also served refreshments, and when they were seated at a table, to Tilda's astonishment, ordered tea and hot buttered muffins.
"How old is Martin?" Charlotte began.
"Twenty-three," Tilda answered immediately.
Charlotte was impressed. That was young for a valet, which was a skilled occupation. At such an age she would have expected him to be no more than a footman. Either he had been in service since he was very young or he was unusually quick to learn.
"How long has he been in the Garrick household?" she continued.
"Since 'e were seventeen," Tilda said. " 'E went there as a footman, but Mr. Stephen took a likin' to 'im. 'E were a bootboy wi' the Furnivals afore that, but they din't need another footman, so 'e moved on, an' up, like." There was a ring of pride in her voice and she sat a little more upright, her shoulders squared as she said it.
A shred of humor flickered into Charlotte's mind. How Tellman would despise a life of such dependence upon the favor of one family, the physical comfort bought at such a price of pride. And yet, as Gracie had pointed out to him in some heat at Charlotte's kitchen table, everyone depended upon the goodwill of others, on their skills or their patronage, their friendship or their protection. It was only that some forms of dependence were more obvious than others, not any more real.
"It sounds as if he is very good at his job," she said aloud, and saw Tilda smile back. "Was he happy there, as far as you know?"
Tilda leaned forward a little. "Yes, 'e were! That's just it, 'e never said a word about not bein' suited, an' I would 'a known. We din't never tell each other lies."
Charlotte believed that was true of Tilda, the younger and far more dependent of the two, but Martin might well have kept his own counsel on some subjects. However, it would serve no purpose now to challenge Tilda's perception of his nature. "What does he look like?" she asked instead.
"Bit like me," Tilda answered very practically. "Taller, o' course, an' bigger, like, but same colored 'air an' eyes, an' same kind o' nose." She indicated her own short, neat features.
"I see. That's very helpful. Is there anything else you can tell us about him which might be of use?" Charlotte asked. "Is there any young lady he admires? Or who admires him, perhaps?"
"Yer thinkin' as someone might 'a set 'er cap at 'im, an' if 'e turned 'er down, got nasty?" Tilda said with a shiver.
The serving girl came with tea and hot buttered muffins and they waited until she was gone. Charlotte indicated that they should eat, and she herself poured the tea. "It is possible," she answered the question. "We need to know a great deal more. And since people are apparently not going to tell us willingly, we shall have to find it out for ourselves, and as soon as possible. Tilda, they already know you, and your interest in the matter. I think it will be wisest if you do not call them again, at least for the time being. I am not acquainted with the family, although I might contrive to change that. Gracie, it seems as if you will have to be the one to begin."
" 'Ow am I gonna do that?" Gracie asked, her muffin halfway to her mouth. Her voice was a mixture of determination and fear. She very carefully avoided looking at Tilda.
Charlotte had racked her brain and still had no idea. "We shall discuss that when we get home," she replied. Gracie might very well read her indecision, but she would not betray it in front of Tilda. "Would you like more tea?" she offered.
They finished the muffins, Charlotte paid for them, and as soon as they were outside on the pavement again Tilda, now acutely aware of the time she had been away on her errands, which no queuing could explain, hastily thanked them both and took her leave.
" 'Ow am I gonna get inter the Garrick 'ouse an' ask 'em questions?" Gracie said as soon as they were alone and walking back towards Keppel Street. Her slightly apologetic air, as if she knew she was causing embarrassment but could not avoid it, showed that she had no idea either.
"Well, we can't tell the truth," Charlotte replied, looking straight ahead of her. "Which is a shame, because the truth is easier to remember. So it will have to be