“It wasn’t an agreement—it was a command.”
“Call it what you like, I’ll have my share.”
“For God’s sake,” Daniel said. He’d remained silent through the talk, but now he put down the fork he’d been using to shovel lamb into his mouth as if the house was on fire and he only had seconds to spare. “This family is a bloody carnival show.”
“Says you,” Peter said.
“Yes, says I,” he said. “I wonder, Hat, what your friends think of your position? They surely find your employment distasteful.”
“If you are referring to Flora and Queenie, I don’t know why you think so. They attended the Iddesleigh School for Exceptional Girls, too, you know. We were all trained for future employment. That was the point—leading the way to equality.”
“Your—” Daniel started, but suddenly, several grandfather clocks began to chime, and for the space of a minute, no one spoke, as their voices wouldn’t carry over the racket.
When they’d finished chiming, Daniel continued. “Your friends attended that school because their parents wanted to be rid of them. Not because they wouldeverbe expected to work for wages. They’re too upper-crust to dirty their hands.”
“They aren’t her friends,” her mother said. The cat she was holding stood in her lap and stretched, and then gingerly stepped up on the table and began to weave through the plates, platters, and glassware.
“Of course they are my friends,” Hattie said, and stood up from her seat, picked up the cat, and deposited it on the floor. “I’ve known them for ten years.”
Her mother snorted. “Fancy Flora pays you, darling. You’re not her friend.”
“Mama!” Hattie exclaimed. But to be fair, that very thought had crossed her mind once or twice. Would Flora and Queenie want her to join them if she wasn’t being paid to do so? She didn’t want to risk discovering the answer because, really, they were the only friends she had.
“Especially the tall one,” Daniel said.
Hattie frowned. “Do you mean Flora?”
Daniel shrugged. “How should I know her name? She is no one to me. Although I did see her in attendance at a concert in the Canterbury Music Hall. She’s a bit overweening, isn’t she?”
“You’ve clearly confused her with someone else. She’s not at all overweening, she is very kind, and she happens to be my closest friend, Daniel. You shouldn’t say such things—you don’t even know her.”
Daniel shrugged and pushed his clean plate away.
“She’s the daughter of a viscount,” Hattie’s mother said, and for a moment, Hattie thought her mother meant to defend Flora. “They’re all of them overweening, are they not?”
Daniel and her mother laughed loudly together.
Hattie put her napkin beside her plate. “Well, then. This has been...” She paused, trying to think of an appropriate word. “It’s been what it usually is, disturbing and a little frightening. If you will all excuse me?” She stood to go.
“Don’t forget my share!” her father called after her as she exited the room.
Hattie strode out of the dining room and down the crowded hallway, sidestepping packages, cats, clocks, dress forms and tea services. Oh yes, she was eager to work, all right, eager to do anything that would help her leave this damn house. And work seemed the only possibility she had that didn’t include a pine box.
She sincerely hoped the pine box didn’t come for her first.
THENEXTAFTERNOON, Hattie paused in the foyer to put on a light cloak, as it had begun to rain. She had on her arm a basket full of gifts for everyone at the viscount’s house. They’d all been quite pleased with the Tudor rose lapel pins she’d bought from Mrs. O’Malley for a half crown each. Today, Hattie had two linen handkerchiefs she’d embroidered with English ivy along the border, one for Aurelia and Yolanda, the women who worked in the kitchen. It was curious, she thought, how their friendships were forming. The two girls didn’t speak English, and yet, the three of them had been making their way, mainly by teaching each other words as they went. Hattie would point to a dish, for example, and say, “Plate.” Yolanda or Aurelia would respond with the Spanish version.“Plato!”Chicken waspollo. A potato was apatata. From Aurelia, Hattie learned that heart wascorazón, which she’d learned after noticing Aurelia smiling shyly at one of the footmen.
She also had some tea cakes from Mrs. O’Malley’s shop for Mary, a salt shaker for Mr. Pacheco, after he’d marveled over one in the house, having never seen one before. In Santiava, she learned, they used saltcellars. She also had a cigar she’d stolen from her father’s stack for Mr. Borerro, and a new deck of cards for the footmen, who played with a very worn deck.
And at the very bottom of the basket, covered by all the other things, she had something for his lordship, too. If she could find the courage to give it to him. She feared he might think her impertinent or too forward...but then again, did it matter? It wasn’t as if she had anything to lose.
It was her much-loved copy of the bookJane Eyre. To her, it was the perfect novel-reading experience.
She was fastening her cloak when her mother appeared in the doorway of the drawing room, a cat in her arms, looking displeased.
“Good afternoon, Mama,” Hattie said.
“Just look at you,” her mother said darkly, her gaze critically sliding up and down Hattie. “Are you wearingrouge?”
