Page 32 of Rescued from Betrayal
Good, the maid recognized her lapse in judgment. Perhaps it would help her watch her tongue next time.
“In the future, Jenny, I suggest you keep your assumptions to yourself if you wish to maintain employment in this or any household.”
The woman’s big brown eyes widened. “Yes, my lady.”
“You are dismissed.”
Jenny curtsied and rushed out of the room.
Melior turned to her lady’s maid. The woman was peering at the door, her lips pressed tightly together and her round cheeks rosy with color. Melior opened her mouth to address the woman then realized she did not recall her name. She tried to remember. Brandle, Batler, Bamler? Something like that. It was a shame it was not Brown; that would have been easy to remember given the woman’s features. Brown hair, brown eyes, even her skin had a bit of a brown tinge, probably from time out of doors without a bonnet.
The maid finally pulled her gaze away from the door, a mutinous look in those brown eyes.
“Do you have any other uncalled-for dispersions to cast upon my character?” Melior asked, tipping her chin up to remind the woman of her place.
The maid stayed silent.
“I am sure I could find another to take your place if I am too temperamental for you.”
The woman’s belligerent expression dropped into one of submission. “No, my lady.”
“Good.”
Silence filled the large room and all of the courage Melior had summoned to deal with the maids fled. Her knees began to shake under her. She quickly crossed to the dressing table and sank down on its plush bench.
“My hair needs dressing and I will be wearing the pearls this evening. You will find the entire set at the bottom of that box.” She motioned with her head to the carved jewelry box her uncle had gifted her.
The maid approached hesitantly and picked up the brush, her arms outstretched and her movements stilted, much as a person might approach a skittish horse.
Smoothing her face into indifference, Melior remained still, except for the tips of her fingers. With her hands splayed on the soft pink velvet of the bench, she subtly moved them back and forth, allowing the texture of the fabric to soothe her nerves.
The maid finally relaxed as she carefully brushed and pinned each dark strand, but Melior’s shoulders remained taut. She’d never worried about reprimanding staff before, so why did it fill her with dread?
Sir Nathaniel’s cool expression from the carriage danced in her memory. He had said friends and neighbors when he’d admonished her, not staff. She glanced at the maid through the mirror.
Perhaps she would not tell anyone. Unlikely. Servants never kept such things to themselves. And if Sir Nathaniel’s character held true, he’d take their side because he would agree with them. He’d implied as much when he’d ordered her to keep her distance from his mother. She had her faults she knew, but did she really appear to have such an inflated view of herself? Was she that demanding?
She did not think so, but who was she to say when her mother had raised her to hold herself above others?
Contemplating her interactions with the servants, she realized her silence to the maid’s pity had most likely offended the woman. It likely had appeared rather pompous, and her stinging words to their assessments of her had not helped matters. She sighed, an unappealing image of who she really had become formed in her mind. Sharp tongued, self-important, and by the expression she’d witnessed on Sir Nathaniel’s face before they had parted… wearisome. Shehadbecome her mother. Another sigh escaped her.
“Do you not like it, my lady?”
Melior examined her hair. “It is lovely, carry on.”
In truth, she missed the expert hands of her previous lady’s maid, but she would not do anything to further tarnish her relationship with this one. Best to hold her peace on the little things and only speak up when necessary if she wished to form the same steady relationship she had enjoyed with Jones. Because for better or worse, this was her home, and she did not want to be cast out of it as quickly as her last.
Chapter 12
Dinner was an awkward affair, with Sir Nathaniel barely speaking to her and her new mother-in-law barely remaining silent. Melior sat to Sir Nathaniel’s left with Lady Stanford directly across from her.
Slowly she chewed her food and listened to Lady Stanford pepper her son with questions about the wedding. The woman rarely waited for more than a few words in answer before she asked another. To his credit, Sir Nathaniel remained completely unperturbed by the swiftness with which his mother made her inquiries.
“And did Lord Roberts attend with Algenon?” Lady Stanford looked expectantly at Melior.
She stopped chewing and wondered if she was to answer.
“No, Mother,” Sir Nathaniel said. “He is still on his wedding tour.”
