Justine Elyot (12 page)

Not any more.

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Mrs Munn had a face to sour the milk.

The atmosphere at the table was subdued, with much yawning after the previous late night. The last guests had not retired until three, and somebody had had to clear up after them.

‘Everyone’s leaving after breakfast,’ said Jenny, stirring her porridge with a listless hand. ‘Thank God.’

‘No more big events for a few weeks,’ said the butler briskly. ‘Well done, everyone. You did Deverell Hall proud.’

A few eyes turned, swiftly and surreptitiously, to Edie, as if to say
What about her?
But nobody said anything.

After breakfast, Mrs Munn rose and said, ‘Edie, I’d like to see you in my office, please.’

Panic twisted inside her, shortening her breath.

She followed Mrs Munn out of the kitchen, hearing susurrations at her back. Rumours, gossip. Was she going to be sacked?

She sat opposite, waiting for the death knell to sound.

‘I don’t know how to put this,’ opened Mrs Munn.

Yes, definitely the sack, then, though she couldn’t imagine Mrs Munn finding the words that hard to speak.

‘I’m terribly sorry about the crystal,’ she blurted in mitigation.

‘Never mind the crystal, that’s not what I want to talk to you about.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No. I’ve had a rather unusual request, from Lady Deverell.’

Edie bristled, feeling goose pimples rise on her skin.

‘Lady Deverell?’ she whispered.

‘She seems to have taken a fancy to you. She wants you to be her lady’s maid.’

‘She …?’

‘Yes, it’s highly irregular. I’ve explained that you have no experience in that role and can barely manage parlourmaid duties but …’

She made a strange whistling sound, which was presumably meant to indicate the mysterious whims of the grand and great.

‘Does she not already have a maid?’

‘Indeed she does! And a very good one. Poor Sylvie, what is she to do?’

Edie was lost for words. She felt she ought to turn the job down but, for one thing, she was not sure she could if Lady Deverell wanted her and, for another, it was a marvellous and unexpected gift, a huge step towards achieving what she had come here for.

Unlucky Sylvie, yes – but if she knew the real state of things, perhaps she might be able to look upon her demotion with a little less rancour.

‘What should I do, Mrs Munn?’

‘Do? What a question. You have no choice in the matter. If Lady Deverell wants you, then she must have you. Go and remove your belongings from the dormitory. You will have a room of your own, upstairs from Her Ladyship’s.’

‘A room of my own?’

‘Yes, and of course you have seen that Sylvie’s uniform is of better quality material that what you are wearing now. It need not be so hard-wearing. You will take your meals in here with me and you will not mix with the other servants except on special occasions.’

‘Did Lady Deverell … say anything? I mean, did she say why?’

‘I haven’t the slightest idea. Now do go and pack your things. I suppose I have an advertisement to draft.’

***

Edie took each step on the long climb to the servants’ quarters slowly, to counteract the mad gallop of her mind.

Why on earth had Lady Deverell asked for her? Did she know something? What could she know?

Exhilaration was tempered by fear. She had no idea how to be a lady’s maid. She would have to do her hair – how could she possibly manage? She would fail and then she would be thrown out. But before that happened, perhaps she and Lady Deverell would forge a friendship, a relationship. How wonderful that would be.

She packed her few possessions back into the bag she had brought, then carried it down to Mrs Munn’s office.

‘Order of the boot?’ asked Giles, with polite sympathy, as she passed him on the stairs.

‘No, quite the opposite – promotion,’ she told him.

‘Promotion? Really? You’ve only been here five minutes.’

‘I don’t understand myself, I’m afraid.’

‘Who’re you taking over from?’

‘Sylvie.’

He whistled and then stood with his mouth open for so long that Edie felt the need to escape.

‘Don’t ask me,’ she said, hurrying down again. ‘Ask Her Ladyship.’

***

Mrs Munn, her face grimly set, led her to Lady Deverell’s rooms in the East Wing, then up a level to the floor overhead, where the rooms were smaller and mostly unoccupied.

‘This is your room,’ she said, opening the door.

Inside, Sylvie sat on the bed, sobbing loudly. An open valise half-filled with belongings thrown higgledy-piggledy lay on the floor.

‘Oh.’ Edie turned to Mrs Munn in distress. ‘Surely there must be some time for Sylvie to …’

‘Lady Deverell wants you from today. The room’s yours now. Sylvie must sleep in your old bed for tonight. If she wants your job as well, she can have it. Otherwise, she must find her own alternative.’

