Chapter Four

      ‘Like it here, do you?’

      ‘Like having me here, do you?’ Lucy returned, equally sarcastic. She knew who’d spoken without taking a look so she finished leisurely positioning Lady Mortimer’s combs on the dressing table before turning to confront the woman behind her.

      Lucy had just about had her fill of Audrey Stubbs spying on her. Since she’d started work at Mortimer House at the beginning of the week, whether she’d been brushing clothes or refilling scent bottles and cosmetic pots, the housemaid had seemed to materialise at the corner of her eye. Audrey could have been hovering on the threshold of her ladyship’s bedroom for some time before Lucy realised she was again being stalked.

      ‘Don’t make a blind bit of difference to me if you’re here or there,’ Audrey answered airily, lazily polishing the brass door knob with her pinafore.

      ‘Could’ve sworn it did,’ Lucy retorted. ‘’Cos ever since I started on Monday you’ve been on me back about something.’ She glanced past Audrey to check nobody was nearby to overhear. ‘What’s got your goat?’ Lucy demanded sharply. ‘I taken a job you was after?’ She’d stabbed a guess at the reason for Audrey’s animosity and seemed to have turned up trumps. The maid’s lips tightened and the malice in her eyes was concealed behind her eyelashes.

      ‘Let’s face it, if you’d been up to the work you’d’ve got it ’cos you was here first,’ Lucy pointed out with vague amusement. ‘Must be a reason why you was overlooked.’ She went back to the dressing table and picked up a delicate comb. She leisurely turned it this way and that. ‘P’raps Mrs Boyd ain’t any keener on you than I am.’

      ‘Think yer clever, don’t you? Coming here ’n’ swanking around, ’cos you managed to land a plum job. I’ve seen you eyeing up the men, don’t think I ain’t.’ Audrey had approached stealthily to jab twice at Lucy’s arm to gain her attention.

      ‘What?’ Lucy glanced over a shoulder, her features crumpled in incomprehension. She’d been used to getting attention from male colleagues when she’d worked at Lockley Grange. But there, or here, she’d never yet met one who’d interested her enough to make her stare back. Since she was a little girl she’d been told she was pretty. But all the Keiver women were lookers in their own way so she had never felt the need to boast about it.

      ‘If Mrs Boyd gets a sniff of how you’ve been carryin’ on with Rory Jackson, you’ll be out on yer ear, and serve you right.’

      Lucy itched to slap the smirk off Audrey’s face but was puzzled by what the housemaid had just implied. ‘Carrying on with Rory?’ she echoed, frowning.

      Rory was one of two chauffeurs who ferried about Lord and Lady Mortimer and their children. Apart from a bit of bantering at breakfast time earlier in the week, when they’d sat next to each other in the servants’ dining hall, she’d had little to do with Rory. They’d passed on the back stairs earlier that day, he descending and she travelling speedily in the opposite direction as she’d been told to fetch her ladyship’s favourite kid boots to be soled and heeled. The lad appointed to run to the cobblers had been impatiently waiting by the kitchen door for her return so she hadn’t dawdled, and had exchanged with Rory just a good morning. The most she could bring to mind about him was that he’d got fair hair, a pleasing face, and looked smart in his chauffeur’s uniform. Suddenly the penny dropped and she realised Audrey probably had a crush on him. Lucy raised her eyes heavenward in an effort to persuade her colleague there was no reason for her to be jealous on that score.

      ‘If you’ve got yer sights set on Rory Jackson, you can have him with my compliments.’

      ‘Not good enough for you, is that it? Proper full of yourself, ain’t you, Miss Keiver?’

      Lucy huffed in disbelief. ‘What’s up with you? Look, I’m telling you you’re welcome to him. From what I’ve seen so far there ain’t one fellow here I’d walk out with, let alone pine over.’ Her tone was all mock sympathy. ‘Now, why don’t you sling yer ’ook so I can get on ’n’ do what I’m supposed to be doing ’stead of listening to your stupid prattle.’

      ‘I’ve met your type before.’ Audrey grabbed Lucy’s arm and jerked her around. ‘Butter wouldn’t melt one minute, then the next you’re round the back o’ the washhouse with yer drawers round yer ankles.’

      ‘Let go of me arm.’

      ‘Why, what you gonna do ... make me?’

      As Audrey’s spittle flecked her face Lucy instinctively shoved a hand hard against her shoulder. Audrey tottered backwards with a grunt of surprise and ended on her posterior on the polished floor just as her ladyship’s maid walked in.

      ‘What the devil is going on here?’ Mrs Boyd barked, her round, bespectacled face a study of shock and disgust.

      ‘Lucy Keiver just pushed me over, Mrs Boyd.’ Audrey had immediately turned on the waterworks and was dabbing at her face with the pinafore she’d whipped up. She scrambled on to her knees and continued whimpering, presenting a picture of hurt innocence.

      Determined to keep the disturbance, which had vexingly occurred on her patch, undetected until she’d had some facts, Mrs Boyd immediately hurried to shut all connecting doors. ‘Explain yourself, Lucy Keiver,’ she hissed.

      ‘I didn’t want this to happen,’ Lucy began. ‘I was just setting out her ladyship’s brushes and combs like you asked me to when Audrey come up behind and started accusing me of stupid stuff.’ She moistened her lips. She didn’t want to tell tales; at the Grange the servants had had an unspoken pact that, barring gross misconduct, they never grassed one another up. But Audrey hadn’t hesitated in immediately putting the blame on her. Lucy had not even finished one full week in her new job. She’d been growing to like it here too, despite having been put in the same dormitory as Audrey Stubbs. All she’d done was try to get the stupid cow to back off and leave her alone. It was her own fault she’d ended up on her backside, snivelling.

      ‘Accusing you of what?’ Mrs Boyd snapped, inclining stiffly forward. ‘Come on, out with it.’

      ‘She thinks I’m flirting with the men. She thinks I’m after Rory Jackson and I only met him Monday and haven’t said more’n half a dozen words to him.’

      ‘I reckon you’ve done more’n that with him,’ Audrey sniped, and narrowed her gaze on Mrs Boyd to gauge the woman’s reaction.

      ‘Enough!’ Clare Boyd had heard about Audrey being involved in a scuffle over a different male employee. Allegedly, she’d been found outside, smoking and flirting with one of the gardeners and a tussle had ensued in the kitchen with another girl. It had been Mrs Venner’s responsibility to sort that one out but apparently she’d let it pass because there’d been no witnesses to the fight and neither girl had made a complaint.

      Mrs Boyd felt relieved that she’d had no hand in taking on Audrey. The housekeeper had been solely responsible for her recruitment. But Clare had been present when Mrs Venner interviewed Lucy Keiver and she had sanctioned her employment. Lucy had seemed to have an honest forthright manner – and an excellent reference from her previous employer – and Clare had believed she’d make a good addition to the household. She sighed to herself. In the old days, before