Mrs. Redfern was efficient, fair, and competent, but like me, she brooked no nonsense. I was used to coming and going somewhat as I pleased—Mr. Davis, while he was curious or disapproving of my unplanned outings, did nothing to stop me. Mrs. Redfern was a bit more exacting.

“I beg your pardon,” I said, trying to sound contrite. “I did not realize you’d waited up for me.”

“I only wished to bolt the door.” Mrs. Redfern moved past me into the scullery and did so, giving the scullery itself a quick glance before reemerging. “I have no intention of being a telltale, Mrs. Holloway, but I happened to notice you returning with Mr. McAdam.”

My face warmed, and I busied myself hanging up my coat and dripping hat. “He was good enough to walk me home in the rain, yes.”

“More than that, I think. Tess was gleeful you’d slipped out to meet him. She is romantic.” Mrs. Redfern’s tone indicated she would never be so. “Do have a care, Mrs. Holloway. Mr. McAdam is an unsavory sort, and Mr. Davis agrees. Consider that this man asked you to see him on such a night, so late. I speak only as one concerned.”

I had considered it, and I’d rushed straight into the darkness to find him. Perhaps I was not so impervious to charming gentlemen as I’d claimed to Daniel.

Mrs. Redfern seemed to be waiting for an explanation—or apology perhaps? “His son told me it was important,” I said. A truth.

“And was it?”

“I believed it so.” I had no intention of regaling her with the full tale.

“I fear that you will come to grief over him,” Mrs. Redfern said, her sternness relenting a bit. “If it is ever hinted that you are less than respectable, Mrs. Holloway, you could lose your post, and what would become of you?”

Her concern was real, and she was right. In spite of her rigid manner, I knew Mrs. Redfern spoke out of worry, not admonition. At least, not much admonition.

“No harm done,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “I did go out to speak to Mr. McAdam, but as we were also conversing with a vicar, my virtue was in no danger.”

“A vicar?” Mrs. Redfern looked alarmed, as though convinced I was about to elope with Daniel.

“He is a . . . friend . . . of Mr. McAdam’s,” I said quickly. “Nothing untoward. The man is on the board of the Foundling Hospital, in fact. Good night, Mrs. Redfern.”

She regarded me in grave suspicion but at last gave me a stiff nod. “Good night, Mrs. Holloway.”

Mrs. Redfern remained in the middle of the kitchen as I departed for the long climb to my bedchamber. I heard her closing doors behind me, and it grew very dark as she put out the last of the lamps.

*   *   *