Prudence could tell that everyone wanted more, but she concentrated on her stew. Eventually, the talk went on to other things and Prudence finished her meal and washed her dishes so Susie wouldn’t have to. Susie, still busy with the dinner dishes, gave her a grateful smile.
“Don’t go yet. Why don’t you sit with us a while? It will be hours before your girls need you. You might as well make yourself comfortable.”
Prudence hesitated for a moment, then relented. The only way to combat her own loneliness was by getting to know other people, right? She settled herself next to Hortense and Susie brought her another cup of tea.
As soon as she sat, two of the maids exchanged glances and excused themselves. Prudence watched them go with a frown, but soon Hortense captured her attention again.
“Let me tell you about my first assignment and see if you don’t feel better,
oui
?” Hortense took one of Prudence’s hands as she spoke, a friendly gesture no doubt, but as the older woman told her story, Prudence began to feel more and more like Hortense’s hand were a manacle holding her down. She listened as Hortense told her about her former employer back in France, who thought so little of the help that she never even bothered to learn Hortense’s name.
As miserable as Prudence was, she realized she could have it worse. When Prudence rose to leave, Hortense stood as well.
“You’re not going to bed already, are you?” Hortense asked sharply.
Prudence shook her head. “No. I have to go straighten up Rowena’s room first.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” Hortense waved her hand. “I just thought it was rather early, that’s all. But if you have work to do . . .”
Prudence was lost in thought as she tidied Rowena’s room. Why did it please her so much that the other servants believed she was better than them? In spite of everything Sir Philip had taught them about the equity of all men and women, she still didn’t want to be thought of as a mere servant. But in reality, they were more her sort of people than Rowena and Victoria were. Or Lord Billingsly. Her mother had begun as a maid. She had no idea what her father had done for work, as her mother never spoke of him, but she knew she had family who lived in the village. No doubt many of them had worked for the Buxtons or one of the other titled families in the area.
Was there really a fundamental difference between those of the lower class and those of the upper class, aside from the circumstances of one’s birth, something over which a person has no control? Why did those of the lower classes put up with being made to feel as if they were second-class humans? Prudence could see the need for lower-tier jobs—no one was going to like cleaning the privies, after all. She rubbed her head. No wonder things changed slowly. There were no easy solutions.
When Rowena didn’t appear for her bath, Prudence walked down the hall to Victoria’s room. What room would she have if she were a real guest? She hadn’t been able to see much of the house beyond the servants’ quarters, the girls’ rooms, and the Great Hall. She had hardly even been outside since she arrived. Instead, she spent her afternoons off reading one of the books Vic had smuggled her from the library.
More tired than she had ever been, she climbed the never-ending stairs to her room. Rowena and Victoria could jolly well put themselves to bed tonight. She wasn’t really a maid, no matter what it currently looked like. The encounter with Lord Billingsly and her experience with the staff in the servants’ hall had left her feeling fragile, as if one more incident could break her into a million pieces.
The gas lamps in the long stretch of petticoat hall were spaced far apart and on the lowest setting. “No reason for servants to be able to see,” she muttered. She left the door open, so she would have enough light to get her own small gas lamp burning. After locking the door, she peeled off her clothes, not even bothering to hang them up. Her teeth began to chatter as she pulled on a fine lawn nightgown. Even though her skin gloried in the softness of the material, she almost wished for wool bloomers to fend off the chill. Her room was more like an icebox than a bedroom.
Hurrying now, she raced across the room and leapt into bed, but as she shoved her feet down, they were stopped by something about halfway down. Uncomprehending, she pushed her feet down harder and then realized what had happened. Someone had given her an apple pie bed, snuck into her bedroom to pull a prank on her. Sobs erupted from her mouth before she could stop them and she clapped her hands over her face. She wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of knowing they had gotten to her. For a few minutes she sat on her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, trying to get control of herself. She had no friends here, she thought. Except for Susie, she was completely alone, and she was better off remembering that.
When your bed is short-sheeted, you have no choice but to get up and remake it all over again. Wearily, she climbed out of her bed. Her feet ached from cold and her muscles throbbed with exhaustion, but she managed to get it done.
