The kettle still screamed, so Marianne pulled it from the flame, but the silence that followed was too loud, and Kat had no choice but to say, “Uh…which way is that?”
“I’ve observed many things in the past few years, miss.” Marcus looked her in the eye. “It is not my place to talk, but I do see. I see everything. And after what I’ve seen, I know that you may be the only person who can help. And so, miss, I would like to hire you. For a job.”
Kat could have sworn she’d misunderstood. “A job job?”
“Yes. There is something that I would like for you to steal.”
Marianne brought a handkerchief to her mouth but didn’t protest.
“Okay, Marcus.” Kat took a seat at the table. “I think you’d probably better start at the beginning.”
Never before had Kat thought about whether or not Marcus had a family. She hadn’t wondered where he went when he wasn’t at Hale’s beck and call. But there she was in his kitchen, sitting across from his sister, listening as he said, “Our parents were in service to the late Mr. Hale the Second. Marianne and I were born into this proud tradition, and when our time came, we were honored to follow in our parents’ footsteps.”
“The family business,” Kat added, half under her breath.
Marcus nodded. “Exactly. Our family has worked for the Hales for four generations.”
He sat up a little straighter when he said it, and Kat knew that, in his world, that was a thing of great esteem.
“When she was very young, Marianne was asked to care for the new wife of Mr. Hale the Third—a young American woman who had come from…shall we say…humble beginnings. But who was also very, very kind.”
“Hazel,” Kat filled in.
Marcus nodded.
“When the new Mrs. Hale came to us…well…I imagine our world must have seemed incredibly strange to her. The ladies still dressed for dinner in those days. Her new husband played polo with a cousin of the king. And there she was, half a world away from anything she’d ever known, with nothing but a husband who was constantly working.”
Marcus took a deep breath. “Well, that’s not exactly true. She had a husband”—he cut his eyes at his sister—“and a maid.”
Soon Marianne was reaching for her handkerchief again and dabbing at tears.
“My sister wasn’t much younger than Mrs. Hale. There they were, both living apart from their families for the first time. And so Marianne wasn’t just a ladies’ maid. She was also Mrs. Hale’s only friend.”
“She was so alone.” Marianne’s voice cracked. “So, so alone in that big house. She had everything. But she had no one.”
“My sister worked for Mrs. Hale for sixty years,” Marcus said.
“Sixty-four,” Marianne corrected. “I was in service to a fine woman for sixty-four years.” She righted herself, standing. “And I know what you think, brother, but I will not sit here and hear her good name slandered.”
“So then don’t sit. Don’t listen,” Marcus said. “But that won’t change what happened.”
“What did happen, Marcus?” Kat asked.
“Mrs. Hale always told my sister that she would provide for her—that she would never have to worry about caring for herself because Marianne would be included in her will.”
“Aren’t they reading the will right now?” Kat asked.
Marcus gave a solemn nod. “Exactly. Yesterday, we received word that there would be no reason for Marianne to attend the reading—that only those who were mentioned in the will were invited.”
“Don’t be silly, Marcus,” Marianne said, summoning her pride. “Who was I to think I’d be included? I’m a ladies’ maid. No more. No less.”
“Hazel was your best friend, Marianne, and if—”
“It was Mrs. Hale’s fortune,” the maid said, special emphasis on the words as if her brother had grown too comfortable and needed to be reminded of his place. “And Mrs. Hale could do with it what she wanted.”
“This is what she wanted?” Marcus snapped. “For her oldest friend to be left with nothing? I don’t believe it. I do not.”
“Marcus,” Kat said, her voice low. “Marcus, are you saying…”