Blackie stood gaping at her, totally surprised by the change in her appearance. She now wore a navy-blue dress like Cook’s, a starched white pinafore, and a white cap perched on top of her head. Her hair had been covered in a scarf until a moment ago, and now its gorgeous auburn color shot through with gold was visible.

Aside from its vivid color, her hairline came to a widow’s peak in the middle of her broad forehead. Her hair was wound into a bun at the back. The effect, in general, was elegant. Her emerald-green eyes shone in the morning light.

Why, she’s already a beauty, Blackie thought to himself, filled with amazement. Rousing himself, he went to the cupboard, hung up his jacket, scarf and cap and joined Emma at the hearth.

Cook brought them both mugs of chicken broth, and they sat down to drink it, while warming themselves in front of the flames.

“Is Mrs. Wainright coming today?” Emma asked, looking across at Cook, her expression eager.

“Aye, she is, and I’m right thankful for that, I can tell ye. She allus restores order here and gets things on an even keel, keeps things shipshape,” Mrs. Turner said, more of an explanation for Blackie than anything else.

Emma looked pleased on hearing this, and then said to Blackie, “Mrs. Turner’s husband was in the Royal Navy, and now so is her son. That’s why she uses a sailor’s words.”

Blackie grinned. “I like ’em, though. ‘Shipshape’ is my favorite, because I like everything ter be neat and tidy.”

Cook nodded in agreement, and then asked Blackie if he would like a bacon butty before going outside into the cold weather to work.

He exclaimed, “Faith and that would be a treat, Cook! I thank ye. ’Tis generous ye are.”

Smiling, Mrs. Turner went to the table in the middle of the kitchen and cut slices of freshly baked bread, asking Emma if she wanted a sandwich also. She slathered butter on the slices and added thick strips of bacon.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry, Cook,” Emma said. “I’d better get me cleaning stuff together before Murgatroyd comes in looking for me.”

“Aye, do that, lass; he’s a bit on the warpath this morning. Got out of bed the wrong side, I ’spect.”

Emma knelt down in front of another cupboard, taking out different products, black lead, small brushes, and dusters, piling them in a bucket.

Mrs. Turner said, “It’ll be a bit hard for ye today, love, what with Polly sick and Mrs. Wainright coming. Do the black-leading first, then set the fires and dust the dining room. I’ll set the breakfast table for ye, so ye can get upstairs and make the beds. And dust Mrs. W.’s room—” Cook broke off when the door burst open and the butler came rushing in, a grim look on his face.