Sir Arthur resented our intimacy. He wanted his wife to cleave to him, as she did to me, but quite how he expected this result only he can answer. It is a rich man’s way, I suppose: to anticipate reward for a fractional amount of effort.
The day after his mother had seen me with the travelling dress, he summoned me to his library.
I entered with some trepidation, for the room was unfamiliar to me, painted in a dull olive green with an Axminster carpet at the centre. It had all the accoutrements of a gentleman’s library: the bookshelves crowned with busts, a spinning globe, decanters of whisky-coloured liquid. But it all looked rather too new, too much like a stage set at the theatre. Sir Arthur did not appear at home behind his desk. For the first time, I saw him as the aristocracy did: a tradesman playing at gentility.
‘Ah, Stevens. Do sit down.’
The chair was made of leather. It squeaked as I put my weight upon it. I felt a flush of mortification.
‘How is your mistress, Stevens?’
‘Much recovered, sir. She has taken several airings in the carriage with me this week and is returning to herself. But it would be wise not to push her too far. She remains somewhat delicate, at times.’
He passed his tongue over his lips. His face seemed a little leaner than usual. ‘Yes. My mother does not recall being indisposed for so long on similar occasions, but as you say, my wife is . . . fragile. I am most anxious that nothing should occur to distress her.’
‘I trust it shall not, sir. You may rely upon me. I have some experience in nursing nervous, as well as physical, disorders.’
He raised his eyes to mine. A challenge bristled there. ‘I have been reacquainting myself with your nursing experience,’ he said, moving a paper on his desk. My character letters lay before him. ‘I did not see your references, originally.’
‘I gave them to Mrs Glover when first we met.’
‘Yes.’ He waved a hand. ‘I let my wife employ her own maid as she pleased. But I would not be a responsible husband if I did not make my own enquiries now, would I?’
‘No, sir.’
‘I understand that your first mistress, a . . .’ He fumbled amongst the papers, ‘. . . Mrs Wild. She passed from this life, did she not?’
I bowed my head. ‘Yes, sir. God rest her soul. She was an elderly lady. I had been in her service for two years . . . The event was somewhat expected.’
‘Her sons certainly praise your care of her throughout her indisposition.’
They were nice young men. It was always a pleasure when they paid a visit, which they were scrupulous enough to do each time their mother took a bad turn. I had hoped, at the time of her death, that they might move me into one of their own households. I was not so fortunate.
I returned to the Registry Office, and that had led me to Mrs Farley.
‘Your next employer,’ Sir Arthur went on, ‘is particularly eloquent about your attention to her children. Little Robert, it seems, was a favourite of yours?’
‘They were all dear children, sir. But Robert was the best of them. Perhaps that is why . . .’ My voice caught, remembering that cherubic face. ‘I often told Mrs Farley he was too good for this earth.’
He scrubbed a hand across his chin, watching me. ‘Yes . . . because he died too, did he not? And you were a prodigious comfort to Mrs Farley in the years that followed.’
Tears pricked at my eyes. ‘I hope I was, sir.’
‘And you left the position because . . .?’
‘My mistress was widowed and remarried. The children were sent to school and the household retrenched.’
His expression did not change. I wondered how Lady Rose could be married to a man of so few emotions. ‘So that leaves us with Miss Gillings.’
A rare creature: a spinster who inherited funds. At forty, she still held out hope of catching a husband.
‘Miss Gillings was an excessively kind mistress, sir. She treated me more as a companion than a maid. It was my honour to accompany her as chaperone to a selection of parties. I was very sorry to leave her service.’
‘She left you, it seems,’ he returned. ‘For Naples. A better climate. Quite a perilous journey, in these times. Was she so very desperate?’
‘The matter of her health became pressing, sir.’
‘Yet she did not take you with her? Despite all your skills?’
This was a sore point. I tried not to show how it ruffled me. ‘I should have gone, had my mistress requested it, but I do not believe she could justify the expenditure. Besides, sir, my father may have objected. I am his only unmarried daughter. Neither he nor my mother would wish me to be so far away.’
His eyebrows lowered. ‘That is touching. I was not aware you were close to your family. I do not see you leave the house to visit them, even on your half-days.’
He had caught me out: my parents would gladly see me as far away as the Antipodes, if it caused no embarrassment to them. Only Meg seemed to care, and with her it was the habitual, weary concern of an elder sister rather than true love.
‘No, sir. I keep myself available, in case I am required. My duties must come first.’
‘Indeed. Well, happily it appears that your last mistress Miss Gillings survived on the Continent without your company. To judge from the hand she writes, I might fancy her returned to full health.’
‘That would be a great pleasure. I hope it is the case.’ It smarted to have all my failures read out before me. Any other master would be delighted with these unimpeachable references, but Sir Arthur was not. From the tone of his voice, I could tell he nursed the same suspicion I did: that I was hexed, an omen of bad luck. I shifted in my chair, eliciting another farcical squeak. ‘May I ask, sir, to what all these questions tend? Have I dissatisfied you in some way?’
Sir Arthur steepled his fingers. ‘No . . . I do not believe there is any cause for complaint.’ How carefully he worded it. ‘You seem quite as dear to Lady Rose as you have been to all your previous mistresses.’
It did not sound like a compliment, coming from his lips.
‘I am very fortunate in my position.’
‘All the same . . .’ He gathered my character letters into a pile and bound them with string. ‘Vast as your experience is . . . I believe I shall consult a midwife, should my lady find herself with child again.’
‘Very good, sir.’ Offended pride clipped my voice.
‘That will be all, Stevens.’
He did not look up, did not see the way I clenched my jaw. It took a Herculean effort not to slam the door behind me.