Diamonds & Deceit (4 page)

“Oh, Annie,” Georgiana Averley said, turning to the door of the music room as Annie entered. “Could you tell Cook it will be I who sees her at eleven, not Lady Edith? Lady Edith has a headache, I’m sorry to say.” Georgiana winced at the lie, but she could hardly tell her that her cousin William’s wife was drunk again. “And we are expecting Mr. Simmons, Papa’s agent, for dinner, so there will be one more, but she needn’t go to too much trouble—the fowl will stretch, I am sure, and perhaps there could be another vegetable dish—I leave it up to her.”

“Yes, my lady.” Annie dipped a curtsy and went out. Georgiana sighed and went to the piano. Her heart was hardly in the practicing. She missed Ada so much. She wondered how much longer she could keep Edith’s drinking habits concealed. The servants would surely notice sooner or later.

Think about it later,
she told herself. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the music. Waves of waltzes swept her along, then she swung into the new ragtime. In London they would be dancing to this, the beat of the feet on the pavements, the roar of the engines, the glare of the new electric lights around Piccadilly. She could have gone to London with her sisters. She
should
have gone to London. Plenty of girls her age were out, it wasn’t fair. She was so much stronger now, her chest hardly ached at all when she ran—

“Georgie! There you are.” The door banged open; her hands skidded into a discord. Michael Templeton strode in, the customary frown on his face. “What are you doing—oh, tinkling on that old thing.” He flung himself down on the sofa, mud from his shoes scattering across the rug Annie had just cleaned. “Do you believe it? Your father just wrote that I am to go back to Eton. I know this is Mother’s doing! Why can’t the pair of them just leave me alone?”

Georgiana sighed. She loved her stepbrother. Just one smile from him—rare as those were these days—could make her heart race like a runaway train. But sometimes, she had to admit to herself, he was very annoying.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think they’re both right,” she said. Michael sat forward with an angry exclamation. Georgiana raised her voice to drown him out. “What on earth are you doing here but moping around and making yourself miserable? You must get something to do, and you’re too young for the army—”

“Only by one year!” Michael protested.

“It doesn’t matter. You must go to Oxford or Cambridge, there’s no help for it. You’re not going to inherit, you know,” she added bluntly. “And you don’t have a title, so I can’t imagine any heiress marrying you.”

Michael scowled. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m marrying Priya.”

“Ssh!” Horrified, Georgiana got up and closed the door. “You mustn’t say that so loud. Anyone could hear!”

“Why shouldn’t I say it aloud? I don’t care who knows it. I love her and I’m not ashamed of that. I’m proud.”

Georgiana took a deep breath, struggling to contain her pain and annoyance. It was not simply that it hurt to be reminded that her own love was not requited. If the servants got wind of the fact that Michael and the nursemaid were secretly engaged, Priya’s life would become very difficult.

“Really, Michael, you are terribly childish sometimes,” she began. Michael interrupted her.

“That’s rich, coming from you. You do nothing but flutter around after Mrs. Cliffe, with your head full of dinner menus and dramas about laundry lists.”

Georgiana blushed angrily. “For your information, I’m trying to learn how to manage this house.”

“Well, that’s a waste of time,” Michael sneered.

“How can you say that? So many people’s lives are tied to this place.”

“Mine isn’t.” Michael jumped to his feet. “You act as if Somerton is all there is, as if you’ll be able to fritter your whole life away giving orders to Cook and entertaining the vicar to tea. But things aren’t like that anymore. We’ve got automobiles and airships and telephones. There are a thousand things that a man with some energy can do. I’m going to get out of here, and earn my own living. Priya and I will live a real life, away from this…museum.”

He stormed out of the door, leaving another set of muddy footprints going out.

“Oh, the silly—!” Georgiana broke off and rang the bell. Her face was hot, and she felt tears of annoyance prick at her eyes. If Michael ever bothered to think about anyone but himself, he would have considered that Somerton wasn’t just a museum. For everyone who worked here, it was their whole life. That wasn’t a responsibility that could be lightly thrown away. Michael might talk about the modern world, but Somerton was
her
world, here and now, and she was determined to make it a good one.

“Drunk again,” Cook said when Annie gave her Lady Georgiana’s message. She was up to her elbows in bread dough; flour dusted everything around her. “I feel sorry for Lady Georgiana. You can see she’s trying her best, but she’s only a girl.”

