When her meal was finished, Maggie was ready to fall into bed, but first she needed to wash, and polish her teeth. She put her head out the door and looked up and down the hallway, then made a dash for the bathroom Jeremy had pointed out to her earlier.

It was a startlingly luxurious room, quite half the size of Maggie’s bedchamber, with an enormous marble bathtub standing on gracious feet. There was hot and cold running water and a commode with a flushing chain and blue carpet so plush that Maggie’s feet fairly disappeared into it. The bathtub’s faucet was a sculpture of a Grecian girl holding an urn, and when the spigots were turned on, water poured from the statue’s polished vessel.

Delighted, Maggie laughed. She hadn’t planned to take a bath, but now the prospect was too charming to ignore. She put the plug in place, carefully bolted the main door and one leading into another room, and purloined a towel and a washcloth from the shelves of a cabinet that reached from floor to ceiling.

The spacious tub and plentitude of hot water were such luxuries to Maggie that she lingered long after she was clean, lying back and dreaming. Perhaps living in this grand house, almost as a member of the family, and working as a governess would be better than acting. Actresses, unless they had achieved considerable renown, were rarely solvent. Here Maggie would have security, with no worrying about how she was going to buy food or pay rent.

Her eyelids were growing heavy and she sighed, completely content and comfortable for the first time in months.

The brisk rattling of the inside door awakened Maggie with a start.

“Margaret!” shouted Mr. Kirk’s voice from the other side. “Margaret, are you all right?”

Maggie was so mortified that she didn’t even notice that Mr. Kirk had presumed to address her by her given name. In shock, cheeks burning, water splashing everywhere, she lunged for a towel and covered herself before calling back, “Yes—yes, I’m quite all right—I guess I fell asleep—”

A male chuckle sounded from beyond the door. “I see. From now on, please do your sleeping in bed—I was afraid you were drowning. In another minute or so I’d have stormed in there to save you.”

Maggie’s blush was fierce at the prospect, and she struggled and shimmied into her worn flannel night-gown, making the process more difficult by her haste. Having no earthly idea how to respond to Mr. Kirk’s comment, she said nothing at all but merely snatched up her clothes, unlocked both bathroom doors, and ran as fast as she could down the hallway to her own room.