Page 6 of A Housekeeper for the Earl of Drinkwater
I have excellent housekeeping skills, as I learned all about running a household from my father. There is no housekeeping task I cannot manage, and it is work that I enjoy.
Thank you for your time. I will be anxiously awaiting your reply.
Sincerely,
Serena White
She hesitated, scrutinizing her short letter critically. She regretted not having more to add, particularly in the way of references and experience. She prayed that a lack of such things would not hurt her chances of being taken on by the agency, and that she would receive a swift, favourable reply.
This is what these agencies are for,she reminded herself. People who did not have any work experience often relied on employment agencies to help them get started. It was the people who already had experience who succeeded in finding work on their own. She was sure the company would be able to help her, too.
She realized she would also have to write to Mr. Tate, as well, asking him to call on her at his earliest convenience. He was the last person she wanted to see, but she needed to speak with him about the missing ledgers. She hurriedly scrawled out the letter, shuddering at merely writing his name.
Feeling accomplished, and with a new sense of hope, Serena carefully tucked both the letters into envelopes. Then, she hurried from the townhouse, letters in hand and walked down to the village post box to post them. She prayed for favor from the heavens as she put the letters in the box. It was a lovely day, so she kept a more leisurely pace on her way back home.
As she walked, she imagined what it would be like to work as a housekeeper for some noble family. Would they be kind? Would she enjoy working for someone else? She believed she might, as she knew the tasks well. Even if she were to be hired by someone proud or cold, she expected she would find comfort in her work.
Even a cruel employer would be preferable to the alternative. She knew, if she did not find a job in the next few weeks, that she would be forced to reconsider marrying Mr. Tate. The thought chilled her to the bone, despite the warm breeze. She wrapped her arms protectively around herself.
I can never allow that to happen.I must not!
Chapter Four
The longer he searched for his parents without finding any sign of them, the worse the dread became for Edward. And the fact that there was not a single servant to be found was almost as alarming as the state of his family home.
The whole interior of the downstairs level was dark, leaving him to find his way through the debris and litter using only the sunlight coming in through the windows.
With a pounding heart, Edward reached the staircase leading to the upper floors of the mansion. He ascended as though not of his own will, wincing at the creak and groan of stairs that had once been finely polished and cleaned. The fear mounted within him with each step, and, by the time he reached the second floor, he felt sick with foreboding.
His footsteps echoed loudly as he reached the second story landing. He shivered at the chill in the air, wondering if he was imagining it, or if the house was really so cold. He tried not to hear each of his echoing footfalls as he made his way down the hall. He didn’t consciously realize he was heading to his mother’s boudoir until he was just a few paces away from her door.
When the door opened, the first sound he heard that was not of his own making since entering the house, he yelped, leaping back, and raising his fists, as though preparing for a fight. The unfamiliar young woman who was exiting his mother’s room nearly dropped a tray of untouched food in her shock at seeing him.
“Oh, heavens,” she gasped, her voice trembling and frightened. “You gave me a terrible start.”
Edward bowed, quickly putting his fisted hands behind his back, and giving her an apologetic smile.
“I am Edward Taylor,” he said. “I do not recall having seen you before.”
The young woman curtseyed as best she could while balancing the full tray.
“My name is Emily, my lord,” she said. “I am the last remaining maid.”
Edward glanced around, nodding.
“That would explain why I have not seen any other servants,” he said. “What has happened?”
Emily looked petrified, and she did not answer his question.
“The countess is very ill,” she said. “She received a terrible shock a few days ago. She has not spoken a word since. I have been caring for her, but I cannot get her to eat or drink. I fear the situation is very grave.”
Edward stepped toward her slowly, so as to not frighten her again.
“What happened?” he asked again. He was trying to keep his voice calm, but Emily’s words had sent his sense of dread soaring.
The maid looked away, visibly uncomfortable. She shifted the tray in her hands, trying to maneuver around Edward.
“I will fetch Mr. Clarke to explain everything to you,” she said. “Please, excuse me, your lordship.”