“There was a man from London at the door the other day,” Martha said, looking up from peeling the potatoes. “Cooper got rid of him. He didn’t say, but I’m sure it was about Sir William’s debts. He mentioned horses.”

Cook shook her head as she began kneading again. Lord Westlake’s nephew had always been trouble.

“It’s a bad business altogether. I wish he wasn’t the heir.”

“Well, Lady Ada’s marriage should sort things out,” Annie said, only half listening.

Instead of going back to her work, she hovered at the back door, watching the stable boy as he worked.

“Don’t think we don’t know who you’re looking at,” Martha said over her shoulder.

Annie started and turned to face her. “And why shouldn’t I?” she said, returning to the kitchen and pausing to glance in the greasy piece of mirror that sat above the sink. She tucked her hair in tidily, and set her cap on her head at a more flirtatious angle. At least as flirtatious as a housemaid’s cap could be. Martha nudged her out of the way to tumble the potatoes into the sink.

“Give over yer primping,” she scoffed. “He won’t be interested in you.”

“Want to bet?” Annie patted her hair and gave a little twirl. She didn’t look so bad, she thought. She might not be a beauty like Rose, but she had a pretty nose and hardly any freckles. She glanced at the clock. She could steal five minutes just to pop over and say hello to him.

“Annie, love, a lad like that has his pick of the ladies.”

“And he won’t pick you, that’s for sure!” Annie tossed over her shoulder as she went out into the courtyard. She held her head high and walked with a swing in her step toward the stables. Now that Rose wasn’t here, Annie was certainly the prettiest of the housemaids. There was no reason the new stable boy wouldn’t be interested in taking her to the fair.

She reached the stables and peeped coyly round the door. The boy was at the far end of the stable, filling the rack with hay. He didn’t look up as she came closer. Annie cleared her throat, making him look up.

“Hello,” she said with a smile.

The boy grunted a greeting and went back to pitching hay. Annie gazed at his arms. They were like wood, she thought, like carved, hard oak.…

“Got something to say to me?” he asked.

“Oh!” Annie started and blushed. “I just thought I’d come over and say hello. You know what with you being new and all. What’s your name?”

“Tobias.”

Annie waited for him to ask hers, but he didn’t. She went on: “Up from the West Country, are you?”

Tobias looked up for the first time, and smiled. Annie’s knees weakened. He had the whitest teeth she’d ever seen.

“I am.”

“You can hear it in your voice, it’s like cream and honey,” Annie fluttered, then blushed as she heard herself.

Tobias’s smile broadened and he set the hayfork to one side. He brushed the hay from his hands and walked unhurriedly toward her. Annie felt her face turning bright red. She couldn’t stop staring at him. His skin was the same golden color as the hay.

“Just a social call, is it?”

“Y-yes.” Her voice had gone squeaky; she hastily brought it down. “Yes.” Too low, she sounded like a man. She swallowed and started again. “Some of us are going to the fair this evening and I just wondered, I thought maybe, since you’re new—” This was all going wrong. “If you’d like to come with us?” Her voice ended up squeaky again.

“I see.” He was standing so close to her that she could smell the clean sweat on him. “That’s a kind offer…”

“Annie.”

“Annie, of course. Only I won’t be taking you up on it.”

Annie fell silent in disappointment. Tobias nodded toward a beam, where Annie now saw a photograph of a young lady that had been propped against a nail. Annie took it in at one glance; the elegant clothes, the gloves, the feathered hat, the large dark eyes, the small mouth parted in a smile to show teeth as white as the pearls on Lady Edith’s best brooch…and the complete absence of a maid’s uniform.

“See her? This is my young lady,” Tobias announced. “She works in the haberdasher’s in the village. Miss Sadie Billesley is her name.”

Annie made no answer, but she had the feeling that someone had upset a jug of iced water in her insides.

“I’ll be going to the fair with her. So can you think of any reason why I might go with a servant instead?” Tobias looked Annie up and down, and Annie was conscious as never before of her work-hardened hands, her ugly uniform, and the scent of the kitchen that hung about her. How could she compete with a young lady who worked in a shop, who was allowed to wear scent and jewelry and got called “miss” by the customers?

Annie was frozen for a second. Then she turned and fled. Her face was burning with mortification as she ran across the courtyard, back to the kitchen. Right now, being a servant felt like the worst thing in the world.

