for an easier workload while you are expected to be working.”
Patience nodded, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling. It had worked. Despite the thousand times she’d told herself her plan would never work, it had.
“We won’t be paying you less than you deserve.” Mr. Gilbert was looking kinder every minute. “You will get four shillings a week, and if you need time off, you will let us know.” Mr. Gilbert smiled, and the white of his hair rose above his ears.
“Thank you, Mr. Gilbert.” The pleasant butler would be remembered in her prayers.
He only nodded. “Mrs. Bates, I had come to speak to you of the fruit stores, but I will return later after you acquaint Patience with her duties.” He turned and left the room.
Mrs. Bates nodded, but once he was out of earshot, she muttered under her breath. “Time off. I never get time off. Doris gets time off, a new maid off the street gets time off, but I would like to see him try and do without my services for a night or two.”
“Pardon?” Patience asked.
“Nothing,” Mrs. Bates huffed. “Don’t ask for nights off if you expect to keep your position.”
“Yes, ma’am.” There wasn’t anything Patience needed to do anyway. Staying in this household was the smartest of decisions, as it was. Straying from the house could result in any manner of unpleasantness, such as encountering someone she knew.
“Tell me why you are so scratched up,” Mrs. Bates said.
“I had a little trouble getting through the bushes to find the back entrance is all. Perhaps it is time General Woodsworth had some of his hedges trimmed.”
Mrs. Bates’s frown produced deep lines below her mouth. “Where exactly did you come through the bushes?”
“To the side of the house. I almost went to the front door,” Patience admitted, and Mrs. Bates gasped. “But I didn’t,” she added quickly. “It’s just that I couldn’t find the path. That passage through the bushes is a little tight; I’m surprised General Woodsworth would make his servants come that way.” And how would Mrs. Bates fit? Patience was quite slender and still managed to have a few marks to show.
In answer, Mrs. Bates strode back to the door and opened it. Patience followed her, and Mrs. Bates pointed to the left side of the house. “We come in through the side road.” At that moment, a man carrying a bundle of firewood entered the garden from a road adjacent to the home and dropped his load in a wood pile.
A side road.
Why hadn’t she thought of that? The home was situated on a corner, and if she had just followed the road to the side of the home a bit farther, she would have seen this entrance. Patience’s neck grew hot. Of course people wouldn’t be asked to climb through bushes every time they went in and out of the house. What had she been thinking? Mrs. Bates closed the door. “I trust you will use that pathway from now on and not find yourself clamoring through General Woodsworth’s bushes any longer.”
She straightened her back. She might not know how to do any housework, but she would be able to do that. “Of course.”
“Good. Well then, let’s get you to work. Wash that mud off your boots. It’s time for the wardrobes and dressers to be polished.”
Chapter 3
Anthony Woodsworth ran over the numbers one more time before placing the final monthly expenditure down on the bottom line. It was good. Ever since investing in the railroad, it had been very good. Next month would be different after purchasing the estate in Kent. A new estate always meant several months of expenditures would be much higher than income. He hated when the numbers lined up that way, but the estate in Kent would be worth it. This land might be the final piece in the puzzle that would allow Mr. and Mrs. Morgan to finally approve him for their daughter’s hand.
Two years. Surely two years of courting should be enough to allow an engagement.
He folded the three sheets of paper in thirds, always measuring twice before creasing it firmly between his thumb and the desk. Opening the drawer to his left, he reached in without looking to retrieve his sealing wax. Father would want to see these numbers. His fingers fumbled in the desk until he took the time to glance in the drawer. His wax was missing. His hand stilled. Who had been moving his things? He