‘It is cruel,’ raged Sylvie, looking up at them. ‘Lady Deverell is cruel. I have been an example of a good lady’s maid. But she is not a real lady and now it is clear. Oh, now it is so clear.’

‘I won’t listen to this, Sylvie,’ admonished Mrs Munn. ‘Finish your packing and come to my office in your own clothes, please.’

‘She will steal my uniform? It will not fit her. She is too tall.’

‘I will provide Miss Prior with her uniform. Bring yours with you when you come down.’

Edie stepped into the room, taking her life in her hands.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘I’ll leave you to sort yourselves out,’ said Mrs Munn, retiring.

‘You are sorry? That is no good to me. Take your sorry, keep it. It will not feed me or my family in Rouen.’

‘I didn’t seek this position. You are undoubtedly better suited to it than I am. If it were up to me, I’d ask Lady Deverell to keep you.’

Edie wasn’t sure she meant this, but it seemed to soften the Frenchwoman a little. She dabbed her eyes, sniffed and threw a cosmetics bag into the suitcase.

‘I don’t want to work for her anyway.
Putain
.’

She threw a jar of face cream on top of the other things.

‘Don’t you like her?’

‘She is silly, spoiled, vain, vulgar, stupid.’ With each epithet, Sylvie added another item to her case, hurling them so hard Edie thought they might break.

She stood well back and made for the large square window. What a light and pleasant room this was. She lifted the sash to allow some of the warm, over-ripe August air in.

She thought it best to say nothing more. Sylvie clearly needed to give vent to her sorrow and rage, and she had no intention of standing in her way.

Instead she looked out at the departing cars and carriages crowding the drive, while Sylvie threw things and ranted in French.

Having slammed the valise shut, the ousted maid remembered Edie’s presence and turned to her.

‘I will be gone from here soon,’ she said. ‘I have decided to go to London. But I will give you one warning. Keep your eyes and your ears shut. Things are going on in this house that you don’t want to know about. I am happy to be away from it all. Happy, I tell you! I pass it to you, willingly.’

Edie supposed that she meant the affair between Lady Deverell and Charles, but she mustn’t give herself away, so she merely shook her head and wished Sylvie the best of luck for her future.

Sylvie gave her a look of disgust and flounced out, valise in hand.

Edie sat down on the bed – more comfortable than the one she had failed to become accustomed to upstairs – and tried to accept that she was now Lady Deverell’s personal maid. She wondered what Charles would make of the appointment. Would this ease or hinder their plans? It would make any liaison difficult to conceal from Her Ladyship, she supposed.

The thought of Charles induced a flutter and she lay down on the bed, suddenly weak. She was still there when there was a knock on the door and a stone-faced Jenny appeared, some garments over her arm.

‘Your new uniform,’ she said, throwing them on the bed. ‘Got yourself comfy, I see.’

‘It’s a stroke of luck. I wasn’t expecting it.’

Edie sat up and fingered the lacy edges of her apron.

‘I’ll bet. You seem to have one of those faces that fit. Well, I wish you joy of it.’

She stalked off.

It didn’t matter if she was unpopular in the servants’ hall, Edie reminded herself. She would hardly have to spend any time down there any more.

She tried on the new uniform and found that it fitted her much better than the last, arranging itself around her bust and hips so that her silhouette curved gracefully in and out in all the right places. The little cap was trickier to pin to her hair than the plain cotton affair she had worn before. It was delicate, trimmed with Brussels lace, and she was hardly aware she had it on. Only the mirror revealed the truth.

She was still looking at the figure she cut as a lady’s maid when the door to the chamber opened again – no knocking this time – and Lady Deverell stood behind her, still in her dressing gown with her mane of red hair about her shoulders.

Never having seen her so, Edie was struck almost dumb.

‘Oh,’ she said, whirling around. ‘I’m sorry.’ Though what she was apologising for, she couldn’t really say.

‘Sylvie’s gone, then, has she?’

‘Only just.’

‘Thought she’d kick up more of a fuss, to be honest.’

Edie agreed she had every right to, but kept her opinion to herself. She should curtsey! Why hadn’t she curtsied?

Her quick awkward bob made Lady Deverell laugh.

