that verse:'First it killed the Romans, and now it's killing me!' '
Maisie looked at Lady Rowan and smiled. She wasn't sure if it was a joke, but she couldn't stop the grin from forming. It was the first time she had truly smiled since coming to the house. The expression was not lost on Lady Rowan, who felt herself torn between regard for the girl and the appropriate response in such a situation.
'Maisie--Miss Dobbs. There is still time for you to enjoy a short rest before your duties commence. Go back to your room now. I shall need to discuss this incident. In the meantime, do not use the library until you hear from Carter, who will instruct you as to how we will deal with this . . . situation.' Lady Rowan felt the requirements of her position pressing upon her, just as it had when she had been taken by Maurice to the East End of London. How could she do what was right, without compromising--how had Maurice described it? Yes, without compromising 'the safety of her own pond'?
'Yes, Your Ladyship.' Maisie put her notebook into in her pocket, and with tears of fear visibly pricking the inner corners of her eyes, bobbed another curtsy.
Lady Rowan waited until Maisie had left the room before extinguishing the lights. It was only as she walked slowly down the staircase that she remembered that she had gone to the library for a book.
'Bloody fool,' she said to herself, and walked toward the drawing room to speak with her husband and Maurice Blanche on a new topic of conversation.
CHAPTER TEN
Maisie had hardly been able to concentrate on anything since being discovered. She felt sure that notice to leave the employ of Lord and Lady Compton would soon follow, and was surprised that one week had gone by without any word. Then Carter summoned Maisie to his 'office,' the term he sometimes used--especially in grave situations where a reprimand was to be meted out--to describe the butler's pantry, a small room adjacent to the kitchen, where he kept meticulous records regarding the running of the house.
Maisie was in a miserable state. The embarrassment of being caught, together with the pain of anticipating her father's dismay at her behavior, was almost too much to bear. And of course, she no longer had access to the Comptons' library. Wringing her already work-reddened hands, Maisie knocked on the door of Mr. Carter's office. Her nails were bitten down to the quick, and she had picked at her cuticles until her fingers were raw. It had been a nerve-wracking week.
'Enter,' said Carter, with a tone that was neither soft and welcoming nor overtly displeased. It was a tone that gave nothing away.
'Good morning, Mr. Carter.' Maisie bobbed a curtsy as she walked into the small room.'You wanted to see me, Sir?'
'Yes, Maisie. You know why I have summoned you. Lady Compton wishes to meet with you at twelve noon today. Sharp. In the library. I shall myself be in attendance, as will a colleague of both Lord and Lady Compton.
'Yes, Mr. Carter.'
Maisie could bear the wait no longer, and although fear was nipping at her throat and chest, she had to know her fate.
'Mr. Carter, Sir?'
'Yes, Maisie?' Carter regarded her over half-moon spectacles.
'Mr. Carter. Can't you just get on with it? Give me the sack now, so that I don't have to--'
'Maisie. No one has said anything about the sack. I am instructed only to accompany you to a meeting with Lady Rowan and Dr. Blanche. I have also been requested to take your notebooks to the library this morning at half past ten. Please bring them to me directly so that I can take them to Lady Rowan.'
'But . . .' Maisie did not understand, and although she thought that Carter did not understand either, she suspected he might have an inkling.'Mr. Carter, Sir. What's this all about?'
Carter adjusted his tie and swept an imaginary hair from the cuff of his crisp white shirt.'Maisie, it is most unusual. However, I do not believe your employment here is at an end. In fact, rather the contrary. Now then. The notebooks. Then I believe the sideboard in the dining room is to be waxed and polished this morning, so you had better get on.'
Maisie bobbed another curtsy and turned to leave the office.
'And Maisie,' said Carter, sweeping back his well-combed gray-at-the-temples hair. 'Although respect should always be accorded our employers and their guests, there's no need to keep bobbing up and down like a sewing-machine needle when you are downstairs.'
Maisie absentmindedly bobbed again and quickly left the office. She returned fifteen minutes later with her collection of small notebooks for Carter. She was terrified of the meeting that was to take place at twelve noon, and was sure that she would spend half the time until then in the lavatory.
Carter was waiting at the foot of the first-floor stairs at five minutes to twelve when Maisie walked toward him from the landing that led to the lower stairs and the kitchen. He drew his pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket, determined to be not a moment too soon or a second too late.
'Ah, Maisie,' he said as she approached, hands clasped together in front of her white pinafore.
Carter looked the girl up and down to check for marks on the pinafore and scuffs on her shoes, for stray tendrils of hair escaping from her white cap.
'Nicely turned out. Good. Let us proceed.'
Carter checked his watch once more, turned, and led the way to the library. Maisie had a horrible taste in her mouth. What would her father say when she came home with her small canvas bag and no job? Well, perhaps it was for the best. She missed him something rotten, so perhaps it would be a very good thing. Carter knocked briskly at the door. A voice could be heard within.
'Come in.'
Maisie closed her eyes for a second, put her hands behind her back, and crossed her fingers.
