Secrets and Lords. Justine Elyot
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from the London residence?’
‘Yes.’
‘I suppose you were hoping for a job in Belgrave Square.’
‘I am perfectly happy to work here.’ As an afterthought, she added, ‘ma’am’, finding the word so odd that she had to suppress an embarrassed smile.
Mrs Munn was right, though – Edie had assumed that her application to work for the Deverell family would result in a place in their London residence. The fact that the only opening was at Deverell Hall had been the first snag in the plan. It was only thirty miles from London, but it seemed that a huge ocean stood between Edie and her familiar urban world.
Mrs Munn picked up a piece of paper and sneered at it.
Edie, recognising the character her friend’s mother had written for her, felt her heart skip.
‘Your last place seems to be a respectable house, if not one of the best in society. You will find the scale of things here somewhat different. It may alarm you at first, but if you keep a cool head and attend to your duties first and foremost, you will soon settle.’
A timid knock at the door interrupted Mrs Munn’s flow.
‘One last thing,’ she said, before bidding the knocker enter. ‘There must be no communication beyond that which is strictly necessary between you and the gentlemen of the house. Do you understand me? None whatsoever.’
‘Of course, ma’am. By “gentlemen of the house”, do you mean …?’
‘His Lordship’s sons. The elder in particular.’
‘I see.’
Mrs Munn raised her eyebrow. ‘I hope you do.’ She looked past Edie at the door. ‘Come in, Jenny.’
Jenny was a mouse in human form and parlourmaid’s black-and-whites. She hid in a corner while Mrs Munn instructed her to show Edie her room and help her with her uniform prior to a grand tour of the house.
The servants’ staircase seemed to go up and up for ever. Conversation – a desultory affair – died out after the first flight and, from then on, nothing was heard but puffing and the echo of boots on stone.
‘You’re a London girl, then?’ said Jenny, once they were at the very top of the building, in a low-ceilinged, dark room containing four beds and little else.
‘Yes,’ said Edie, moving instinctively towards the window, against which the rain beat so dismally that little could be seen outside.
‘Most of us here are from Kingsreach and hereabouts. We’ve grown up on Deverell land. You don’t know anything about us.’
Edie turned to the plain little creature, surprised at the edge of resentment in her voice.
‘We’re all of us in the same boat, aren’t we?’ she said. ‘Service. What does it matter where we learned to wax a floor, so long as we wax it well?’
Jenny shrugged and pointed to some folded clothes on the bed furthest from the door. ‘Uniform,’ she said. ‘Hope it fits. You’ve got a lovely figure.’
‘Thanks,’ said Edie. She tried a smile, but the wistful look on the girl’s face caused it to misfire.
‘He’ll have an eye for you,’ said Jenny.
‘An eye for me? Who will?’
‘Charlie Deverell. He tries it on with all the pretty maids.’
‘Well, he won’t try it on with me,’ said Edie stoutly, moving behind a screen and unbuttoning her blouse.
‘Yes, he will. You’re ever so pretty. Even prettier than Susie Leonard, and she had to leave in disgrace when he got her into trouble.’
‘Heavens!’ Edie’s fingers paused on the faux-pearl buttons. This must be what Mrs Munn was driving at before.
‘He denies it was him, but everyone knows it was. Susie didn’t even have a sweetheart. And I’ve seen her with the baby – got his eyes, she has, and his dark hair.’
Dark hair. The man driving the car.
‘Well, I’m no fool and no flash Harry is going to seduce me,’ said Edie briskly. She allowed room for a little pause, removing her skirt in the silence, before changing the subject. ‘What do you think of Lady Deverell? She’s new to the house, isn’t she?’
‘Not so new. Been here a year now.’
‘Is she nice?’
‘My ma always says if you can’t speak well of someone, don’t speak of them at all.’
Edie laughed uncomfortably, her face flushing hot.
‘She’s awfully glamorous, though, isn’t she?’ she said, putting the black dress on. It was a little tight under the bust but, apart from that, a snug fit. ‘I saw her on the stage in London, in one of Mr Bernard Shaw’s plays. She was quite magnetic.’
Jenny sat down on the side of one of the beds.
‘London,’ she said, as if intoning a magic spell. ‘I’d so love to visit the theatre one day. I mean, I’ve seen the Kingsreach Players, everyone has, but the proper theatre. All red and gold, with balconies and plaster cherubs. That’d be smashing.’
‘Well, I suppose you will one day,’ said Edie, trying to steer the conversation back to her preferred subject. ‘But Ruby Redford won’t be treading the boards.’
‘Hush, you’re not to call her that! It’s Your Ladyship and Lady Deverell now. She hates anyone mentioning her past. She’s a bit sensitive about it. Well, more than a bit. You’re best off forgetting it, if you’ve seen her on stage. Not that you’ll get to speak to her much. She don’t have much to say to the servants.’
‘Really? I thought she might be a good mistress to have – since she’s closer to, to our class than most of the gentry.’
‘The opposite. Everyone says the first Lady Deverell was a real smasher, kind and sweet. She gave extra half-holidays when the weather was nice sometimes, and she always asked after your family. This one don’t even acknowledge you. Like I say, she’s funny about her past. She thinks talking to us like we’re people shows her up, I reckon. But we all know that that’s the mark of a someone who ain’t a real lady. But I mustn’t talk like this.’
A flicker of fear had crossed Jenny’s pale face.
‘Not when I don’t know you. You won’t repeat any of this, will you? Do you promise? Not to a soul?’
‘Of course not. What has passed between us is in strict confidence. You may be sure I will observe it.’
‘Gaw, you London girls talk proper, don’t you?’ Jenny’s momentary anxiety had turned to a curious admiration.
‘Oh, not really, I studied my mistress and her daughters at my last place and tried to imitate them. It’s a habit. I expect I shall grow out of it here.’
Jenny stood again, seeing that Edie had tied her apron and pinned on her cap.
‘Well, might be for the best,’ she said. ‘You’ll get teased for it downstairs. Come on. I’m to help you find your feet today. What would you like to see first?’
‘Well, I hardly know. Should we do a wing at a time?’
‘Good idea. Let’s start with the West Wing.’
They sallied forth, black-and-white neatness in duplicate, to the servants’ staircase.
‘The West Wing’s used for visitors and children. We spend less time on it, especially since there aren’t any Deverell children just at the moment. The ground-floor rooms aren’t used at all.’
The West Wing was indeed, though splendid, a little neglected; its carpets threadbare and its wainscots dusty