Finally under the coverlet, with her tears drying on her cheeks, Prudence made a decision. Her next day off was tomorrow. She would take advantage by going into town and trying to find some of her family. Anything was better than being trapped here in isolation, suspended between the upstairs and downstairs worlds of Summerset, and truly belonging to neither.
* * *
The next morning, Prudence took out her new rust-colored serge walking suit and brushed it out, being especially careful of the black braid trim and cloth buttons. Slipping on the skirt, which came to just above her ankles, she tucked in a creamy white blouse and pulled on the matching jacket. She loved how the ruffles on the sleeves of her blouse peeked out from under the cuffs of the coat. Then she did her hair the best she could in the cracked mirror and topped it with an oversized black velvet beret. Her feet were clad with a pair of two-toned black and brown leather walking boots that laced up the front. In no manner could she be mistaken for a maid today.
She swept into the servants’ quarters and poured herself a cup of tea, ignoring the stares she was getting.
Hortense’s eyes widened. “
Belle fille
” was all she said.
Prudence knew that her actions wouldn’t make her any friends among the servants, but she didn’t care. She now saw that they judged her every bit as much as Lord Summerset did.
She saw Susie peer around the corner, her eyes wide. Prudence’s stomach was bouncing so much, she decided against porridge and opted for just tea.
“Today is your half day,
oui
? Do you have any plans?” Hortense wanted to know.
“I thought I would go into town,” Prudence answered.
“Why on earth would you want to do that?” Hortense sniffed. “It’s not even a town. More like a village.”
“How long has it been since you’ve been there?” one of the footmen asked. “It’s grown a lot in the last couple of years. Industry is coming in a big way.” He smiled at Prudence, showing a wide grin and strong white teeth. “My name is Andrew, by the way. Andrew Wilkes.”
She smiled back, recognizing him as the kind-faced young man from her first day at Summerset. She’d seen him about since of course, but as they rarely ate at the same time, she hadn’t met him formally yet. She guessed this was as formal as the servants got. “Prudence Tate,” she said, and then felt stupid. Everyone already knew who she was.
One of the maids snorted and snatched her cup and bowl from the table. “I don’t have time for this. Some of us have work to do.”
Andrew kept smiling. “Don’t mind her. She’s just jealous. It’s evident to everyone here that you’re a real lady.”
“That will be all, Andrew. I’m sure you have work to attend to, as well,” Mr. Cairns said from the doorway.
“But—” Andrew started to say.
“Now,” Mr. Cairns interrupted.
Andrew gave her a cheeky wink and, gathering up his breakfast dishes, also left the table.
Mr. Cairns gave her a withering look and Prudence turned away, her cheeks heating.
“You had better be off before Mrs. Harper gets a look at you, my young friend. Or there will be all kinds of hell to pay,” Hortense said.
“But the clothes are my own and it’s my day off. Surely she can’t object to my wearing my own clothes on my day off, can she?”
“Oh, she’ll find a way. Now off. Enjoy your day, even though I don’t know how you’re going to find any amusement in a muddy hamlet like Summerset.”
Prudence took her cup back to the utility room to wash it.
“I’ll get it,” Susie said gruffly, not looking at Prudence. “You’ll spot your dress if you do it.”
“Thank you, Susie. I’ll get you a surprise while I’m in town.”
Prudence thought she saw a half smile on Susie’s face, but she couldn’t be sure. Contrariness had made her avoid Victoria and Rowena this morning, even to ask whether they would like anything from town or needed anything before she left. Both of them had disappeared several times since they had come to Summerset and didn’t tell her where they went.
It was hard to keep up with your friends if spending time together was frowned upon. Even though there were occasions when they would spend time reading together in their bedrooms in front of the fire, Ro and Vic couldn’t be expected to spend all their time in their rooms. They weren’t the prisoners.
She was.
Shaking off her thoughts, Prudence made sure to leave by the servants’ door and avoided the front of the house. The last thing she needed was to be rebuked for being uppish, and after her behavior this morning, she knew she would be a target. Shame heated her cheeks. What had ever possessed her to go to breakfast dressed up in an outfit that would cost any one of them more than a year’s wages?
