“Then why was Mrs. Bywater wasting them on the insipid gents she wants Lady C. to marry?” Tess asked.

“I wonder the same thing, young lady, but it’s not my place to say.” Mr. Davis would say plenty to us, however. He’d likely go on about it for days.

Mrs. Redfern entered, her color high. “Tess, the correct term of address for Lady Cynthia for you is her ladyship. You are not to speak of her in familiar terms, no matter how friendly she is. You’re a kitchen assistant, and you’d do well to remember your place.”

It spoke of Tess’s respect for the new housekeeper that she didn’t stick her lip out and snap a retort. She merely scowled and said, “Yes, Mrs. Redfern. Sorry, ma’am.”

“Make certain you never say it above stairs, or let it come to Mrs. Bywater’s ears that you have. Mrs. Holloway, I am afraid Mrs. Bywater wishes to speak to you.”

“Now?” I scanned the kitchen, which was in turmoil, poor Tess trying to cope with entirely new demands at the last moment.

“I am afraid she won’t wait. She’s unhappy with you for being out past six.”

It was twenty minutes past. “The weather,” I said quickly. “I could not find a hansom, and—”

“Mr. McAdam happened to pass?” Tess sent me a cheeky look.

Mrs. Redfern’s lips pinched. “And make certain there’s no mention of that. Mrs. Bywater is waiting, Mrs. Holloway—”

Sara, the upstairs maid, darted in, her eyes wide. “No, she’s here. She’s come down.” Sara scurried from the kitchen across to the servants’ hall, barely making it inside before we heard the determined click of heels on the slates of the corridor.

“There you are, Mrs. Holloway.” Mrs. Bywater sailed in, her imperious glare all for me.

Tess plunked down her knife and dropped into a curtsy, eyes on the floor. Charlie scrunched into a ball by the fire, trying to remain unseen. Elsie, startled by the woman’s arrival, dropped a plate from her soapy fingers.

The plate shattered on the floor. Elsie squeezed her hands together, her cheeks going red with mortification as she managed a curtsy. Mrs. Bywater closed her eyes, pained, then opened them to fix her glare on me.

“If I may speak to you.” She paused, as though the rest of the staff would instantly clear out of the kitchen, but then swung around, marching rigidly to the servants’ hall. I nervously followed. Sara, trapped inside, curtsied hurriedly, mumbling something.

“Sara, please go upstairs and see if you can persuade my wayward niece to open the door,” Mrs. Bywater said. “Tell her she’ll starve there if she persists.”

Sara fled. Mrs. Bywater barely waited for her footsteps to fade before she turned on me.

“Cynthia refused to have a meal with my guests,” she announced.

“Tess has told me,” I said, trying to sound subdued.