Queenie was now looking up at the imposing façade, her mouth wide open, as an estate worker hauled my trunks from the back of the vehicle. I rose to my feet. “I think I had better go and show her where to put my things.”

“And be firm about suitable attire,” the dowager called after me. “It is never wise to give servants any leeway in the matter of individuality or they abuse it, as your girl has done.” She pronounced the word “gell,” as did all the women of her era, and she wagged a finger at me. “Their job is to be invisible and to conform at all times.”

I hurried out to bustle Queenie away from the dowager’s critical eyes and up the stairs.

“Blimey,” she said as we entered my bedroom. “We ain’t half fallen on our feet ’ere, eh, miss? Now this is how real toffs are supposed to live. Not like your bloomin’ sister-in-law and her one piece of toast per person.”

“Queenie, remember what I have told you?” I said. “If you can’t speak politely of your betters, I might have to let you go.”

“Garn,” she said, digging me in the ribs. “I know you can’t afford a proper maid.”

“I’m sure I could find one less improper than you,” I said with a frown. “Now, please unpack my things. Ask the servants where you can find an ironing board and iron and make sure everything is well pressed. Oh, and Queenie—remember, one does not iron velvet on the right side, and please, no more burn marks on my white blouses.”

“Bob’s yer uncle,” she said.

At the door I remembered something and turned back. “Oh and one more thing—this is a great household of the highest social order. The servants here will be well-trained and refined, so please do try to behave like a real lady’s maid and don’t let me down.”

“Don’t worry, me lady. I can talk posh and walk around with me bleedin’ nose in the air with the best of ’em if I want to.”

“And Queenie—no swear words.”

I left her to it and went downstairs again. As I approached the Long Gallery, I heard Cedric’s clipped voice saying, “Exactly why is she here, Mother? This had better not be one of your little schemes.”

Chapter 6

KINGSDOWNE PLACE

Instead of entering the Long Gallery, I turned quickly on my heel and went down the front steps and out into the fresh air. A stiff breeze had now come up and the sun had vanished behind a bank of rather threatening clouds. I wondered if I was being foolish in striking out across the grounds but I didn’t want to be part of the unpleasantness in the Long Gallery. If I’d known my presence would cause disruptions in the family, I wouldn’t have come. Then I corrected that sentiment. I would still rather be here than up in bleak Scotland with Fig.