She found Charlotte and Pitt’s suite of rooms in the main house after asking one of the upstairs maids. She knocked and went in. There was a large bedroom with a rose-colored carpet. Huge windows overlooked a large lawn with towering blue fir trees, and to the left was a flat-topped cedar which was the loveliest thing she had ever seen. It spread wide and delicate, almost black-green against a windy sky. The curtains were splashed with roses and had wonderful swags and drapes and cords in crimson.
“Oh blimey!” she said in a gasp, then caught herself just in time. There was someone in the dressing room. She went past the round table with a bowl of chrysanthemums on it and tiptoed to the door. She was about to knock when she saw Tellman, standing and watching as Pitt unpacked his own cases and hung up his clothes. Of course, Tellman had probably never even seen a gentleman’s evening clothes like these before, let alone learned how to care for them. Still, it was shocking that in a house like this Pitt should be doing it himself. What would people think?
“I’ll help wi’ that, sir,” she said briskly, pushing the door open. “You should be downstairs meeting all them people wot you’re ’ere to look after.” She gave Tellman a meaningful glance, in case he imagined that was a leave for him to go as well.
Pitt turned around, hesitated a moment, glanced at Tellman, then back at Gracie.
“Thank you,” he accepted with a wry smile, and with a nod at Tellman, he left.
Gracie turned to Charlotte’s three large trunks and opened the first. On the top was a magnificent evening gown in oyster-colored satin, stitched with pearl beads and draped with silk chiffon. A glance at the side seam of the bodice told her it had been very rapidly and very skillfully let out at the back. No doubt it belonged to Lady Vespasia Cumming-Gould. Gracie knew every one of Charlotte’s few dresses, and this certainly was not among them. She lifted it up very carefully, a warm rush of gratitude filling her that Lady Vespasia should be so generous to save Charlotte’s self-esteem in this company—most especially before her sister, who had married so well. As far as money was concerned, that is. No one could match the master for being a person that really mattered in the world.
She found a hanger and arranged the gown so it lay properly and turned to put it in the wardrobe.
Tellman was staring at her, mesmerized.
“What’s the matter wi’ you?” she said briskly. “In’t yer never seen a lady’s gown afore? Get on ’anging up them suits an’ then you can go an’ find out where the irons are, and the upstairs stove for makin’ tea, an’ the bathroom an’ like. I don’ suppose yer know ’ow ter draw a bath?” She sniffed. “Don’t suppose yer got a bath? An’ ’ot water for the mornin’s? An’ polish for the master’s boots? They’ll ’ave ter be done every night.” She looked at the disgust in his face. “Not that yer’ve got much ter do, not like as I ’ave! Gentlemen only changes once or twice a day. Ladies change up ter five times. But yer’ll ’ave ter make sure shirts is clean … always! I’ll give yer ’ell ter pay if yer let the master down by sending ’im out wi’ a shirt wot in’t perfick.”
“He’s not my master,” Tellman said between his teeth. “And I’m not a bleedin’ nursemaid!”
“You’re not any bleedin’ use!” she snapped back at him. “And we’ll ’ave no language in ’ere, Mr. Tellman. It in’t done. D’you ’ear me?”
He stood still, glaring at her.
“If yer too proud ter do yer job proper, then yer a fool,” she said tartly, turning back to the trunk and taking out the next gown, one in autumn gold taffeta. This was plainer, one of Charlotte’s own, but very becoming to her auburn coloring. “Pass me one o’ them ’angers,” she instructed.
He passed it grudgingly.
“Look, Mr. Tellman,” she said, putting the dress on the hanger carefully, then handing it to him to hang in the wardrobe and moving to the next garment, a day dress in deep blue gabardine. Below that was a morning dress, and another, and another. There were three more dinner dresses and several morning and day dresses in the other trunk, plus blouses, camisoles and other underwear, and of course plenty of petticoats. But she would not take them out until Tellman had gone. It was none of his affair what a lady wore beneath her gowns. “Look,” she started again, “you an’ me is ’ere ter ’elp the master do ’is job an’ protect whoever it is wot’s in danger. To do that right, we got ter look like we come ter this kind of ’ouse reg’lar an’ knows wot we’re doin’.”
She handed him the next gown and fixed him with a strict stare.
“You may think it’s terrible beneath yer ter be a servant, an’ by the curl o’ yer lips yer do ….”
“I don’t believe in one man being servant to another,” he said stiffly. “I don’t wish to insult you, because it isn’t your fault you were born poor, any more than it’s mine I was. But you don’t have to accept it as if you deserved it, or treat other people as if they were better just ’cos they have money. All this bowing and doffing turns my stomach. I’m surprised to see you do it like it comes natural.”
“Think too much o’ yerself, you do,” she said philosophically. “Got more prickles than one o’ them little beasts wot five in ’edges. Seems ter me yer got two choices. You can be a good servant and make a fair job of it, or yer can be a bad one an’ make a mess of it. I think enough o’ meself ter make the best of it I can.” She grunted, then went back to the second trunk and began to take the dresses out of it and lay them carefully on the bed before looking for more hangers.
Teliman thought about it for a few more moments, then apparently appreciated that, at least for now, he had little choice in the matter. Dutifully, he hung up the rest of Pitt’s clothes, then set out his brush, shirt studs, collar studs and cuff links, then his shaving soap, brush, razor and strop.
“I’m going to look around the house,” he told her stiffly when he had finished. “I’d better do my proper job as well. That’s what Mr. Cornwallis sent me here for.” He looked very slightly down at her, which, since he was the best part of a foot taller, was not difficult. He was also fourteen years older, and was not going to let some twenty-year-old slip of a girl take liberties just because she knew how to unpack a trunk.
“Good idea,” she said crisply. “Now yer done that”—she nodded towards Pitt’s empty case—“you in’t no use ’ere. These things in’t your place ter see. But you can come back an’ put these cases in the boxroom later on. An’ yer better not go around givin’ yerself no airs,” she added as he reached the door. “Yer don’ want them thinking as yer more’n a valet, although a valet is very superior as servants go. An’ don’t forget that neither, an’ go mixin’ familiar wi’ the like o’ footmen an’ bootboys.”
“And how do you know all that?” he asked, his eyebrows raised high. “Seeing as you only just arrived, same as I did.”
“I bin in service for years,” she said expansively. It was none of his business that all of it had been with Charlotte, and she had her ideas of a house like this from bits and pieces she had overheard and the very occasional visit, and to be honest, more than a little guesswork. She gave him a level stare. “ ’Ow long are yer goin’ ter stand there then, like one o’ them things gentlemen puts their umbrellas on?”
“Service,” he said grimly, then turned and marched out.
“In’t nothin’ wrong in service,” she said to his retreating back. “I’m warm and comfortable every night an’ I eat every day, an’ that’s mor’n a lot can say! An’ I keep company wi’ decent folks, not like wot you do!”
He did not reply.
Gracie finished the rest of Charlotte’s unpacking, enjoying the touch and the luxurious colors of the borrowed gowns, hanging them carefully, smoothing the skirts to stay without creasing, touching her fingers to the beading and the lace and the silk chiffon so fine one could read a book through it.