Mary took a deep breath of cold courageand began to get dressed. Once she had pulled on sufficient layers tostop herself from shivering, she took a battered brown suitcase out from underher bed and began to fill it. She tiptoed around the room as quickly andquietly as possible, but she knew the creaking floorboards and groaning chestof drawers must have woken Edie a long time ago. Yet Edie did notmove. She kept her back to the room, with sheets and blankets heldtightly up to her ears.
Her suitcase filled, Mary made her way outof the bedroom. She paused before closing the door and looked at her twinsister. It’s now or never, Mary, she told herself. Saysomething to Edie. Apologise. Make amends. Yet no wordscame from either sister. Indignant, Mary pushed the door closed and creptdownstairs to the front door. As she slid back the metal bolts on thefront door, the sound of a chair creaking came from the sitting-room. Mary turned to see her mother standing in the haunting light of a mutedlamp. Her eyes were swollen and red.
‘Mary,’ her mother said softly. Sheopened her arms and pulled Mary in tightly.
‘Mother, I’m only going a quarter of amile down the road! I’ll be back next week.’
Her mother released her and smiled astears streamed down her cheeks. ‘Goodbye, love.’
Mary kissed her mother on the cheek. ‘Bye.’ She turned, tugged open the heavy-set door and stepped out intothe freezing darkness.
Through the upstairs bedroom window, Edithwatched her sister trudge towards Blackfriars, her wild red hair contrastingwith the bright white snow. Then she was gone.
Maryarrived at the back entrance to Blackfriars, expecting to be greeted by thewarm smile of Mrs Cuff. Instead, she came face to face with the uglyscowl of Monsieur Bastion. ‘Quoi?’ he barked.
Sweeping back her windswept hair, Marystepped confidently into the kitchen, pushing past the fat Frenchman. ‘Myname is Mary Mercer, and I am the new third housemaid at Blackfriars. Where will I find Mrs Cuff?’
Monsieur Bastion grunted anincomprehensible reply and raised his hands in disgust.
‘I’ll take you to her,’ said a diminutivegirl wearing the full black and white uniform of a domestic servant. Sheapproached Mary and smiled. ‘My name’s Clara. I’m second housemaidhere. Mrs Cuff said I was to show you the ropes.’
‘Nice to meet you, I’m Mary Mercer.’
Clara smiled. ‘Follow me and I’lltake you to our bedroom.’
Mary received a reproving scowl fromMonsieur Bastion as she followed Clara out of the kitchen. She led Maryalong the narrow dimly-lit corridor until they reached a flight of woodenstairs.
‘They go on for an eternity,’ Clara saidwith a small giggle. ‘Prepare yourself—there are ninety-six of them—Icounted once.’
Each time the steps levelled out, Marytried to get her bearings, but failed before they were off again. Finally, when the stairs terminated at a roof pitch so steep that she had toduck down to enter the corridor, Mary realised that they were in the attic andhad entirely bypassed the main sections of the house.
‘This is where the female staff sleep,’Clara explained. ‘This one’s ours,’ she said, pointing to the second doorof eight along the corridor. Clara led them into a room which remindedMary of her own bedroom. Two single beds, set and perfectly made,dominated the small room. Between the two beds were a pair of woodenbedside tables. A thin wardrobe next to the door completed theroom. Clara must have noticed the look on Mary’s face. ‘It’s a bitbare but it’s comfortable enough.’
‘It’ll be fine, I’m sure,’ Mary said,setting down her case. ‘Which bed’s mine?’
Clara pointed to the bed which Mary hadhoped would not be hers; it was the furthest from the fire and underneath thewindow. Mary lay her suitcase on the bed and popped open the brassclasps. ‘Want to help me unpack?’
Clara winced apologetically. ‘Notime, I’m afraid. We need to be downstairs to start work at six-thirtysharp.’
Mary nodded and reluctantly closed hercase. ‘Maybe this afternoon?’
‘We don’t finish until nine o’clock. I’ll help you with it then.’ Clara smiled again. ‘We shouldprobably head downstairs now.’
Mary stood aside to allow Clara past andtook a quick look back at her new room. To all intents and purposes, thiswas her new home. Not exactly what she had dreamt of, but at least shewas now living at Blackfriars—under the same roof as Cecil Mansfield, Earl ofRothborne.
‘Come on, or you’ll get us both intotrouble with Mrs Cuff,’ Clara called from the corridor.
‘Coming,’ Mary answered. Maryfollowed Clara back down the ninety-six wooden steps into the innards of thehouse. In her naïve stupidity, Mary had assumed that the servants hadfull use of the main house, that she would be using the grand central staircaseto get to her bedroom, which would be on the same floor as the ladies of thehouse. How wrong she had been.
Clara stopped at a closed door along thecorridor which led to the kitchen and softly tapped a finger on the brass platewhich said ‘Housekeeper.’ Moments later, Mrs Cuff pulled open thedoor. ‘Hello, Mary. Welcome to Blackfriars. Come in.’
Mary watched Clara intently, mimicking herpose by standing, hands held together behind her back, with a slight deferentialbow of the head. The two girls stood silently as Mrs Cuff opened a tallmahogany cupboard and retrieved a full set of uniform, which she handed over toMary with a
