Manor of Secrets (7 page)

Charlotte couldn’t believe how casual Janie was. She
didn’t struggle to think of something clever to say or start a conversation that the boy could dominate. She just … spoke.

“The dive off the ha-ha was not my fault,” Harry said, scrubbing between his fingers with the lye soap. “I just said I had never seen anyone go off it headfirst. I never imagined you’d think to do it.”

“That was a dare?” Charlotte blurted.

Harry turned around and nearly dropped the soap. He juggled it deftly and turned to place it on the edge of the sink, rinsing his hands before turning around again.

“Lady Charlotte.” Harry’s voice was neutral. No more teasing.

“It was a mistake,” Janie said. Then she frowned and held up a little fruit, inspecting it. It looked wrinkled — like it was past its prime — and was a deep red, almost maroon color.

“What is that?” Charlotte asked, taking a step toward Janie and pointing at the little fruit.

“It’s a chili pepper.”

Charlotte took a step closer. Glanced at Harry.

“Why is he daring you to eat it?” she asked.

“
He
is Harry Peasgood, your hall boy,” Janie said. “And he’s been daring me to do things for the four years I’ve been here.”

Charlotte heard the distrust in Janie’s voice as well as the impertinence. In a way, she felt she deserved it. After all,
hadn’t she gotten Janie’s name wrong? Why did she ever think Janie would want to help her?

Charlotte glanced at Harry again. She knew the hall boy cleaned the boots and kept the gun room tidy and slept in the hall to deter intruders. But like the other downstairs servants, he was hardly ever visible to the family. He looked to be about a year older than she was. He had a crooked smile and eyes almost the same color as his hair.

“Hello, Harry,” she said quietly. And then spontaneously held out her hand. They all stared at it for a moment before Harry grinned at her and shook it swiftly.

“The chili pepper is an acquired taste,” he said, plucking the thing out of Janie’s hand. “They say in India people eat them all the time. In everything. That they stimulate the appetite in the heat.”

Charlotte took another step closer and narrowed her eyes a little.

“But why are you daring Janie to eat it?”

“Because it’s meant to set your tongue on fire,” Janie said, pulling the pepper back out of Harry’s hand and putting it down on the table. She picked up a little paring knife and deftly removed the stem.

“Really?” Charlotte asked. “Is that what makes Indian food so spicy?”

Janie nodded and slit the little fruit down one side, getting ready to chop it.

“May I try?” Charlotte asked, and reached out a hand. Janie backed up, holding the knife in front of her.

“Don’t you know better than to stick your finger under a chopping knife?” she snapped.

“Janie Mae!” Mrs. Seward cried, and the room again dissolved into stillness and silence.

“No.” Charlotte took a step backward. “No, I guess I don’t. But I’d like to learn.”

The other three stared at her like she had just come in from India herself. Like she was something foreign and indescribable.

“Well, then.” The voice came from behind her, deep and vibrating. Charlotte turned as Lawrence walked into the kitchen, his buttons all done up and his jacket brushed. “I say we should all take a chance, then, don’t you think?”

He took Janie’s wrist and slid the knife’s handle out of her grip. He sliced the pepper into four even pieces, left the knife on the table, and placed all four pieces in his palm. He held out his open hand to Charlotte first.

She hesitated. He had never handed her anything other than on a tray before. And never without gloves. She looked up to catch Janie watching, one eyebrow arched.

This was a test. Of her fortitude. But also of her ability to disregard the wall that separated mistress from servant. To prove that she was willing to learn.

Gingerly, Charlotte took one of the pieces from him, her skin touching his. She held the pepper between her finger and thumb, and looked up at his face. His blue eyes lingered on her just a moment too long before he turned to offer a piece to Janie, and finally to Harry. The hall boy hesitated.

“‘Once more unto the breach’?” Lawrence asked, holding up a piece of pepper.

