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Snobbery With Violence - M. C. Beaton [85]

By Root 206 0

“Stands to reason. That old frump of a secretary doesn’t want to lose her job. She probably never even told him.”

“Oh ... well, no matter. We’ll probably be very happy in our new life at Drevey’s bank.”


Rose had expected her parents to be worried, but they seemed quite cheerful as she and Daisy packed up what they would need that weekend. She did not know that the earl had already called on Harry and had given him the address of Rose’s hostel or that Peter Drevey had promised to give Harry weekly reports of their daughter’s wellbeing. They were also cheered by the captain’s belief that Rose would not last very long in her new life. But mindful of the fact that they did not want Rose returning to Eaton Square in their absence, only to be minded by a maid whom both the earl and countess distrusted, they refused to give her a set of keys to the town house.

Mildly hurt, Rose said loftily that she would not need them

The weekend finally arrived. Lord and Lady Hadfield seemed indecently cheerful as they supervised arrangements for their journey to Nice. Rose was feeling even more uneasy about her new venture. She had rather hoped that her parents might shed a few tears and beg her not to go ahead with the scheme so that she could capitulate gracefully.

But at last her luggage along with Daisy’s was placed on the outside steps—two suitcases and one large steamer trunk— while a footman fetched a hack.

If this were a novel, thought Rose sadly, as the hack jerked forward, my parents would be waving a tearful farewell from the steps. The farewell had taken place half an hour earlier in the drawing room and had taken the form of a stern lecture.

At last the hack turned down a narrow back street in Blooms-bury, Bryant’s Court.

“Is this it?” asked Rose nervously.

“This is it,” said Daisy. “I hope they gave you money to pay for this hack.”

“I still have some of my pin money left,” said Rose.

The cabbie thanked her so effusively and said, “Good day, my lady,” that Rose was alarmed.

“He recognised me!”

“Nah!” said Daisy. “You tipped too much.”

The delighted cabbie had carried their luggage to the front door. Daisy rang the bell. The door opened and Miss Harringey stared at Rose.

“Don’t expect me to help you up the stairs with that luggage,” she said. “Come into my sanctum and I’ll give you your keys.”

Rose stood nervously while Daisy collected two sets of keys, one each to the front door, one each to the room.

“Miss Devine knows the way,” said Miss Harringey.

Rose was too depressed to say anything. Inside her head, a voice was crying, “What have I done? Oh, what have I done?”

They decided to carry the suitcases up first and then return for the trunk. Their suitcases were light because they contained nothing but their “working clothes,” but the trunk was heavy because it was not only packed with underwear but piles of books which Rose considered essential and Daisy thought were a waste of time and energy.

Daisy unlocked the door to their room. “There you are,” she said cheerfully. “New home.”

Rose bit her Up. She would not cry. But the sight of the room depressed her so much that she felt a lump rising in her throat.

She forced herself to say, “I suppose it will do. Let’s get the trunk.’’

Miss Harringey, hands folded on her rigid bosom, watched curiously as they struggled back up the stairs, carrying the trunk between them. Rose turned on the first landing and saw her watching and gave her a haughty, glacial stare. Miss Harringey sniffed and retreated to her parlour.

When they laid the trunk in a corner, Rose straightened up and looked around again.

“There are no curtains,” she said.

“That’s cos we’re at the top of the house,” said Daisy. “Nobody can look in.”

“I want curtains,” said Rose. “Good, lined curtains.”

“You do that, and then the old bat will become suspicious if she starts snooping around. Look, we’ll buy some cheap ones.”

“And a vase for flowers. I need fresh flowers.”

“My lady... I mean Rose ... you’ll need to get used to the new life.”

“A cheap vase and cheap flowers,” said Rose stubbornly.

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