“And in no circumstance at all will you speak in the presence of His Royal Highness, or, if she should come through to dine with the guests, the Princess of Wales, or to any other member of the household. And that includes ladies- or gentlemen-in-waiting.”
“No, sir.”
“You will perform ordinary household duties such as sweeping, dusting and polishing, fetching and carrying as you are asked. You will wear your cap and apron at all times. You will speak to the menservants only as necessitated by your duties, and there will be no giggling, flirting, or generally making a nuisance of yourself-”
“Miss Phipps is here from Special Branch, Mr. Tyndale,” Pitt cut across him coolly. “She needs instruction regarding Palace etiquette, not in how to conduct herself with dignity. You might remember, sir, that you require her assistance in this unfortunate matter, and she requires and has a right to expect your protection as she helps me to learn the truth as rapidly and discreetly as possible.”
Tyndale colored. “You may count on me, Inspector,” he said stiffly. “If I offended you, Miss Phipps, I apologize. Ada will show you to your room. I have seen to it that you do not have to share. I imagine that might have made your task more difficult.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tyndale.” She was indeed very grateful. It was going to be hard enough to take orders all day without having to share a bedroom as well. She realized with a jolt how accustomed she had become to doing her duties as she pleased. It seemed like a very long time ago that she had first come to the Pitt house, a scruffy and awkward child needing to be taught almost everything. Now fully in charge, able to read and write, and engaged to be married, she was on the brink of becoming a thoroughly respectable woman.
She turned to Pitt. “ ’Ow do I tell yer if I larnt summink, sir?”
“I’ll find you,” Pitt promised. “And. . thank you, Gracie.”
She gave him a huge smile, then, aware of how inappropriate it was, she turned on her heel and went out into the passage to wait for Ada, who would show her up to bed.
Ada proved to be a pretty girl with flaxen blond hair and clear, fresh skin. She regarded Gracie with only a mild interest. The look on her face suggested that she thought anyone so small and thin was not going to prove a threat to her place in the hierarchy, nor was she likely to be a companion of much fun.
“Come on, then,” she said briskly, in one phrase establishing her superiority in the order of things.
The narrow bedroom, actually designed to accommodate two people, was right at the top of the stairs. It was quite well appointed, and the window looked out over a vista of treetops toward the distant roofs of the city. Gracie thanked Ada, and as soon as the door was closed behind her, unpacked her meager belongings to put away in the chest at the bottom of the bed. She was barely finished when there was a knock on the door again. A different maid, who introduced herself as Norah, brought a dark uniform dress, which looked to be the right size, and a freshly starched cap and apron, handsomely trimmed in lace.
“I’ll call you at six,” she said cheerfully before leaving and closing the door behind her.
But tired as Gracie was, sleep was almost impossible. She lay on one side, then the other, then on her back staring up at the ceiling.
She was in Buckingham Palace! She, Gracie Phipps, was on a special mission for Mr. Pitt. Someone had knifed a prostitute to death in a linen cupboard in the guest wing a couple of floors down from where she lay, and she was to help him solve the case. How on earth was she going to do that? Where should she even begin?
She had not had time to tell Samuel about it, and perhaps she shouldn’t anyway, not until it was over. But what a story she would have then! She could imagine his face as she described it. She’d wager a week’s money he had never been inside Buckingham Palace in his life.
All the same, she would rather have told him now. He was a good sleuth, really good. He would have done this far better than she. But he despised being in service. They had had lots of arguments about it.
She thought it was just silly pride to prefer being cold and hungry, living in some rot-smelling rooms and drinking water from a well that might not even be clean, just to say for yourself whether you came or went. Better to have a warm room, good food every day, and be as safe as anybody is, at the price of being told what to do.
Everybody had to obey rules, no matter who you were. They were just different sorts of rules. He couldn’t see that. Stubborn, he was.
But then she wouldn’t really want him much different, even if more sensible. She smiled in the dark as she thought of him. She would be able to tell him all about it soon. She would make notes, just to remind herself-about the Palace, not the detecting. That was secret from everybody-except Mr. Pitt, of course.
She must have finally gone to sleep because she was jolted awake by a knock on the door, and a moment later Norah was standing by her bed with a candle in her hand. She waited until Gracie actually climbed out and stood up in her nightgown, bare feet on the floor.
“Can’t ’ave yer late on yer first day,” she said cheerfully, and, satisfied, turned to leave. “Breakfast’s in the servants’ ’all at ’alf-past six.
Don’t miss it or yer’ll be ’ungry.”
Gracie thanked her, then she poured the water she had fetched the night before. She set about getting ready, as well as she could, in both body and mind.
The uniform dress was a trifle large, especially around the waist, but with the apron tied it looked very smart. It was perfectly ironed, with not a suspicion of a crease, and the lace was as good as a lady’s. The cap felt uncomfortable, but when she peered at herself in the small glass on top of the chest of drawers, she was surprised how much she liked the look of it. She was self-conscious, but rather pleased all the same.
The servants’ hall was less grand than she had imagined it, and considerably more utilitarian, but then she had never worked anywhere but in the Pitts’ house. Her visions of large and wealthy establishments was based solely upon Charlotte’s sister’s house, where she had stayed briefly several years ago. The Palace was somewhat similar, and that was in a way comforting. The large beams across the ceiling were also hung with dried herbs, and there were polished copper pans and utensils on the farther wall.
There were a dozen other people there, including Ada, who was pretty and very smart in a clean black dress, which flattered the curves of her figure. Her lace-edged apron was tied tightly around her waist. Gracie was shown her place at the table and joined them silently. Mr. Tyndale stood at the head, Mrs. Newsome at the foot.
Mr. Tyndale waited a moment while everyone composed themselves, then he offered the daily prayer. He hesitated before the end, and Gracie, with her eyes closed, wondered if he was going to mention the dead woman, but had changed his mind.
They all obediently sat down and were served with porridge, then toast and jam and tea. She had expected more conversation. Were they always as subdued as this, or was it because of the murder? How much did they know about it? She watched them guardedly as she ate, trying not to be observed doing so.
“Is them police still ’ere?” one of the maids asked nervously.
“ ’Course they are!” a dark-haired footman told her. “They’re gonna be ’ere till they find which o’ the guests killed ’er, aren’t they!”
That was a challenge, not a question.
“An’ ’ow are they goin’ ter do that, then?” Ada asked him. “Nobody saw it, or we’d know already, wouldn’t we!”
“I dunno!” the footman said sharply. “I in’t a policeman, am I!
They gotta ’ave ways.”
Gracie plunged in. “I ’spect they’ll ask questions.”
“Well, you don’t ’ave ter worry.” The footman grinned. “It weren’t none of us. One o’ the gentlemen’s gentlemen was up ’alf the night, an’ ’e swears as none of us came down the stairs.”
“You watch yourself, Edwards,” Mr. Tyndale said warningly. “You’re a bit too free with your comments.”
“Sorry, Mr. Tyndale,” the footman apologized quickly, but he was looking at Gracie under his lashes.
“Of course it wasn’t one of us,” Mrs. Newsome added. “Nobody ever entertained such an idea.”
“I entertained a few ideas,” Ada said under her breath.
“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Newsome put down her knife and regarded Ada coldly.
“I wouldn’t entertain the idea, ma’am,” Ada replied with practiced innocence.
Someone giggled.
“Am I going to have to require you to leave the table?” Mrs. Newsome said frostily.