“Once
more
, Lawrence?” Harry asked, his voice dry and a little sarcastic. But he took it.

“To coin a phrase.”

Lawrence turned again to Charlotte.

In fact, all of them were staring at her. As the person with most precedence, she should eat first. Perhaps this was what it felt like to be dared to do something. Charlotte looked down at the pepper in her fingers. The skin was almost waxy, the interior a lighter color, moist and threaded with little creases, speckled by tiny seeds.

She thought of what Janie had said, that the pepper set the tongue on fire. Her courage left her and she stared helplessly at the kitchen maid, hoping for reprieve.

“‘Cry God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’” Janie said and dropped the piece of pepper onto her tongue. Janie’s eyes watered, but she raised an eyebrow at Charlotte. A challenge.

Lawrence laughed and followed suit and Harry close after.

“Water,” Harry gasped and turned to the sink behind him, placing his entire mouth under the spigot. Janie laughed, her cheeks red and the tears streaming freely down her face.

Lawrence hiccuped, his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes squeezed shut. He hiccuped again.

Charlotte knew she’d never be accepted unless she tried this. She’d never be an adventurer — or even a writer — if she didn’t do things that frightened her. She had to prove her mettle if she ever wanted to ask Janie for help.

Charlotte put the piece of pepper in her mouth and chewed until it seemed the very sun of India burned bright upon her tongue.

Janie handed her a glass of milk and raised one of her own in a silent toast.

Charlotte smiled through the fire. “The game’s afoot,” she said.

She had passed the test.

J
anie sat with Harry on an empty crate in the kitchen courtyard. It was just gone ten o’clock at night, but light still streaked the sky, and the heat of the day radiated off the cobblestones.

Janie leaned slightly to the right, resting on Harry’s shoulder so he could take some of the weight off her aching bones. He shifted a little, tilting his head back, his face to the newly visible stars.

Janie closed her eyes, listening as someone picked out a tune on the piano in the servants’ hall. It stuttered to a stop and then began again, and she recognized Lawrence’s baritone singing Harry Champion’s music hall hit, “I’m Henery the Eighth, I Am.” Making Sarah the housemaid laugh.

“Don’t you think it’s odd that Lady Charlotte came to the kitchen today?” Janie asked.

Harry shifted again. “She said she wanted to learn.” He didn’t take his eyes off the stars.

Janie turned her head slightly, looking at his profile. She could see the freckles scattered across his cheekbones.

“But why?” she asked, watching his eyes watch the sky. “Do you think she gets a thrill out of going slumming?” She hoped he would disagree with her. She was beginning to like Lady Charlotte. Janie smiled, thinking of the look on the other girl’s face when the fire of the chili hit her tongue.

Harry finally turned to look at her and smiled back, his face mere inches from hers. “Maybe she just thinks we’re interesting people.”

“She’s got a whole party of people coming on Thursday.”

“Even the aristocracy gets bored. Must be why they hunt and shoot. If you can’t entertain yourself, go kill something.”

“But Lady Charlotte doesn’t shoot.”

“So she comes into the kitchen instead. It’s just as dangerous, Janie, with you there.”

Janie stuck out her tongue.

“And what’s she thinking, making eyes at Lawrence?” she mused out loud.

Harry moved away, the gap of summer air not nearly as warm as his arm had been.

“That’s not the sort of accusation you want to be making too loudly, Janie,” he said. “You could just be nice to her. Her brothers are all out in the real world. She’s probably lonely.” He paused. “Maybe she needs a friend.”

“She’s got the Caldwell girl.”

“You know what most of these people are like — rules come first and people last.” Harry turned back to the stars. “It doesn’t hurt to show a little compassion.”

“Are you trying to say I don’t care about people?” Janie said. “That I’m not compassionate?”

“It’s not what I was saying at all.” Harry refused to rise to her bait. “It seems that there’s something you’re not telling me. That you have other reasons for not wanting her around.”

“I just don’t like change.”

