Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [75]
She lost Minnie and came face-to-face with Mrs. Newsome.
“If you have nothing to do, girl, go and help in the kitchen,” Mrs. Newsome said tartly. “There are plenty of dishes to wash. No wages for daydreaming.”
“Yes, Mrs. Newsome.” Gracie had no choice. And there was nothing more to learn in the laundry anyway. She went to the kitchen and did as she was told.
By lunchtime she was exhausted, and knew she was wet and crumpled. What would Samuel think of her now? And she wasn’t even learning anything useful! She could not work out what Minnie thought she had found.
Gracie ate her cold mutton, pickle, and mashed potatoes, keeping her eyes on her plate. Her mind raced: broken china that didn’t fit any of the tea services, buckets of water carried up and down stairs; descriptions of the street women—why had Minnie Sorokine asked about these things? They were ordinary enough. Did she really think she had discovered something?
Yes, of course she did. It was in her voice, in her eyes, in the way she raced along the corridor. But was it something to do with the murder, or just whatever romance she was planning? Was it something to prove her husband’s innocence?
Later, when Gracie was tidied up and her dress changed, with a clean apron on to carry up extra sandwiches for afternoon tea, she saw Minnie Sorokine again. This time she was standing in the gallery in a beautiful muslin afternoon dress with frills on it like foam and cerise pink ribbons. She was quite obviously flirting with the Prince of Wales, who stood in the sunlight flooding in through the bay windows. He was looking at her and smiling. She was asking him something and he was happy to answer, except once when Gracie saw a swift frown and then a moment’s awkwardness.
“Snooping again, are you?”
Gracie swung round to see Ada standing no more than a yard away, a look of satisfaction in her face. Gracie felt the color rush up her cheeks because she had no answer to save herself.
“Eavesdropping on your betters,” Ada went on. “Well, if yer out ter learn ’ow ter flirt, yer couldn’t do better than watch that one! I never seen as good. But she’s out o’ your class. Yer get caught watchin’ ’Is ’Ighness an’ you’ll be out before night, I can assure yer.” She said that with obvious pleasure. “But yer in’t goin’ ter get me thrown out fer not watchin’ you proper, so one more time yer cross me, miss, an’ I’ll tell Mrs. Newsome wot yer like. It’s my turn ter carry out the slops. Yer’d like ter do them for me as a favor now, wouldn’t yer?”
However much she might dislike it, Gracie had no choice but to agree. She was here to learn all she could that might help Pitt, not to carve herself a career at the Palace. She went obediently and worked at fetching all the slops and emptying them, washed out all the bowls and jugs, then had to change into another clean dress and damp down and re-press the first one.
She was late for supper and Mrs. Newsome told her off in front of all the others.
“You’re going to have to learn to keep up, Phipps,” she said coldly. “You can’t be coming to table late like this. It is discourteous and it inconveniences everyone. You must learn to fit in. It’s not always easy, but if you cannot manage it, then you are not right for this position. Perhaps you are a little too old to accommodate yourself.”
Gracie felt the anger boil up inside her as everyone along both sides of the table turned to stare at her. She ached to be able to tell them she had no intention of staying here any longer than was necessary to help Mr. Pitt and Mr. Narraway. But of course she could say nothing. To defend herself would betray a confidence that would make her role unbelievable. She drew in breath to apologize, the words all but choking her