Iris stifled a laugh at the absurdity of it all. After everything that had happened in the past week, it was the lack of a lady’s maid that was not how it should be?

“You’ve never been good with hair,” her mother said. “To have to dress it yourself . . .”

“I will be just fine, Mama,” Iris said. She and Daisy shared a lady’s maid, and when given the choice, the young woman had opted to remain in London. Iris thought it prudent to wait to hire a new maid in Yorkshire. It would make her seem less of an outsider in her new home. Hopefully it would make her feel less of an outsider, too.

She climbed back onto her bed and leaned against the pillows. She felt very young, sitting here like this. She could not recall the last time her mother had come into her bedchamber and sat upon her bed.

“I have taught you everything you need to know to properly manage a house,” her mother said.

Iris nodded.

“You will be in the country, so that will be a change, but the principles of management will be the same. Your relationship with the housekeeper will be of the utmost importance. If she does not respect you, no one will. She need not fear you—”

Iris glanced down at her lap, hiding her somewhat panicked amusement. The thought of anyone’s fearing her was ludicrous.

“—but she must respect your authority,” Mrs. Smythe-Smith concluded. “Iris? Are you listening?”

Iris looked up. “Of course. I’m sorry.” She managed a small smile. “I don’t think Maycliffe Park is terribly grand. Sir Richard has described it to me. I’m sure there will be much to learn, but I believe I will be up to the task.”

Her mother patted her hand. “Of course you will.”

There was an oddly awkward moment of silence, then Iris’s mother said, “What sort of house is it, Maycliffe? Elizabethan? Medieval? Are the grounds extensive?”

“Late medieval,” Iris replied. “Sir Richard said it was built in the fifteenth century, although there have been several alterations over the years.”

“And the gardens?”

“I’m not sure,” Iris said in slow, careful tones. She was certain her mother had not come to her room to discuss the architecture and landscaping of Maycliffe Park.

“Of course.”

Of course? Iris was mystified.

“I hope it will be comfortable,” her mother said crisply.

“I’m sure I shall want for nothing.”

“It will be cold, I imagine. The winters in the north . . .” Mrs. Smythe-Smith gave a little shake. “I couldn’t bear it. You shall have to take the servants in hand to make sure all the fires are—”

“Mother,” Iris finally interrupted.

Her mother halted her rambling.

“I know you did not come here to talk about Maycliffe.”

“No.” Mrs. Smythe-Smith took a breath. “No, I did not.”