“Splendid!” said Dorcas Vashon.
Mr. Rodgers had just helped her from the carriage.
“Mr. Rodgers, you have done very well indeed. This is even more exquisite than I imagined.”
This time the basement windows registered right away with Victoria. Larger, higher than the ones in that house in Baltimore. Above the basement windows was a white stone projecting bay window. To its right and up five slate-gray steps, double doors with decorative molding.
Triple windows on the second floor. Tall windows with ornamental hooding, two of them over the balcony that was the top of the bay window.
Triple windows on the third floor too. Dormer windows framed by scalloped slate.
Victoria knew that the third floor was no small attic space. The house’s mansard roof told her that the third floor was a spacious place. Though only three stories the house was soaring.
Victoria and Dorcas Vashon were midway up the walkway when the front door opened.
“Welcome, Miss Dorcas, Miss Victoria,” said a middle-aged woman with friendly eyes. She wore a crisp black dress beneath a snow-white pinafore. Her cap was snow white too.
“Victoria, this is Millicent Rodgers.”
Victoria soon learned that Mr. and Mrs. Rodgers were live-in servants, occupying the top floor. The Mrs. served as cook, housekeeper, laundress. The Mr. as coachman, butler, and his wife’s all-around helping hand in this house of marble fireplaces, parquet floors, and light streaming into every room. The furniture was even finer than in that house in Baltimore. In addition to a parlor there was also a sitting room on the first floor.
And this time Victoria’s bedroom was second floor front. As she looked around the room …
White wood furniture, from bedstead to nightstand to dressing table and desk …
Teal-blue wallpaper with pink and white roses …
Shining oak floors …
Off-white rug beneath her bed …
Off-white lace curtains …
Victoria felt even more like a Cinderella than she had in that fancy black mourning dress.
Thou God seest me.
“You did and I thank you,” Victoria whispered later that night, sitting at her dressing table, brushing her hair, envisioning magnificent tomorrows.