in the day nursery with the maid. She planned to change that immediately. A child should be outside in the fresh air in the cooler part of the day. Vanessa had spied a lovely shady folly through the trees, like some ancient relic from the past. She hurried to catch Mrs. Royce, who was walking briskly along the corridor.
They climbed up a narrow stairway.
“How many on the staff here?” Vanessa asked to break the silence.
“Twenty house staff. Dorcas is the head maid. The butler is away at present.”
“I didn’t see a footman.”
Mrs. Royce firmed her lips. “We have none.” She stopped and threw open a door. “This is the schoolroom.”
It was a good-sized attic room with comfortable chairs, a table, a child’s desk, and a slate blackboard on a stand. “Excellent,” Vanessa said with satisfaction.
At the end of the corridor was Vanessa’s bedroom, its sloping walls covered in a daisy-patterned paper and hung with pressed flowers in frames. The white-painted iron bed had a floral coverlet, and a writing desk stood beside it. An upholstered chair was placed near the fireplace, which had a wide shelf above the mantel where Vanessa could put the few things she’d brought with her. A rug covered the floorboards. The small room looked snug. Surprised at her good fortune, Vanessa said, “How nice. I shall feel very much at home here.” The curtains were closed, and the room stuffy. She crossed to the window and drew them back, looking down over verdant lawns and trees to the picturesque folly. Its circular roof was supported by decorative round columns, and it overlooked an ornamental lake.
“I do hope so.” Mrs. Royce firmed her lips. “Blythe needs stability.”
Had she lacked it thus far? Unsure how to reply, Vanessa found she wasn’t required to, for Mrs. Royce, who appeared to be a woman of few words, already stood at the door. She gestured. “We have all modern plumbing here. There’s a lavatory and bathroom for your use on this floor. Tea will be brought to your room at four. From tomorrow, you shall take it in the schoolroom with Miss Blythe.”
As soon as the door closed behind the housekeeper, Vanessa rushed to open the window. A sultry breeze wafted in, but she relished the light and the fresh air.
In the bathroom, she found the bathtub had a mahogany surround, and hot and cold water issued forth from a noisy gas geyser. Delighted, Vanessa resisted the urge to bathe and made do by washing her hands. She looked into the mirror and cringed when she spied the dark smudge on her nose. Her eyes went large with alarm. What had the viscount thought of her! She scrubbed her face with a washcloth until it glowed and sponged her hot neck with cool water.
Her trunk had arrived while she was in the bathroom. Having recently discarded her mourning clothes, she changed into a fresh grey skirt and white blouse, cinching it in with a wide belt. After tidying her hair, she dabbed on a little lily of the valley scent, adding some to her handkerchief.
She removed her few precious possessions from the trunk, arranging her pearl-handled brush and comb set on the dresser, beside her mother’s miniature, wrought by her father’s hand with love in each stroke of his brush. Gazing at it brought tears to her eyes. She dabbed at them with her handkerchief then bent over the trunk to take out her father’s books on art and her mother’s history books, along with her own. She arranged them on the shelf, adding the pretty shells she’d gathered from the Cornish shore.
Having unpacked her few gowns and underthings, she sank onto the bed. It was still hard to believe her comfortable life by the seaside was gone. That it had come to this, a servant in another man’s house. Her parents would not have approved, but what choice did she have? Her mother had been an educated woman with an interest in politics. She had joined with many like-minded people in her fight for women’s rights. She had been sought by politicians and reformers alike. Women had crowded into the parlor for meetings. Her father felt less passion for her mother’s causes. He would cast them a fond smile before disappearing into his studio to paint.
The tea tray arrived soon after a bell pealed through the house. Feather-light, fluffy scones with plum jam and a wedge of fruitcake accompanied the pot of tea. She savored the last drops of