‘Mrs Munn said you were inexperienced. She’s always right, of course. Good old Munn. That just made me want you more.’

‘If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’m not really sure why you wanted to engage me.’

‘Oh, darling, it doesn’t do to question these things. I’m your gift horse.’ She bared all her teeth, big and gleaming. ‘Don’t look me in the mouth, whatever you do.’

‘I’m very grateful, of course, but …’

‘But?’

‘I’m afraid you might find me a little inexpert after Sylvie. With hair, in particular.’

‘Darling, I know how to dress hair. I’m better at it than half the lady’s maids in England. No.’ She sat down in the wicker chair beside the bed. ‘I don’t need a coiffeuse.’

Edie laid one palm flat on the dressing-table surface. She felt the need of its support. Lady Deverell had a most peculiar look in her eye.

‘When I first saw you, last week at the charity dinner, something about you drew my eye straight away. It wasn’t your clumsiness, either, though plenty of people noticed that. I felt as if I knew you, as if we’d met before. I’ve been racking my brains all week and I simply must ask you. Have we?’

‘No, ma’am, never. I have … seen you before. But you wouldn’t have noticed me. I was in the audience.’

‘Oh, you’ve seen me on stage?’ Lady Deverell stared. ‘You’ve been to London?’

‘I’m from London, ma’am.’

‘Really? Not a bumpkin like the other parlourmaids? How extraordinary. What possessed you to come here?’

‘I wanted a change of air.’

Lady Deverell clearly found this as unbelievable as her stepson had. She let the words linger in both of their ears, a smile slowly curving to the fullest extent.

‘How fascinatingly opaque. Well, you’ve certainly found that here. The back of beyond. Ditchwater is relatively exciting.’

‘I’ve been too busy to think of anything, ma’am.’

‘Of course. A servant’s life is much the same in Mayfair as in Kingsreach. So we are not acquainted?’

Edie shook her head, not trusting her voice.

‘I’m not the only person to notice you, of course,’ Lady Deverell continued, still with her wide, beguiling smile.

Edie knew she was supposed to supply some filler for the ensuing pause.

‘Aren’t you, ma’am?’ she said helplessly, feeling that she knew what might be coming next.

‘Oh, come now. We all know when a man’s interested in us, don’t we? You’ve grown up in London, as I did. I could spot a prospective suitor from the age of eight.’

‘A man, ma’am? I was asked to the picture palace by His Lordship’s chauffeur, if that’s what you –’

‘That’s not what I mean, and you know it.’ The smile was thinning out now, cracking at the corners.

‘I hardly know …’

Edie looked desperately at the window. There was no other escape route.

‘Are you a sly one, Edie Prior? Are you a little liar? Or are you truly a naïve little fool, as you try to make out?’

Edie shook her head, her body in revolt, her palm slippery against the shiny dresser now.

‘If I’ve noticed him looking, I’m sure you have. Sir Charles. My beloved stepson.’

‘I don’t …’

‘Keep clear.’

‘I’ve heard the rumours.’

‘They’re all true.’ She paused. ‘Just out of interest, what rumours have you heard?’

‘A girl had his baby. Former parlourmaid, I believe.’

‘Oh, that one. Yes, that’s definitely true. And you don’t want to follow in her idiotic footsteps, I presume? He didn’t marry her, did he? And he won’t marry you.’

‘I never thought for a moment –’

‘Good. Gold-diggers don’t prosper here at Deverell Hall.’ She paused and chuckled.

Edie hardly knew where to look. She could hardly laugh along with her.

‘Except me, of course,’ said Lady Deverell. ‘But there’s only one Ruby Redford. Truly original, truly unique. That’s what the drama critic at the
Standard
said, and I’m pretty sure the Deverell men would agree with him.’

She looked towards the door at that and lowered her voice.

‘If you’re to be my lady’s maid, Edie, there are certain things you should know. But if I tell you, you must be clear that they must never, ever be repeated. Not to anybody – none of the servants, not even your closest friend.’

‘I’m not a tattler, ma’am, never have been.’

‘You’ll find out eventually, so I might as well tell you now. When His Lordship’s away, as he is once a fortnight or so, I sometimes receive a visitor.’

Edie could scarcely believe Lady Deverell was about to confess her affair with Charles, and she felt sure the flush of her countenance gave away her prior knowledge, but she simply swallowed and waited for more.