Silence in Hanover Close - Anne Perry [84]
Mary was apparently unaware of the contradiction in Emily’s instructions. “No, I never did,” she said regretfully. “Important people never come into the kitchen, and I ’ardly never got out of it. I was only scullery maid then.”
“You didn’t see any strange people upstairs ever? People who shouldn’t have been?”
“No, I never.”
“What was Mr. Robert like? The others must have talked.”
Mary’s brow puckered in thought. “Well, Dulcie said ’e was very partic’lar, never untidy like, an’ always polite—least, as polite as Quality ever is. But then old Mr. York is always polite, too, although ’e’s terrible untidy. Leaves ’is things all over the place, and forgets summink awful! I know ’e was out a lot. James as was footman then, ’e was always sayin’ Mr. Robert was out again, but that was Mr. Robert’s job. ’E was summink very important in the Foreign Service.”
“What happened to James?”
“Mrs. York got rid of ’im. Said as since Mr. Robert was dead there wasn’t no need. Sent ’im off the very next day, she did, on account of Lord somebody-or-other was lookin’ for a valet, and she spoke for ’im.”
“Mrs. Loretta?”
“Oh yes o’ course. Poor Miss Veronica weren’t in no state to do anything. Terrible grieved, she were; in an awful state, poor soul. Mr. Robert were ’er ’ole world. Adored ’im, she did. Not that Mrs. Loretta weren’t terrible upset, too, o’ course. White as a ghost, Dulcie said.” Mary leaned so close her hair tickled Emily’s cheek. “Dulcie told the she ’eard ’er crying summink wicked in the night, but she didn’t dare go in, ’cause she couldn’t do nuffink! People ’as to cry; it’s natural.”
“Of course it is.” Suddenly Emily felt like an intruder. What on earth was she doing here in some unfortunate woman’s house, deceiving everyone, pretending to be a maid? No wonder Pitt was furious! He probably despised her as well.
“Come on,” Mrs. Melrose interrupted briskly, breaking her train of thought. “Drink up your tea, Amelia. Mary’s got work to do, even if you ’aven’t! An’ I’d watch your tongue, if I were you, my girl. Don’t do to be too smart! Edith’s a lazy baggage, an’ you got away with it this time—but you made enemies! Now drink that up an’ get along with you!”
It was excellent advice and Emily thanked her for it meekly and obeyed with an alacrity that surprised them both.
The next two days were uncomfortable. Edith was nursing a resentment which she did not dare exercise, but it was the bitterer for that, and Emily knew she was only biding her time. Mrs. Crawford felt she had somehow been bested, and constantly found tiny faults with Emily, which provoked Redditch into criticizing the housekeeper until everyone was on edge. The laundry room became her only sanctuary, since once again Edith had contrived to get out of the ironing. She had bruised her wrist and the flatiron was too heavy for her. Mrs. Crawford let her get away with that, but she could not overrule Redditch on the matter of dinner, and two delicious midday meals went by without Edith’s presence. Mrs. Melrose seemed to have made a special effort. As was customary, the servants shared the fine wine in the family cellars. In the evening, after supper, they drank hot cocoa and played games in which Edith did not join.
Emily’s only immediate problem was how to fend off Redditch’s friendship without hurting his feelings and thus forfeiting his protection. She had never had to be so diplomatic in her life, and it was a considerable strain. She sought refuge in unnaturally diligent attendance upon Veronica. That was how she came to be in the boudoir in the middle of the afternoon when Nora announced that a Mr. Radley had called, and would Miss Veronica see him?
Emily suddenly felt flushed; the book she had been reading aloud slid off her lap onto the floor. All this had begun as an adventure, but she was not sure she wanted Jack to actually see her as a maid. Her hair was back in a style far less