“Mary,” Angelika said. “I must speak with you.” There was still no answer. “Are you ill?” She pushed the door open wide and stood there, completely astonished by what she saw.
Mary’s tiny home was how Angelika imagined a mouse might live. Every wall surface was decorated with . . . scraps. The old woman had apparently kept every offcut of fabric, discarded garment, pretty soap paper, or decorated parchment. Similar colors were overlaid and grouped together in a pleasing harmony, and in the dim light from the one dormer window Angelika could appreciate the artistry applied.
“A lifetime of Frankenstein refuse has been repurposed,” Angelika marveled quietly. Had she ever thought to buy her a gift during her trips to Paris? The old woman would have been in raptures over a few yards of silk, or gold fringing. “This is something we have in common. I, too, am passionate about fine fabrics.” She ventured in further, but could not stand at full height. “Is this why her back is so bent?”
A dish of glass marbles was glowing on the windowsill, beneath a drying row of ancient undergarments that Angelika would not see fit to wipe Belladonna’s face with. Doll making must have been her hobby, because she had a row of simple creations made of wooden clothespins, each with a little gown and a painted face that made Angelika smile.
There was no sound or movement deeper within the room. Fearing what she might find, she stepped closer to a pair of curtains and peeked through.
Mary was lying on her back, mouth open wide and skin sagging over her skull, and Angelika’s heart almost leapt out of her throat. But then she made a crackling inhale, and everything was all right again.
“Mary,” Angelika said, sitting gingerly on the edge of the low bed. “Mary, it’s me.”
The old woman jolted awake. Confusion gave way to slow recognition in her watery blue eyes, and a fearsome scowl spread across her face. This was a monumental intrusion, and Angelika’s inner child was screeching at her to run for her life.
Mary asked, “What time is it?”
“Just lie back. You are unwell?” Angelika shook her head when Mary attempted to rise. “No. Stay still, I order you. You have had a turn?”
Mary sank down against her pillow, expression mutinous. “Who told you that?”
“I guessed. What type of turn, and how often do you have them?”
“That’s my business, missy.”
The two women stared at each other.
Seeking to calm her, Angelika said, “Sarah and the cook have lunch in hand, and besides, everybody is busy. There may be no one to serve today.”
Giving in to the urge to retreat, Angelika tied back the bedroom curtains and went to the window. She bent low beneath a holey gusset to peer outside. “I can see Will’s house from here.” It was the first in a row of five stone structures. She could even make out a cheerful wisp of smoke rising from his chimney. “Perhaps I should come up here to spy on him.”
A grand, optimistic idea struck her now: when she accepted his eventual marriage proposal, Will could give his cottage to Sarah. She turned to Mary to suggest it, but the old woman had a hard look on her face.
“I have not seen either of my suitors in an age. Maybe they’ve changed their minds,” Angelika joked with a half smile, expecting her to agree. But Mary just lay with her hands folded on her stomach, regarding her with an inscrutable expression. “I wasn’t sure what to expect,” Angelika said, polishing Mary’s window with her sleeve. “But I thought being courted would involve more romance.”
Silence. Perhaps turning the conversation back to Mary would be better.
“How old were you when you met your own husband, William?” She picked up a peg doll and waggled it at Mary. “This is rather sweet.”
“Was there a reason for your visit, beyond idiotic chitchat? If not, I want you out.” The old woman crackled with anger now. “What makes you think you can just walk in here?”
Angelika had to swallow down a retort that might go something like This is my house. Some of that sentiment was admittedly in her tone when she replied, “Yes, as a matter of fact, there was something I wanted to discuss with you. It’s plain that you’re no longer able to keep up as you once did.” She waved an arm at Mary’s supine body. “If you are having health troubles, it is time to let the new staff take over.”
Mary said incredulously, “What?”
“It is ridiculous to hear that you are having turns and feeling so unwell.” They weren’t friends, but surely it wasn’t something Angelika should have to find out about from another servant. “I’m saying we must discuss how much longer you will be working in your current role.”