The girls of Ackerbee’s lined the hallway as Tess walked toward the open front door. They hung through the banisters, calling their goodbyes; they spilled out of the door and onto the street, causing curious passersby to stop and stare. Tess tried to hold as many hands and catch as many blown kisses as she could, and she told herself that no matter what, she would not cry.
She almost managed it.
Just as she was setting foot outside the door, on the threshold of the world she’d always known and a world she couldn’t imagine, someone shouted her name. She turned just in time for Wilf to barrel into her.
“What will I do without you?” Wilf whispered into her ear.
“I’ll be back, goosie,” Tess told her. “I promise.”
“You can’t promise that,” Wilf said.
“I just did.”
“But you might forget me, what with your new life and all.” Wilf flicked away a tear.
“I could never forget you, Wilf,” Tess said. “You’re too annoying,” she added after a beat.
They released one another and Wilf laughed, rubbing her runny nose with the back of her hand. Then her laughter faded. “I’ll miss you. And Vi. You’ll write, won’t you?”
“Every day, and twice on Sundays,” Tess replied. “Promise.”
“You’d better,” Wilf whispered.
“If we’re quite ready,” came Mr. Cleat’s voice, like a jab in the ribs.
The girls let go of one another’s hands, and both of them wiped their cheeks. Tess took off her glasses to scrub at her eyes properly, and when she replaced them, Wilf had stepped back to join the others. Beside her was Eunice McMullen, a girl from the next dorm, who put a comforting hand on Wilf’s arm. Prissy and Prossy stood by the stairs, waving, and Tess tried to press them all into her memory, taking their images and putting them in a book inside her head.
Then Miss Ackerbee was on her knees in front of her, pulling her close. “This is your home,” she whispered into Tess’s ear. “Never forget how much we love you.” Her voice faltered and Tess nodded, her tears soaking into her housemistress’s hair. Miss Ackerbee kissed her on both cheeks and stood up, letting Rebecca take her place.
“And don’t let that beastly man upset you,” she muttered, squeezing Tess tightly. Finally Rebecca got to her feet and stood arm in arm with Miss Ackerbee, both of them grim-faced, and Mr. Cleat placed his hand between Tess’s shoulder blades, pushing her forward.
“Time to go,” he told her, and Tess found herself walking to the sleek black car. Mr. Cleat urged her inside, and she twisted in her seat as soon as she sat down, trying to see out of the back window.
The slam of the car door closing made her jerk around, surprised. Mr. Cleat settled into his seat, which faced hers across a short expanse of meticulously clean carpet. Behind a glass screen sat the driver, the same person who’d opened the car door for Tess, and with a sharp rap of his knuckles, Mr. Cleat gave the order to leave.
Tess turned again, watching Ackerbee’s in the rear window until it vanished from her sight.
When she eventually faced forward in her seat, Mr. Cleat was looking at her quizzically, as though wondering what on earth to do with her. She clutched her small suitcase to herself and tried to ignore him, looking out of the window beside her instead. They were heading straight for the center of the city, swooping left and right seemingly at random down narrow, winding streets, and very quickly Tess lost any sense of direction.
Mr. Cleat cracked open a newspaper and buried himself behind it. Tess noticed the large ring on the smallest finger of his left hand as he held the paper; it was engraved with something but Tess couldn’t quite make out what. It looked like two letters, intertwined—was that an H? She leaned forward, squinting at the ring, but Mr. Cleat tucked his finger behind the paper, hiding it from further inspection.
Thwarted, Tess studied the newspaper instead. She could read the date, May 1, 1941, and the leading story: KING GEORGE AND PRINCESSES CONTINUE THEIR ROYAL TOUR OF THE BRITERNIAN ISLES; SOJOURN IN HIBERNIA A SUCCESS. She rolled her eyes and looked away, continuing to watch the world pass by outside, trying unsuccessfully to get a handle on where they were going.
Finally they turned to drive through a tall wrought-iron gate. The car’s interior fell into shadow as they passed beneath some overhanging trees, and Mr. Cleat was forced to put his newspaper to one side with a sigh.
Up ahead, on the far side of the road, she caught a glimpse of large squat buildings, which seemed totally at odds with the landscape around them; something like a ship’s propeller made of sheets of metal riveted together stuck out from the front of one of them, but Tess couldn’t figure out what it was.
She turned to Mr. Cleat, the question on the tip of her tongue.
“My work involves developing large machinery,” he told her before she had the chance to ask. “But don’t trouble yourself about it. It’s terribly boring.”
“So we’re nearly there?”