“Change is inevitable, Janie,” Harry said, rising and brushing the dust off of his trousers. “It’s coming whether you like it or not.”

Janie couldn’t look at him. Maybe he was right, but that didn’t mean she had to accept it. She desperately wanted to tell him about her mother’s job offer, but couldn’t. Talking about it would make it seem too real.

Lawrence finished his song with a flourish and a single extended note, Sarah giggling the entire time. Janie sighed.

“Time to check the hall and front door,” Harry said, and left without looking back.

Janie stood, took off her apron, and put it in to soak in the laundry. She stepped into the kitchen, breathing in the scents of soap and coal and lemon and the lingering odors of curry. The table was scrubbed and laid out with the tools for breakfast. Music came again from the servants’ hall — a ragtime waltz. Someone would be dancing.

A movement at the door caught her eye.

Lady Charlotte stood, perched on her toes, one hand on the door frame. She was looking toward the servants’ hall, her head cocked to the side, listening to the music. Her hair was down around her shoulders — a flood of that thick, straight hair. Like water, it was. So different from Janie’s hair, which tended to frizz in the humidity like her mother’s.

Lady Charlotte wore an ill-fitting traveling dress, hastily buttoned. Janie wondered with horror if the girl planned to run away.

“Can I help, Lady Charlotte?” she asked. And realized, in light of her previous thought, that she sounded a bit inconsiderate, so she amended herself. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I … I heard music.” Lady Charlotte blushed a little and slipped into the kitchen, backing up against the wall. Like she didn’t want to be seen.

“Sometimes at night, someone plays the piano,” Janie said. “They move the table to the side and dance.”

“Dancing? With each other?” Lady Charlotte looked like she was about to go investigate.

A surge of fear caught Janie in the chest. If Lady Diane found out, would she put a stop to the nightly dancing? If she found out that Janie had told Lady Charlotte, would Lady Diane shoot the messenger?

“After all the work is done,” Janie said quickly. “And nothing inappropriate.”

“Do you dance?” Lady Charlotte turned back to her, and again Janie saw the look of excitement fill her eyes.

“I like the hesitation waltz,” Janie replied.

“Hesitation?”

“It’s new. Instead of turning with every measure, you take an entire three beats to brush forward or back or to the side. Your feet don’t move much.” She could see Lady Charlotte didn’t know what she was talking about. “Watch.”

Janie put her arms around an imaginary partner. “One, two, three,” she counted with the music, spinning around the kitchen in a normal waltz step. Then she came to the next
measure and slid her right foot to the side for almost the bar, pausing minutely to bring her left in before sliding the left to the side for the next count.

“But that’s easy,” Lady Charlotte said, stepping farther into the room.

Janie thought about what Harry had said. About Lady Charlotte needing a friend.

“Come and try it,” Janie said. She held her arms out.

“With you?” Lady Charlotte asked.

“I don’t see anyone else here.”

Lady Charlotte grinned and put a hand on Janie’s shoulder. “You’re a bit shorter than what I’m used to.”

Janie laughed. “The housemaids always dance together down here. There aren’t enough eligible men to go around.” She almost bit her tongue to retract the statement. It sounded like she was looking for a boyfriend.

But Lady Charlotte nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. The last dance I went to, I had to sit on the side the entire time. Mother would only let me dance with the boys I know because I’m not out in society yet. I danced twice with Andrew Broadhurst.”

“Lord Broadhurst is very good-looking,” Janie said, stepping into the waltz and dragging Lady Charlotte with her. Then she realized they were both trying not to lead, so she
changed her stance and nodded, and they started again. This time with Janie leading.

“Is he?” Lady Charlotte mused.

Janie thought of the young man she’d seen a few times, walking from car to house or out in the garden. And once even in the kitchen, asking her mother about the cakes. He was tall and slender, with strikingly dark brown eyes.

“I think so,” she said. “Definitely dance-worthy.”