But still, now that she was finally outside the house, she felt as if she could breathe. The clouds hung low and gray in the sky but didn’t seem threatening. Her sturdy walking boots were comfortable. The trees along the drive had been emptied of all their autumn leaves and now stood like stark and naked sentries above her.
When she reached the end of the drive, she paused, feeling foolish. Why hadn’t she thought to get directions to town? She heard the rattle of a motorcar behind her and stepped to the side as it slowed.
Lord Billingsly tipped his hat to her. “Good morning, Miss Tate.”
“Good morning, Lord Billingsly.” She felt her cheeks flush, then glanced back at the house.
“No one can see us from here if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She swallowed. “Of course not.”
There was a long pause. “Are you going to town? May I give you a lift?”
She squirmed inside as she remembered how she’d scurried away into the servants’ door the last time she’d seen him. At the same time she was annoyed by her reaction to him. She was finally getting out of the house and here he was, his very handsome presence making her feel self-conscious. “Yes, I am going to town, but I am perfectly capable of walking there. In fact, I’ll enjoy the exercise. Good day, sir.”
She turned left and resolutely walked down the road.
“Miss Tate?”
She stopped and closed her eyes for a moment. Somehow she had known that wouldn’t be the end of it. “Yes, Lord Billingsly?” she asked without turning.
“Are you planning on walking all the way to London? Because Summerset is the other direction.”
Of course it was. The absurdity of the situation hit her and laughter bubbled out of her before she could stop it. It was the first time she’d laughed so freely since Sir Philip died. The thought pained her, but it didn’t stop the laughter. When his laugh, warm and rich, joined hers, she finally turned. Oh, what would be the harm in joining him? Her sensible side knew the answer to that. In her position, there could be quite a bit of harm, but recklessly she ignored the risk. “Lord Billingsly, I would very much like a ride to town.”
He leapt out of the touring motorcar and opened her door for her. Once he had climbed back inside, he rooted around in the backseat and then handed her a dust blanket.
“No reason to get your fine dress muddy or dusty.”
She tucked the blanket around her dress and they took off, heading the right direction into town.
“So Miss Tate. You’re rather the mystery girl, aren’t you?” His tone was light and Prudence snuck a glance at him.
His bowler hat tilted slightly to one side and his dark hair curled over the collar of his suit in the back. In profile, she could see that his mouth curled slightly at the corners, as if he could find the humorous side of anything. “Trust me, Lord Billingsly, there is nothing mysterious about me whatsoever.”
“I beg to differ. The first time I met you, I couldn’t get two words from you, though that was understandable considering the circumstances. I met you again last night and you were wearing a uniform and were a bit, how shall I say it, aggressive? Now this morning, you’re a different girl altogether. See? Mystery.”
His eyes squinted in a smile and Prudence relaxed. Something kind in his expression put her at ease. “All of those things can be explained, Lord Billingsly.”
“I would be pleased if you could enlighten me, Miss Tate.”
A smile played about her lips. It was so nice to be riding along in a motorcar with a handsome young man teasing her. As if she were a normal young woman. Prudence knew that all hell would break loose if Mrs. Harper or, heaven forbid, Lady Summerset found out, but at the moment she didn’t care.
“I think I’ll keep the mystery alive a bit longer. I’ve never been considered mysterious before, and I must say I rather like it.”
“Fair enough. But do me the honor of answering me one question. I did give you a ride to town, after all.”
The town was just ahead of them. Prudence gave him a sidelong look. “I guess that depends on the question, Lord Billingsly.”
“Wherever did you get that hat?”
Her mouth dropped open for a moment and then she laughed. “I didn’t take you for the velvet beret type, but if you must know, I bought it from Caroline Reboux’s new shop on Bond Street.”
“My
little sister
thanks you,” he said pointedly. “Now, do you think this town has a teahouse where we could get a cup of tea? That is if you would care to join me in a cup of tea.” He pulled the motorcar over and regarded her steadily, his dark eyes asking a question she dare not answer.