Page 27 of The Wallflower Manifesto
“I am,” Millie agreed with a sheepish smile, allowing herself to be led over to the washbasin like a child while the other woman scrubbed at her fingers with scented soap. The feeling of it, so warm and reassuring, did take some of the urgency out of her body.
There was so much she’d need to remember for Miss Lazarus’s letter, she reasoned. It was a stressful thing, to have to wait to write it all down.
“Irene,” she said, watching the clean water turn murky with the shedding ink. “Are you married?”
“Me?” Irene replied, startled into a laugh. “Not yet! But by winter, I hope. I’ve got a beau.”
“And will you continue in service, once you are wed?” Millie asked, raising her gaze to the other woman’s eyes. “How does that work for women in service, typically?”
“Oh, well, ideally we’d find placement in the same home,” Irene told her, turning to retrieve a fresh towel for her hands. “My man’s a groom, driving carriages and tending the horses and such, so there are many houses that might take us both. Sometimes, married folk live apart on their work days. It’d be daft to cut our wage in half just when we’re starting out, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so,” Millie answered, her brow wrinkled. “But what if you have a baby? Wouldn’t you need a home of your own?”
“Depends on our employer, I suppose,” Irene said cheerily, patting Millie’s dry hands and turning to the closet. “If we have a placement in a country house or the like where the family is always in, sometimes there are allowances for such things among the staff. Most married folk in service don’t have their own houses, though. Why shoulder the expense when part of your wage is room and board, you see?”
“I do see.” Millie’s mind gave a threatening little buzz, ready to start reeling again. “But surely you don’t live here all year. The house is shuttered in the fall and winter.”
“Indeed. This is my third year at this house for the High Season. Hopefully, with the reference from Lady Bentley, I can find something more permanent after she returns to her country home.” Irene smiled. “I live with other girls from the agency in the colder months. There’s a special boarding house for us.”
“Oh,” Millie replied, a little flabbergasted. “There are many moving parts to service that I suppose the rest of the world doesn’t see.”
“I imagine so.” Irene laughed. “You should’ve seen how it was before I got this assignation. I used to have to hop house to house for a night at a time until I’d worked up enough trust to be placed somewhere more permanent. It’s all a bit tedious, finding a good placement in London.”
Yes, the buzzing was definitely back now. Millie had to shake her head to try to clear it enough to arrange her thoughts into words. “Irene, can you go ahead and fetch me that paper before I dress? I really must jot some things down before I head into town.”
Irene paused, withdrawing a dove gray dress with indigo beading, and smiled, setting it on the bed. “Of course, ma’am,” she said. “Right away.”
Millie glanced at her ink-smeared quill and gave a guilty little sigh.
They’d have to wash her hands all over again.
CHAPTER 11
Abe had hoped to slip out the door this morning without being intercepted by his housemate. Freddy, however, caught him at the mirror next to the door, where he was quite simply checking his appearance for a moment before walking outside.
“Why are you preening?” Freddy had asked immediately, leaning against the stair railing and crossing his arms over his chest. “Off to meet someone special?”
“Preening,” Abe had muttered without looking over, attempting to pat a stubborn cowlick of his sandy hair into place in the mirror. “Please.”
The truth was, he’d barely stopped himself from barreling straight out the door when Millie Yardley’s letter had arrived this morning. It was only upon passing this very mirror and seeing the state of himself that he’d changed tack and run upstairs to find something more presentable to wear.
All the windows in the house were open today because of the early summer heat, and Abe had lost even more preciousminutes dousing himself with cool water from his washbowl to ensure he didn’t arrive for this meeting drenched in sweat.
“And you’re going out with your collar open!” Freddy continued, his even, white teeth shining like a beacon from his gloating smile. “What a harlot you are. Who is it, hm? A pretty client? An opera singer you met the night I sent you to the King’s Theatre? Oh! A criminal temptress?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Bentley. Considering the company I’ve kept lately, it’s probably your mother,” Abe snapped, which, unfortunately, only made the other man laugh.
“My mother would devour you whole, Murphy.”
Abe narrowed his eyes and turned to face his antagonizer. “I refuse to be criticized by a man who spends most of his recent days wearing a frilly apron over his shirtsleeves.”
“My apron isn’t frilly,” Freddy replied easily. “Though I’m sure Mrs. Harrison would teach me if I had a mind to add some ruffles. Would you like that, Murphy? Would it make my observations of your fashion sense more palatable?”
“Freddy, there aren’t enough ruffles in all the world,” Abe replied flatly, and took his leave with the sound of more laughter following behind him.
He checked his pocket for the note, relieved to feel it against the linen lining of his jacket. He wouldn’t put it past Freddy to go poking around in his study when he wasn’t home, and the idea of that man discovering that Abe was off to meet his sister-in-law was a particularly unpleasant one for reasons Abe couldn’t quite put his finger on.
The message had been a short one.
