“Gracie, we are all going away this coming weekend. Daniel and Jemima will go to my mother’s in Cater Street. Mrs. Standish will feed the cats. The rest of us are going to the country. You are coming with me as my maid.”
Grade’s eyes widened. This was a role she was untrained for. It was socially several stations above household, and she had begun life as a maid of all work. She had never lacked courage, but this was daunting, to say the least.
“I shall tell you what to do,” Charlotte assured her. Then, seeing the alarm in her eyes, “It is one of the master’s cases,” she added.
“Oh.” Gracie stood quite still. “I see. Then we in’t got no choice, ’as we!” She lifted her chin a trifle. “We’d best be gettin’ ready, then.”
THE CARRIAGE, which like the clothes had been borrowed from Aunt Vespasia for the occasion, arrived at Ashworth Hall late on Thursday morning. Charlotte and Pitt had sat in the back, facing forward. Gracie and the policeman, Tellman, had sat in the front, facing the way they had come.
Gracie had never ridden in a carriage before. Normally she used the public omnibus if she needed to travel at all, and that was extremely rarely. She had never been at such a speed before, except once when she had, to her terror and amazement, ridden in the underground train. That was an experience never to be forgotten, and if she had any say in the matter, never to be repeated either. And it did not count, because it was through a black tunnel, and you could not see where you were going. To sit in a comfortably upholstered seat, with springs, in a carriage with four perfectly matched horses, and fly along the roads into the countryside was quite marvelous.
She did not look at Tellman, but she was acutely conscious of him sitting bolt upright beside her, exuding disapproval. She had never seen such a sour face on anybody before. From the look of him you would have thought he was in a house with bad drains. He never said a word from one milestone to the next.
They swept up the long, curving drive under the elm trees and stopped in front of the great entrance with its magnificent front door, the smooth, classical pillars and the flight of steps. The footman jumped down and opened the door, and another footman appeared from the house to assist.
Even Gracie, a servant, was given an arm to balance her as she alighted. Perhaps they thought she would be likely to fall without it, and they might be right. She had forgotten how far down it was to the ground.
“Thank you,” she said primly, and straightened her dress. She was a lady’s maid now, and should be treated as such. She should accept such courtesies as her due … for the weekend.
Tellman grunted as he got out, regarding the liveried footman with conceded disgust. However, Gracie noticed he could not help looking up at the house, and in spite of his best intentions, there was admiration in his eyes for the sheer magnificence of the Georgian windows, row upon row, and the smooth ashlar stone broken by the scarlet creeper which climbed it.
Charlotte and Pitt were welcomed inside.
Tellman went as if to follow Pitt.
“Servant’s entrance, Mr. Tellman,” Gracie whispered.
Tellman froze. A tide of color swept up his cheeks. At first Gracie thought it was embarrassment, then she realized from his rigid shoulders and clenched fists that it was rage.
“Don’t show up the master by making a fool o’ yerself, goin’ w’ere it in’t your place!” she said under her breath.
“He isn’t my master!” Tellman retorted. “He’s a policeman, just like any of us.” But he turned on his heel and followed Gracie, who was walking behind the footman as he showed them around to the side—a considerable way in a house the size of this one.
The footman took them in through the smaller entrance, along a wide passage, and stopped at a doorway where he knocked. A woman’s voice answered and he opened the door and showed them in.
“Tellman and Phipps, Mr. and Mrs. Pitt’s personal servants, Mrs. Hunnaker,” he said, then withdrew, closed the door behind him and left them alone in a neat, well-furnished parlor with easy chairs, a pleasant piece of carpeting, two pictures on the walls and clean antimacassars on the chair backs. Embroidered samplers hung above the mantelpiece, and there was a brisk fire burning in the wrought-iron grate surrounded by painted tiles.
Mrs. Hunnaker was in her fifties with a long, straight nose and thick gray hair which was extremely handsome, lending her face a certain charm. She looked like a well-bred governess.
“I expect you’ll find it strange,” she said, regarding them closely. “But we’ll make you welcome. Danny’ll show you your rooms. Men servants use the back stairs, women the front. Don’t forget that.” She looked particularly at Tellman. “Mealtimes are breakfast in the servants’ hall at eight o’clock. Porridge and toast. You will eat with the servants, naturally. Dinner is between twelve and one, and supper will be before the guests’. If your lady and gentleman want you at these times, Cook’ll keep you something. Ask, never take. Likewise, if your lady and gentleman wants a cup of tea, or a little something to eat, ask Cook if you can prepare it. We can’t have every servant in the house coming and going willy-nilly or we’ll never get a decent meal served. Laundry maids’ll wash for you, but expect you to do your own lady’s ironing.” She looked at Gracie.
“Yes, ma’am,” Gracie said obediently.
“Doubtless you’ve got all your own needles and threads, brushes and the like.” That was a statement, not a question. “If you need anything from the cellar or the pantry, ask Mr. Dilkes, he’s the butler. Don’t go outside unless someone sends you. As far as the other guests are concerned, speak when you are spoken to, but don’t let anyone put on you. If you can’t find anything as you want, ask someone. It’s a big house and folks can easy get lost. I hope you’ll be very comfortable here.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Gracie bobbed a half curtsy.
Tellman said nothing.
Gracie kicked him unobtrusively, but hard.
He drew in his breath with a hiss.
“Thank you,” he said tersely.
Mrs. Hunnaker pulled on a bell cord, and a maid answered almost immediately.
“These are Mr. and Mrs. Pitt’s servants, Jenny. Show them the laundry, the stillroom, Mr. Dilkes’s pantry and the servants’ hall. Then take Phipps to her room, and have one of the footmen take Tellman to his.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jenny bobbed a curtsy obediently and turned to lead them.
Gracie had never before been addressed by her surname, but she realized it was probably the way in a large house. Charlotte had warned her that visiting valets and ladies’ maids were sometimes known by the names of their employers. If “Pitt!” were called out by any of the senior servants, it would be she, or Tellman, who was wanted. It would all take a lot of getting used to. But it was a wonderful adventure, and she was always eager for new experiences.
Tellman, on the other hand, still looked as if he had sucked on a lemon.
The room she was shown was very pleasant, if somewhat smaller than her own in Keppel Street, and certainly not nearly as cozy. There was nothing of a personal nature in it. But then it was probably not occupied very often, and never by one person for more than a week or two at a time.
She set her bags down, opened one up, then remembered that of course she would have to go downstairs and unpack all Charlotte’s things first, hang them up and make sure all was well. That was what ladies’ maids were for. She wondered if Tellman had remembered that was what he was supposed to do too. There was no way she could help him, because she had no idea where his room was.