Read The Magnificent Masquerade Online
Authors: Elizabeth Mansfield
The Magnificent Masquerade (8 page)
The footman who escorted Kitty to "Miss
Jessup's room" did not seem to her to be of particularly high quality
either. He leered at her in outspoken admiration of her face and form and made
lewd insinuations regarding future encounters. His name was Gerald, but he
insisted she call him Jimmy, "since we're bound't' be good friends."
Then he licked his lips suggestively and added, "Really good
friends!"
By this time they were at the door. Kitty, weary
from the trip and full of misgivings about what she'd done, merely turned in
the doorway, glared at the footman, and shut the door in his face.
Emily was not in the room. A housemaid, who was
just completing the chore of dusting and airing the room, told her that Miss
Jessup was visiting the sickly Miss Alicia. "Jemmy tol'
Lily, an' Lily tol' me that Miss Jessup was
fixin' Miss Alicia a tisane."
"Fixing a tisane?" Kitty echoed in
horror. "Good God! Whatever for?"
The housemaid shrugged. "Sounds a queer
start't' me," she confided, gathering up her dustmop and broom. "We'd
'eard, downstairs, that Miss Jessup was a real high flyer. But some one who
likes't' spend 'er time makin' tisanes don't sound like a high flyer't'
me."
"Nor to me," Kitty muttered under her
breath. She'd have to give Emily a good talking-to.
But Emily did not return to her room in time to
receive Kitty's scold. Kitty emptied the large portmanteau, the boxes, and all
the packages her parents had sent and stowed away all the contents, but still
Emily did not appear. The hour the butler had given her was almost gone. There
was nothing Kitty could do but lay out a gown for Emily to wear to dinner and
go down and face Mr. Naismith. She only hoped he would finish with her in time
to permit her to return and assist Emily to dress for dinner. She had a strong
feeling that Emily would be in dire need of her assistance and advice. She was
halfway down the main staircase when she realized she should have taken the
back way down. Fortunately, no one was about. She scrambled back upstairs and
searched for the servants' staircase, nervously opening the doors of two
unoccupied bedrooms before finally coming upon the passageway that contained
the stairs. With a sigh of relief, she ran quickly down.
The stairs led directly to the servants' hall.
It was a huge, dark room with a high vaulted ceiling on which the smoke of
hundreds of years of cooking had accumulated. The room was gloomily lit by
several windows placed high on the walls, but Kitty had to admit that, except
for the ceiling which was unreachable, the entire place was scrupulously clean.
It was evidently used both as a kitchen and a dining room for the servants, for
in the wall directly opposite the door in which she stood was an enormous
fireplace that Kitty could see was used for cooking; it contained a number of
frying pans, griddles, pots, and kettles which hung from chains over the fire.
But there was also a large Rumford stove (similar to the one her mother had
bought for the Birkinshaw kitchen) on which something was boiling. Whatever it
was emitted a deliciously aromatic smell of sage and onions, reminding Kitty
that she hadn't eaten since morning and was now painfully hungry. But if she
was to spend time being scolded by the butler, and if then she had to help
Emily dress for dinner, and if the staff then would be busy serving that
dinner, it might be very late before anyone would think of offering her
something to eat. She wondered for the first time in her life when the servants
had time to take their meals.
The only persons she could see from her vantage
point in the doorway were the cook-a tall, muscular, red-faced female who was
so busily kneading dough at a worktable near the stove that she took no notice
of Kitty at all-and three scullery maids who were assisting her. One was
hovering over the cook's shoulder, adding flour to the dough whenever the cook
nodded her head. The second was sitting on a stool on the opposite side of the
worktable, scraping carrots. The third was setting mugs at each place of an
ancient and very long dining table in the center of the room. This was
evidently where the servants took their meals. The sight of the servants' table
being set gave Kitty a glimmer of hope-perhaps she'd be permitted to eat soon.
She was about to ask the scullery maid when the
servants' dinner was served when a rebuking cough, coming from somewhere above
her, reminded her of why she was there. "Well, girl, how long do you
intend to linger down there?" came the butler's voice. She stepped into
the room and turned in the direction of the voice. She discovered Naismith
standing above her on a balcony which bridged the comer at her right and which
therefore couldn't be seen from the doorway. As soon as their eyes met, the
butler lifted his hand and beckoned her-with the imperious gesture of a monarch
summoning a slave-to mount the curved stone steps in the comer which led up to
his perch.