“Not far now,” Mr. Cleat said.
Then the car turned again and Tess caught sight of an extraordinary house. She gaped up at it as the car approached. The house was made of gray stone and had four turret towers. The main roof, high and steeply angled and covered in greenish-tinged copper, rose almost as high as the towers; into it were set many small square windows. Ivy grew up one wall, its glossy leaves like a companion to the green roof. The front door was thrown open, a beautiful fanlight stretching above it, and a bellpull with a red tassel hung by its side. People in uniform lined the steps leading up to it and Tess began to feel distinctly awkward.
“Time to introduce you to the staff,” Mr. Cleat said as the car came to a stop.
The driver opened the door and helped Tess out as Mr. Cleat stood, settling his jacket. None of the people on the steps, Tess couldn’t help but notice, looked entirely welcoming. There was an older lady who Tess assumed was the cook; alongside her were four young ladies in uniform, probably maids. The youngest looked barely older than Tess herself. On the other side of the steps stood a weather-beaten man whose age was impossible to guess, and Tess had him pegged as the gardener. Beside him, facing the car with her hands clasped in front of her, was a tall woman in a black dress. She had a thin-lipped smile on her chalk-pale face, and her eyes looked like two black beetles fixed in place with pins.
The driver made his way to the steps, where he took his place beside the gardener. Then Mr. Cleat extended his hand to Tess, ushering her forward, and they began to walk toward the house.
“Pauline,” Mr. Cleat said as they drew near, and the beetle-eyed woman stood straighter, her face radiating helpfulness. “Will you take Tess under your wing? I’ve got something I need to attend to.” He turned to Tess. “I’ll see you for dinner,” he told her. “Pay attention to Mrs. Thistleton, won’t you? She knows the run of things.” And with a nod at everyone, he was gone.
“So you’ll be Tess,” said Mrs. Thistleton. “Welcome to Roedeer Lodge.”
“Th-thank—” Tess began.
“Now,” Mrs. Thistleton continued, “I’ll just tell you who’s who and then we can get on with the rules of the house.”
Rules? Tess was so preoccupied that she forgot everybody’s name the second Mrs. Thistleton introduced them—except for the youngest maid, who was called Millicent.
“Millie will do, miss,” the girl said shyly as she bobbed a curtsy to Tess.
“Please,” Tess said. “Call me Tess.”
“Come,” Mrs. Thistleton said, her tone crisp. “Millicent will show you to your room.”
“Is it just this, miss?” Millicent—Millie—asked, holding out a hand to take Tess’s suitcase. Tess handed it over without thinking, immediately feeling awkward but not knowing how to ask for it back, but Millie simply smiled and led her through the huge door and into the house.
“You’ll be up here, miss, on the second floor,” Millie said as Tess followed her across a black-and-white-tiled lobby and up a set of wide, thickly carpeted stairs. At the first turn in the staircase, Tess began to feel odd, and by the time they’d reached the second floor, she was distinctly queasy. “And your room is this one— Miss?” Mille turned, looking concerned, and she took Tess’s elbow in a firm, reassuring hold.
“I—I think I’m going to be sick,” Tess managed to say, and Millie helped her the last few steps to her room, leading her to a chair in the corner. Then quickly she placed Tess’s suitcase on the floor, pulled a chamber pot out from beneath the bed and held it to Tess’s face just in time for her to throw up into it.
“There you are now,” she said soothingly, rubbing Tess’s back. “All up, and you’ll feel much better.”
“I’m so sorry,” Tess began as she started to tremble. She felt wrong inside, like something had gone missing. An ice shard was lodged in her chest and her head was buzzing, like something inside it had been struck. Millie took away the large ceramic pot, covering it with a cloth and placing it on the table beside the bed. Just as she turned back around, Violet crawled slowly out from Tess’s hair to settle above her heart. The gentle movement made Tess take a deep comforting breath, but she looked up when she heard the young maid give a tiny squeak of surprise.
“Millie!” Tess said. “Don’t be frightened. This is Violet. She’s perfectly harmless.”
“I’ll—I’ll just leave you to get settled, miss,” Millie said, picking up the chamber pot. She bobbed a slow careful curtsy, keeping her eyes on the pot, and then hurried out of the room.
Tess slumped in her chair, looking around. The room was large and clean, with three tall windows. Gauzy curtains billowed in the breeze. The bed looked comfortable, the wash stand gleamed, the carpet was neat. It was the first room Tess had ever had entirely to herself.
But she knew she’d give it all up in a heartbeat to have her old dorm at Ackerbee’s back, Prissy and Prossy and all.