The rest of the day passed in a whirl. The Duchess helped her to find more keys, made sure that her things were sent to the little room in the attic and arranged for her salary. When it was nearing supper time, she left to return to her own home, which was only a few miles away. Daphne felt her absence. It was almost as if she had made a friend of the woman, she had been so solicitous.

      But now she must strike out on her own, and find the evening meal. Which led to the question—where did the governess usually eat? She struggled to think if she had ever seen one at her own family’s table, or dining with the family in the home of friends. But it was possible, even if they had been there, she would not have noticed. She doubted that they were encouraged to call attention to themselves.

      She strolled down the passages of the ground-floor rooms, and found the dining room closed and dark. Wherever the Colton family ate, it was not a formal thing. But if servants were not waiting at table, then they must be below stairs, having a meal of their own. She went to the same stairway that would lead to her room if she followed it upwards to the end. She took the stairs downwards instead, and came out into a large open room with a long oak table set for supper. The servants were already gathered around it.

      She came forwards and sat down at a place somewhere about the middle, offering a cheery ‘hello’ to the person next to her, who appeared to be a parlourmaid.

      The room fell silent for a moment, and the housekeeper looked down the table toward her. Without a word, the woman went to the sideboard for a fresh plate, for the person Daphne must have displaced. This was handed down the table, and there was much shifting and giggling as the servants around her reorganized themselves according to their rank. It appeared that servants had a hierarchy every bit as structured as that of a fine dinner party above stairs. And Daphne had wandered in and disrupted things with her ignorance.

      Once things were settled again, the housekeeper, Mrs Sims, announced, ‘Everyone, this is Miss Collins. She is the new governess that her Grace hired for the children.’

      The staff nodded, as though they did not find the Duchess’s interference to be nearly so unusual as the presence of a governess at the servants’ table.

      The housekeeper favoured her with another nod. ‘In the future, Miss Collins, you are welcome to eat in your room or with the children. No one here will think you are putting on airs.’ She said it rather as a command, not a request.

      It rather put a crimp in her plans to gather intelligence below stairs. ‘Thank you, Mrs Sims. I was rather at a loss today as to what was expected. But I am sure this shall be all right, tonight at least. I wished to meet you all.’ She smiled around the table.

      And was met by blank looks in return, and mumbled introductions, up and down the table.

      ‘Where did the previous governess eat?’ she asked by way of conversation.

      ‘Which one might you mean? There have been three since the lady of the house died. And many more before that. They all ate in the little dining room in the nursery wing.’

      ‘So many.’ It did not bode well for her stay here. ‘What happened to them? I mean, why did they leave?’ For the first sounded far too suspicious.

      Mrs Sims frowned. ‘Of late, the children are difficult. But you will see that soon enough.’

      And there was mention of the difficulties again. But in her brief meeting with them, they had not seemed like little tartars. ‘I am sure they are nothing I cannot handle,’ she lied, really having no idea how she might get on with a house full of children.

      ‘Then you are more stalwart than the others, and more power to you,’ said the butler, with a small laugh. ‘The first could not control them. And the second found them disturbing. The third…’ he gave a snort of disgust ‘…had problems with little Sophie. Thought the poor little mite was the very devil incarnate.’

      ‘Sophie?’ Having met the girl, this was more than hard to believe.

      ‘The master caught Miss Fisk punishing the girl. She had been forcing Sophie to kneel and pray for hours on end, until her little knees were almost raw with it. And the older children too frightened to say anything about it.’ The housekeeper shook her head in disapproval. ‘And that was the last we saw of Miss Fisk. Lord Colton turned her out of the house in the driving rain, and threw her possessions after her. He said he had no care at all for her safety or comfort, if she did not care for the comfort of his children.’

      ‘Served her right,’ announced the upper footman. ‘To do that to a wee one.’

      ‘You’ll think so, if he finds reason to turn you out, I suppose?’ asked another.

      The boy smirked. ‘I don’t plan to give him reason. I have no problem with the children.’

      ‘Or the neighbours,’ said another, and several men at the table chuckled.

      ‘The neighbours?’ Daphne pricked her ears. ‘Do you mean the Duke and Duchess?’

      The housekeeper glared at the men. ‘There are some things, if they cannot be mentioned in seriousness, are better not mentioned at all.’

      The butler supplied, in his dry quiet voice, ‘Relations are strained between our household and the manor.’

      ‘But Lord Colton seemed to get on well enough with the Duchess.’

      ‘There is nothing strange about that, if you are implying so.’ The housekeeper sniffed. ‘The master has no designs in her direction.’

      ‘No,’ said one of the house maids with a giggle, ‘his troubles were all with the Duke. Her Grace wishes to pretend that nothing is wrong, of course. But she was not here for