"Here I am, Mr. Naismith," Kitty said
cheerfully when she came up to him.
"So you are." He studied her with
displeasure for a moment, while she, in turn, looked about her. The balcony was
larger than it seemed from below and led, through a doorway behind them, to
what Kitty realized must be the butler's office and his living quarters. But
the balcony itself was furnished with a pair of comfortable armchairs and a
table on which were set some crystal goblets and several decanters of liquor.
But until Naismith said, "Well, Mrs. Prowne, what do you think of
her?" Kitty hadn't realized that someone else was there.
Kitty turned round to find that a tiny woman
with black eyebrows and the whitest of white hair was seated in one of the
armchairs, her fingers nimbly stitching a strip of lace onto a white muslin
cap. "Wild little thing she looks't' be," the woman said, barely
glancing up from her work. "Just as you said."
"It's only my hair," Kitty protested
in self-defense. "I haven't had time to braid it."
"Mrs. Prowne was not speaking to you,
girl," the butler said with a glare. "Were you not taught never to
speak until spoken to? You see, Mrs. Prowne? Not only has the girl no manners,
but she has something to say about everything." Mrs. Prowne nodded.
"Very free with 'er mouth, just as you told me, Mr. Naismith. I see just
what you mean." Taking a momentary pause in her needlework, she peered up
at Kitty and wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Goodness me, child, take off
that 'orrid cap. And is that shabby frock your service dress?"
"She told me it's her traveling
dress," Naismith said, his voice tinged with revulsion.
"Then she should've changed into 'er
service garb before presentin' herself to us," the woman said, equally
revolted. Kitty, removing her offending headdress, remembered that Emily had
brought no clothes with her and that nothing in any of the boxes she'd just unpacked
was at all suitable for a servant to wear. She looked from one to the other in
alarm. "But I ... I have no other dress," she admitted. "No
other dress? Didn't Lady Birkinshaw give you a maid's black't' wear at
Birkinshaw House?"
"No, ma'am."
"What sort o' housekeeper does Lady
Birkinshaw employ?" Mrs. Prowne asked in rhetorical disapproval. "I'm
housekeeper here, and though we're miles from
dream of lettin' the lowest o' the sculleries run about without a proper black
on 'er back."
Naismith shook his head. "I told you, Mrs.
Prowne, that Lord Birkinshaw must be a ramshackle sort-"
"He is not!" Kitty declared. "I
don't have a `black' because I don't come from Birkinshaw House. I come from
the
wrote that he wanted an abigail to accompany his daughter, Miss Marchmont let
me come."
Naismith's eyebrows rose. "A maid-of-all-work?
You mean you're not Miss Jessup's true abigail?"
"Miss Jessup doesn't have a true abigail.
She's been away at school since she was thirteen."
The butler gave the housekeeper a knowing
glance. "Maid of-all-work, eh? That explains it, then. This creature is
...well, almost an impostor."
"Or at best a waif without a bit o' proper
trainin'," Mrs. Prowne said, sewing away placidly. "No wonder she's a
wild one."
"And makes so free with her tongue."
Naismith rubbed his -chin thoughtfully. "I suppose I'd best recommend to
his lord ship that we engage someone else to wait on Miss Jessup."
"Engage someone else?" Kitty felt the
blood drain from her face. "Do you mean you'll ... sack me?" Naismith
didn't deign to respond, but the housekeeper shrugged. "Well, after all,
child, you 'aven't been schooled proper-'
"I've been in school since I was
nine!" Kitty cried. "This is
magisterially. "Edgerton isn't to be compared with your piddling school!
We can't have someone on our staff who's never served in a noble house."
