“Oh, I see.” Now I didn’t know whether he was genuinely concerned for my welfare or had just decided that I was too straightlaced and boring to be bothering with anymore. He must have noticed my face fall.

“Don’t worry about it. The world is full of parties. You haven’t seen the last of me, I promise you that,” he said. He put a finger under my chin, drew me toward him, and brushed my lips with the lightest of kisses. Then he was gone.

And I stood there, watching the dust motes dance in the morning sunlight, half wishing for what might have been.

I had finished the bedrooms and finally plucked up courage to attack that drawing room. There was no way I was going to take out those Persian rugs and beat them, the way any good servant would have done. I ran a sweeper over them and then started to sweep the dust off that vast parquet floor. I was down on my hands and knees, sweeping the area around the drawing room fireplace, when I heard men’s voices. Before I could do anything sensible such as hide behind the nearest suit of armor, the voices came closer. I kept my head down and brushed away furiously, praying that they wouldn’t come in here, or at least not pay any attention to me.

“So your parents are arriving today?” One of the voices floated toward me, echoing from all that marble in the foyer, even though he was speaking softly.

“Today or tomorrow. Not sure. Better stay away, just in case, or I’ll have the mater going on at me again. You know what she’s like.”

“So when will I see you?”

The voices had reached the open doorway on the far side of the living room. Out of the corner of my eye I recognized the stiff, upright bearing of the son of the house, the Hon. Roderick (Whiffy) Featherstonehaugh, and behind him, in shadow, another tall and lanky young man. I turned my back to them and kept sweeping, hoping to build up a cloud of dust around me. The sounds of my brush hitting against the brass fender must have startled them.

There was a pause and then Whiffy said, “Pas devant la bonne.”

This was the standard phrase for times when something was about to be discussed not suitable for servants’ ears. It means, “Not in front of the maid,” for those of you who are not conversant with French.

“What?” The other man asked, then obviously spotted me. “Oh oui, I see. Je vois.” Then he continued in atrocious French. “Alors. Lundi soir, comme d’habitude?” (Meaning, “Monday night as usual?”)