The Housekeepers(49)

The Janes thumped the pedals, and the boat roared ahead, churning the water. Winnie could see other boaters looking around in displeasure, rocking on the waves. The motion was making her feel queasy. She tapped Alice’s arm. “Parker. You’ll head upstairs to sew Miss de Vries into her costume. Take your time about it. You want her strained, harassed, and running late.”

Alice looked troubled, running her hand through the murky water. “I can’t force her to do anything.”

Mrs. King smiled into the distance. “You’ll be fine.”

And that was all.

How did she do it? Winnie wondered. How could she be so smooth, so certain? Winnie had to clench and unclench her hands when she spoke, consulting her notes. But Mrs. King was different. She held the vision in her head. Look in her eyes long enough and you began to see it yourself, lights glinting in the dark.

Mrs. Bone said, wrinkling her brow, “Now listen. I’ve been looking at our crates. You need to do something about them. They’re so heavy they’ll make the whole house shake when you winch them down.”

“We’ve oiled the pulley,” said Jane-one.

Jane-two nodded. “And we’ll have mats on the floor, to take the landing. We’ve measured everything, even Madam’s bed.”

“Hmm,” said Mrs. Bone. “If you say so, my Janes.”

Winnie wished she had the knack for convincing Mrs. Bone of something so easily.

“Her bed?” said Alice, looking worried. “Do you plan to take her with you, while she’s sleeping?”

Jane-one sniffed. “As long as we’re very careful with the angles, as long as we can get it hooked up nice and easy, and it doesn’t swing too much…”

Alice scrutinized Mrs. King. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m finding this very dull,” muttered Hephzibah, lowering her parasol.

“Hephzibah, please,” said Winnie.

Alice raised her voice. “Dinah…”

“Not Dinah,” Mrs. King replied. “Mrs. King. Unless you’re going to gag Madam with chloroform or tie her up or sell her to a kidnapper for ransom, that won’t work. She’ll catch us, she’ll see everything, she’ll know exactly what’s going on.”

Winnie studied Alice with concern. The girl had gone pink in the cheeks, speaking so boldly. But Mrs. King was unruffled. “Of course she’ll catch us.”

Alice paled. “What on earth do you mean?”

Mrs. King tilted her face to the sun, tipping the brim of her hat. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow,” said Mrs. Bone. “It’s all happening tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. King mildly, “it is.”

“Tell me now, please.” Alice looked strained.

“Winnie,” said Mrs. King, very calmly. “Carry on.” She turned back to face the trees.

Alice’s voice shook slightly. “No. I refuse to go on.”

“She refuses,” said Jane-two.

“Not complying,” said Jane-one. “Throw her in the lake.”

“Girls…”

“I’ll throw you in the lake, you beasts—”

Winnie didn’t like the way the wind was blowing. “Ladies, please…”

“I’ll wring your necks, all of your necks,” exclaimed Mrs. Bone. “I’ve been up since four o’clock this morning throwing out the slops, spit-polishing the utensils, scrubbing Cook’s undies…”

The Janes pedaled madly, hurtling around the edge of the boating lake.

“I hope I’m not going to miss my dinner,” said Hephzibah with an enormous sigh.

Winnie felt her patience start to snap. “Of course you won’t.”

“You say that, but it’s past teatime already.”

“Ladies, let’s move on,” said Winnie.

“Move on? I can’t think when I’m this famished.”

“Then go and sing for your supper,” said Winnie, rounding on her. “Or whatever it is you do to pay for your subsistence.”

“I pay for my subsistence with my talent,” said Hephzibah. “A rare talent, as well you know!”

Winnie’s forbearance reached the end of its limits. She couldn’t help herself. “A rare talent? Hardly. We all know how your sort of actress makes her living. Oldest profession in the book.”

The Janes stopped pedaling. The boat slowed, careening toward the bank.

Mrs. Bone’s eyebrows shot up. Alice’s glance flashed sideways, and Mrs. King frowned.

Hephzibah’s expression cracked open, color racing up her neck, exposed.

“Well, now,” said Mrs. Bone. “Fancy that.”

The women studied Hephzibah.

Winnie felt her skin growing suddenly warm. “I…” she began.

As the Janes steered the boat to the riverbank, Mrs. King’s voice cut through the air. “Winnie,” she said. “Get out.”

Shame rose within her. “Hephzibah…”

“Out,” said Mrs. King again. “You know the rules. If you need to make someone feel small, so that you can feel tall…”

Mrs. Bone recited the rest. “Then, my goodness, my dear, you’re no person at all. Quite right. I taught you that myself. You should all listen to that, my girls.”