped into the room.

It was far too grand a room for a servant, even an upper servant such as herself. The colors of the room suggested a man’s taste, all dark browns with occasional hints of burgundy. A stately bed occupied the far end, fine ivory drapes hanging from the posts. A small seating area lay to the right of the door, a leather settee and a low table hinting that the owner would have time to recline and read there. Two doors led off to the right, a dressing room, she supposed. “Um,” she began, “surely there’s some mistake, Mr. Cardenas.”

“No, miss. Mr. Duilio said to put you in here.”

“Thank you, then, Cardenas,” Oriana said, attempting to settle properly into her role in the household. If she became too familiar, it would be difficult to retreat later, and she might end up facing another footman who thought he could take advantage of her. Better to start off on the right foot. “Also, if it’s not too much trouble, could one of the maids bring up a tray? I didn’t have a chance for luncheon.”

The butler inclined his head. “Of course, Miss Paredes. Do you prefer tea or coffee?”

“Coffee,” she told him. “With cream.”

He bowed and left Oriana there, staring at the opulence around her. She licked her lips nervously. She didn’t understand the reasoning behind this elegant room and the courteous treatment she was receiving. Ensconcing her in this bedroom increased the likelihood that Mr. Ferreira intended a seduction. She couldn’t imagine any other reason he might place her in what must be a family room. But she wasn’t attractive enough to inspire some grand passion in a man she barely knew.

Worry made her empty stomach roil. Surely this can’t be his bedroom. No, the butler would not have treated her with anything approaching respect if his master’s designs had been so blatant. Even so, the room smelled masculine, with a hint of bay rum in the air. It wasn’t a room normally used by a lady.

Shaking herself, Oriana gathered her wits. She would need to find the toilet stand shortly, so she’d better start exploring. She set her bag and hat on the settee and went to investigate the entry nearer to the dressing area. It opened onto a small room that smelled still and unused.

The dressing room held a large armoire and a chest of drawers in a dark wood that matched the bed. When she opened the armoire, she found a quantity of clothing, clearly a man’s. For a fleeting second her worry that this was Mr. Ferreira’s bedroom returned, but the clothing hadn’t been touched recently. This was someone else’s room—abandoned.

Oriana backed out of the dressing room and cast a quick glance at that second door. It didn’t lead to the dressing area after all, so it must adjoin some other room, possibly Lady Ferreira’s. At least she hoped so. Bracing herself, she went and tried the handle. The door opened outward, revealing a stunning vista of white porcelain and polished brass.

She laid one hand over her gaping mouth. It was a bathing room. A private bathing room.

A skylight overhead illuminated the largest tub Oriana had ever seen, easily large enough for her to lie down in—almost six feet long. It had to have been custom made for this house. The brass fittings, for hot and cold running water, gleamed as if they’d been polished that afternoon. A soft rug in pale beige covered the tile floor, and thick ivory towels waited in a set of shelves against the far wall, next to another door that must conceal a water closet.

Amazed, Oriana leaned down and ran her fingertips along the cool lip of the tub. A collection of brass boxes and delicate bottles clustered on one side of the vanity caught her eye. She suspected the fragrances would be masculine, property of the room’s previous occupant. Looking about her at this rare creation, she felt an ache that was almost physical. Her skin sorely needed a long bath after a week without in the boarding house, and she couldn’t imagine a better place for it. This room was beyond magnificent. It was perfect.

A sharp rapping at the bedroom door penetrated her reverie. Oriana forced herself to leave the bathing area and found a pretty young maid entering the room, a coffee tray in her hands. Oriana went to take the tray from her, an automatic response.

“Oh no, miss. I’ll just put it on the stand here.” The maid set the tray next to the leather settee, ran brisk fingers over her tidy apron, and curtsied. “I’m Teresa, Miss Paredes. I’ll be taking care of your rooms, and anything else you need.”

“There must be a mistake,” Oriana said. “These rooms are too grand for a companion.”

The girl smiled and shook her head. “No, miss. Mr. Ferreira said it would be easiest to keep you in this end of the house rather than opening up something at the end of the hall. And you’re next to the lady here. Makes it easier for us, you know.”

That sounded more like an excuse than a reason. “Who usually has this room?”

“It was Mr. Alessio’s room,” Teresa said, casting a glance at Oriana’s bag, where it still rested on the settee. “Before he passed, I mean.”

Ah, the mourning. “When was that?”

“Year and a half ago, miss, about. I didn’t work here then. I started after the father died.”

Oriana puzzled at those statements and decided the girl was definitely talking about two different people. Alessio wasn’t the father, then. Perhaps a brother. “The father?”

The girl chewed her lower lip. “Mr. Ferreira, I meant. He died not long after his son. About a year ago, I think.”

Lady Ferreira had lost a husband and a son within the last year and a half. How awful. Oriana decided to try a different tack with her questions. “Do you like working here, Teresa?”

“Oh yes, miss. Mr. Ferreira is a good master. Everyone likes him, even Miss Felis, who’s known him since he was born.”

Oriana didn’t think this girl was faking her enthusiasm; Teresa didn’t seem the sort who could lie well. She felt her worries about the man’s intentions fading. “That’s good to know.”

“Do you need anything else, miss? I could press something if you like.”

Oriana had always had to press her own garments at the Amaral household. It seemed strange to have a servant do such a chore for her. But since ironing was terribly uncomfortable for her hands, she opened her bag and located her black serge skirt, the blue vest, and her remaining shirtwaist. She surrendered them to the maid. “I thought I would take a bath, so there’s no need to hurry.”