"But you can't sack me!" Kitty
declared in desperation. "You don't know what that would-" She
stopped her tongue abruptly. She knew she had to be very careful in what she
said. If her plan was not to collapse here and now, she had to f i nd the right
words to convince these two to keep her on, not only as a member of their staff
but in the position of abigail to "Miss Jessup." The situation was
indeed desperate, but desperation made her mind race double time. Her powers of
invention, stimulated as always by danger, began to go to work. "You have
no right to sack me," she pointed out with blithe confidence. "It was
Miss Jessup who engaged me, and she wouldn't permit it."
"Oh, pish-tush," the housekeeper
said. "Miss Jessup'd probably enjoy havin' a more experienced
maidserv-"
"She wouldn't! I'd wager a guinea she'd
have a tantrum! After all, she chose me herself. Do you think she'd be pleased
to have you override her choice?"
The housekeeper cocked her head thoughtfully,
looking like a black-eyed, white-crested bird. "The chit may 'ave a point
in that, Mr. Naismith. She just might 'ave a point there."
The butler's brow knit. "Yes, she might at
that. If Miss Jessup engaged the girl herself, I can see that she might very
well object."
Kitty leaped at her advantage. "Of course
she'd object. Very fond of me, she is. Very fond. I do her hair for her every
day at school, you know."
"Do you indeed?" Naismith muttered
dryly. "I hope you do it better than you do your own. Well, this is a
situation, is it not, Mrs. Prowne?"
"Aye, indeed, Mr. Naismith. It seems we do
'ave a situation 'ere."
Kitty looked from one to the other in
confusion. "What situation?"
"It isn't as if a lady's personal abigail
is like an ordinary housemaid, you know," the butler muttered, half to
himself. "No, indeed not, Mr. Naismith," the housekeeper agreed.
"No indeed. An abigail's quite a bit superior, especially to a
maid-of-all-work."
"I don't see how we're to manage it."
He rubbed his chin speculatively. "This creature would have to sit above
the housemaids at the table. She'd have to be the equal of our
Miss Leacock."
"Miss Leacock?" Kitty asked, puzzled.
"She's dresser to 'er ladyship. And to
Miss Alicia, when she's feelin' up to gettin' dressed. Comes from
Miss Leacock does. She used't' dress the Countess Trevelyan be fore that poor
lady passed on. Very genteel, Miss Leacock. You never could pass as an equal to
'er."
"I could try," Kitty murmured,
feeling more chastened than ever before in her life. She didn't dream, when
she'd plunged into this adventure, that she'd find herself deficient in-of all
things!-the proper qualifications for the post of abigail. The butler circled
round the stricken girl, observing her from all angles. "She wouldn't be
bad-looking if she tied back that hair."
"And a proper black bombazine would do
wonders. Here, girl, try on this cap." The housekeeper made a few last
stitches, snapped the thread neatly with her teeth, and handed the lace-trimmed
mobcap to Kitty.
"Thank you," Kitty said humbly,
hastily tucking as much of her hair into the cap as she could. "There!
Will I do?"
Both the butler and the housekeeper circled her
this time.
"With the bombazine, she'll look a bit
more suitable," Nai smith said somewhat dubiously.
"And with 'er hair in a proper
braid," Mrs. Prowne agreed. "After all, she'll be with us only for a
fortnight," he added, consoling himself.
"And if any of the maids object to 'er
place at table, we can always say she's guest-staff-not really one of us
a-tall."
The butler nodded. "Very well. Take her
away and get her dressed. And do it as quickly as you can, Mrs. Prowne, for she
should be seeing to Miss Jessup's toilette by this time."
"Aye, Mr. Naismith, it won't take long. Come
along, girl, follow me."
As the housekeeper (so tiny in stature that she
made Kitty feel tall) hurried down the stone steps with Kitty close behind, the
butler turned to his table and poured himself a brandy. He took a large swig,
rolled the liquor round his mouth, swallowed, and sighed deeply. Then he leaned
over the railing. "You, girl," he barked down at Kitty who was just
disappearing from his view, "remember that you're employed here through my
graciousness. So try not to do anything-or say anything-to make me sorry!"
Kitty merely nodded and continued on her way.
The butler looked up at the vaulted ceiling in disgust. "I'll be
sorry," he muttered to the gods above who were forever trying to do him
in. "I can wager his lordship's best brandy on it. That girl'll make me
sorry."