Ashworth Hall - Anne Perry [15]
“I’m going to look around the house,” he told her stiffly when he had finished. “I’d better do my proper job as well. That’s what Mr. Cornwallis sent me here for.” He looked very slightly down at her, which, since he was the best part of a foot taller, was not difficult. He was also fourteen years older, and was not going to let some twenty-year-old slip of a girl take liberties just because she knew how to unpack a trunk.
“Good idea,” she said crisply. “Now yer done that”—she nodded towards Pitt’s empty case—“you in’t no use ’ere. These things in’t your place ter see. But you can come back an’ put these cases in the boxroom later on. An’ yer better not go around givin’ yerself no airs,” she added as he reached the door. “Yer don’ want them thinking as yer more’n a valet, although a valet is very superior as servants go. An’ don’t forget that neither, an’ go mixin’ familiar wi’ the like o’ footmen an’ bootboys.”
“And how do you know all that?” he asked, his eyebrows raised high. “Seeing as you only just arrived, same as I did.”
“I bin in service for years,” she said expansively. It was none of his business that all of it had been with Charlotte, and she had her ideas of a house like this from bits and pieces she had overheard and the very occasional visit, and to be honest, more than a little guesswork. She gave him a level stare. “ ’Ow long are yer goin’ ter stand there then, like one o’ them things gentlemen puts their umbrellas on?”
“Service,” he said grimly, then turned and marched out.
“In’t nothin’ wrong in service,” she said to his retreating back. “I’m warm and comfortable every night an’ I eat every day, an’ that’s mor’n a lot can say! An’ I keep company wi’ decent folks, not like wot you do!”
He did not reply.
Gracie finished the rest of Charlotte’s unpacking, enjoying the touch and the luxurious colors of the borrowed gowns, hanging them carefully, smoothing the skirts to stay without creasing, touching her fingers to the beading and the lace and the silk chiffon so fine one could read a book through it.
She was very nearly at the end of the undergarments when there was a knock at the door. She was all ready to face Tellman again and give him another piece of her mind if he was still so contrary, but when she answered, it was not Tellman who came in but a dark-haired rather handsome woman of about thirty, in a maid’s dress, but with the bearing of one who is very sure of herself. Gracie guessed immediately it must be another lady’s maid. Only a lady’s maid or a governess would behave with such superiority, and there were no governesses here.
“Morning,” the woman said cautiously. “I’m Gwen, Mrs. Radley’s maid. Welcome to Ashworth Hall.”
“Good morning,” Gracie replied with a hesitant smile. This woman had achieved what Gracie would most like to be. She would need her help, and example, if she were not to let Charlotte down. “Thank you very much.”
“Mrs. Radley said there might be some things Mrs. Pitt would care to borrow, for the occasion. If you’d like to come with me, I’ll show you and let you hang them in here.”
“Thank you. That would be very good,” Gracie accepted. She thought of making some remark as to why Charlotte needed to borrow gowns, then changed her mind. Gwen probably knew perfectly well the reason. Few people had any secrets from ladies’ maids. She followed obediently and was shown half a dozen gowns, morning dresses, afternoon dresses and an evening dress of rich wines and rose, which in her private opinion would not have suited Mrs. Radley’s delicate fair coloring at all. Either she had made a very bad purchase or she had got it with the intention of giving it to Charlotte at some time.
“Very handsome,” she said, trying to hide at least some of her awe. She did not want to appear ignorant.
“I’m sure it will become Mrs. Pitt very well,” Gwen said generously. “Then if you