I nodded, but in the back of my mind, I was thinking that despite her good looks, her limping might have driven some romances away before they had a chance to start. Or worse yet, her brother might not have wanted to lose his personal maid, her future be damned. My mother would say that just like any other selfish man, he wasn’t at all concerned about her needs, her dreams, only his own comfort.

“I mean,” she quickly added, “I wouldn’t count Mr. Foxworth that way.”

“Your brother brought him to your house?”

She nodded. “When he was visiting his factory, he mentioned that my aunt had recommended me, and he asked to meet me. I suppose my brother couldn’t refuse him. When Mr. Foxworth came, it was like an interview for a job. It was a surprise, but I had our home in good order.”

“Yes, I suppose it was quite the surprise.”

I wanted to ask more questions, but I was afraid of the answers I might be given. I couldn’t imagine any young woman not having a crush on Garland the moment she saw him.

“I’ll take that bath,” I said.

I went to my suitcase and took out the dress I had bought just for this night. It had a flared and gored skirt and a tiny boned bodice with elbow-length sleeves. My hourglass figure wouldn’t be well hidden. I doubted Garland’s mother’s wardrobe had anything like it.

“I’ll be wearing this.”

She nodded and smiled. “Very pretty, indeed, ma’am.”

I considered her a moment. I didn’t like her calling me ma’am even though I realized a servant should address the mistress of the house this way, but somehow, even though I was younger, the way she said it made me sound much older. There was too much forced deference. I was more comfortable with girls who were envious. I guessed I’d have to get used to it and let it go. I imagined Garland would not approve of her calling me Corrine. Soon she could call me Mrs. Foxworth anyway.

It was curious how I hadn’t thought of that until this very moment. Could I get used to it, to being known as Mrs. Foxworth? Right now, it seemed more like a shoe that wouldn’t quite fit, a shoe that squeezed my toes. I supposed it was the same for any young girl about to change not only her name but her whole life.

Dora surprised me by remaining in the bathroom preparing washcloths and towels. I looked at the filled tub. It had a sawn-oak trim rail and sat on a cast-iron frame and legs. There was a decorative scroll design on the legs.

“Are all the bathrooms this nice?” I asked.

“All I’ve seen, ma’am.”