She slunk back into the kitchen, rubbing the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. She hoped she could get through without anyone noticing and making fun of her. Luckily Martha was gutting fish at the sink and wasn’t watching her. She edged past Sarah, the second housemaid, who was drinking her tea, toward the door to the servants’ corridor. Before she reached it, it swung open and Thomas strode in with the post.

“Letter for you, Annie,” he announced, tossing the envelope at her. Annie just caught it.

“For me?” The shock dried up her tears. No one wrote to her. Why would they? She couldn’t read. She could, however, make out her own name at the top of the address. Thomas was right.

Annie stared at the letter in astonishment. A thousand wild fancies hovered in her head like specks of flour in the sunbeams. Maybe some long-lost relative had died and left her a fortune. Maybe some visiting duke had seen her and fallen in love. Maybe—

The bell shrilled out.

“Oh, I hate that noise!” she exclaimed.

“I’ll go.” Sarah put down her tea and jumped up. “You read your letter, Annie. It’s not every day you get one of those.”

“Thank you.” Annie felt embarrassed. She didn’t care to show that she couldn’t read. She hesitated, then remembered. Priya, the nursemaid. She loved reading, and she wouldn’t tell tales. Annie, full of excitement, ran out of the kitchen and up the servants’ stairs to the nursery.

She found Priya standing by the crib, folding nappies while Augustus played on his rocking horse. Priya swung round, her eyes wide and scared, as Annie came in.

“You’re jumpy,” Annie laughed. “Got a guilty conscience?” She ran over to Priya. “I got a letter, look! It’s addressed to me with a stamp and everything.”

“That’s wonderful!” Priya took it. “But what do you want me to do with it?”

Annie blushed. She hadn’t thought to be embarrassed by asking Priya to read her letter, but now she realized how foolish she must look, asking for help from the Indian nursemaid. Typical housemaid, no education and no chance of a better life. Not like Miss Sadie Billesley. “Read it to me. I never had chance to get my ABC. Not that I need it.” She tossed her head. “No time to waste on novels.”

“Of course I’ll read it for you,” Priya said with a kind expression that only made Annie’s face grow warmer. She opened the letter and scanned it. “It’s from Rose!” she exclaimed.

“Rose!” Annie was startled and pleased. She hadn’t expected Rose to write, not now that she was a fine lady. “What does she say?”

“That she misses you, and it’s so busy down in London that she hasn’t a moment to herself, but she thinks of the time you used to work together and she hasn’t forgotten you, and she hopes you haven’t forgotten her. And she sends her affectionate wishes to all.” Priya smiled. “That’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“Rose was always kind,” said Annie. She felt warm inside, and somehow her aching knees and hands didn’t seem so bad…but then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the mantelpiece. Rose would be a fine lady now, all silks and satins and feathers and jewels. And here was she, drab and plain in her uniform, and no hope of going anywhere but up and down the stairs, up and down, up and down.

“Thank you, Priya.” Annie took the letter back. “If I can do anything to help you, just ask.”

“I…” Priya hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I did want to ask you if…never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

Now Annie was curious. “What?” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Priya, you can ask me anything.”

Priya looked terrified, but she took another breath and started again. “Well, have you ever found Sir William to be…to try and take liberties with you?”

Annie looked at her in shock. Priya was blushing, her thick eyelashes swept down to hide the expression in her eyes. Annie’s shock turned to irritation. Did this girl really think she had caught the eye of the Earl of Westlake’s heir? Did
everyone
in this house have delusions of grandeur?

“No,” Annie said, drawing herself up. “And I can’t imagine he would have any interest in…‘taking liberties,’ as you say, with someone like
you
. I hope you haven’t set your sights on him.”

“No, I—”

“I mean, why would Sir William lower himself?” Annie went on, feeling more and more resentful as she spoke. “You ought to be grateful he’s kind to you—grateful for all this family has done for you. After all,” she sniffed, “think where you’d still be if they hadn’t brought you to England with them.”

She swept to the door. Priya might have her large soft eyes and her slim waist, but she, Annie, had moral dignity. The curate’s sermon from last Sunday echoed in her ears:
Bless the squire and his relations, and always keep our proper stations.
Poor Priya, she thought as she went down the servants’ stairs. If only she had had the advantages of being born in a Christian country, she would know that.