Audrey seemed frozen in shock. Eve wondered if she’d even heard what she said. Mrs. Smith gave Eve a withering glare before resting her hand on Audrey’s shoulder and gently steering her away from the scullery. “Come. You belong upstairs, Miss Audrey.”
“I try not to think about all the things I don’t have,” Eve continued, speaking louder now as she followed behind. “My daddy is dead, Granny Maud is gone, and I can’t live in our little cottage anymore. But it’s not so bad here. Mum and I have a lot of friends. We’re saving our money so I can take a typing course and get a job in the village or maybe even London.”
Mrs. Smith paused when they reached the steps leading up to Miss Audrey’s part of the house and gave Eve a stern look. “That’s enough, Eve. Go back to work.” Instead, Eve followed them up the stairs to the baize-covered door.
“Know why that door is padded and covered with cloth on our side?” Eve asked as Mrs. Smith opened it for Audrey. “So you and your family won’t hear us or smell us. Your side of the door is all carved and pretty and ours is plain. That’s how different your life is from mine.”
“Be quiet, Eve.”
“I’ll be your friend, Miss Audrey, if you want me to be,” Eve called after her. The door swung shut. Eve hurried back down to the scullery, knowing she was in trouble. She sank down on a wooden stool, determined not to cry, and waited for the telltale jingle of the housekeeper’s keys. It came soon enough.
“What am I going to do with you, Eve?” Mrs. Smith asked, folding her arms across her chest. She didn’t look as angry as Eve expected her to be.
“You’ll tell me to pack my things, I suppose.”
“You’re right—I should do that. But your mother is Lady Rosamunde’s personal maid. If I fire you, she’ll leave as well, and the missus would be frantic without her.” She studied Eve for a long moment, and Eve thought she detected sympathy in her eyes. “Imagine, telling Miss Audrey off the way you did! What were you thinking?”
How could Eve explain that she was only doing what Granny Maud used to do whenever Eve fell into a well of self-pity?
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what trouble comes down from above,” Mrs. Smith finally said. “I’m sure we’ll be hearing from Miss Blake or even Lady Rosamunde herself before too long.”
Eve returned to her chores, waiting for the sky to fall. If she had any regrets for what she’d said, they were for Mum’s sake, not her own. Mum might lose her job because of her.
Shortly before dinner one of the chambermaids brought Eve an envelope with her name printed on it. She dried her hands on her apron and tore it open, eager to get the bad news over with as quickly as possible.
Dear Eve,
I hope you didn’t get into trouble because of me. You were right. I was feeling sorry for myself. Thank you for the strawberries and for cheering me up. You are a very brave person.
Your friend,
Audrey Clarkson
Audrey heard Miss Blake’s familiar knock on her door—three soft, swift taps—before she bustled into the room. “It’s time to go down, Audrey. Are you ready?” She straightened the bow on Audrey’s dress and smoothed a loose curl that had fallen into her eyes. Mother would scold both Miss Blake and Audrey if her manners and appearance weren’t perfect. Miss Blake was in her late thirties, plump and pale and plain, a distant second cousin of Mother’s who had never managed to find a husband before falling on hard times. Even though her services as a governess were no longer needed, she remained a part of the household.
“No more tears, Audrey,” she said sternly. “Your mother won’t be pleased if you continue to cry and mope.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let’s go. And mind your posture.”
Each evening when Audrey was home, she was required to go down to the drawing room with Miss Blake to speak with her parents for a few minutes before Mother and Father went through to dinner. Audrey had been planning what she would say ever since Eve showed her the scullery. She needed to be courageous. If Eve could work in that terrible cave all day, Audrey could face her parents in the drawing room. She would speak her mind without any tears, just as Eve had.
“I trust you’ve finished being dramatic and are ready to behave like a proper young lady again?” Mother asked when Audrey halted in front of her. Mother looked beautiful as she lounged on the sofa, her sequined gown sparkling like sunshine on water. A trail of smoke drifted from her long cigarette holder and floated toward the ceiling.