“Fine.”
Now they sat together near the bandstand. Park Lane glistened between the trees, tantalizingly close. Mrs. King licked her ice cream with relish.
“How’s Hephzibah getting on with her stagehands?” she said, rubbing her mouth with her hand.
Winnie rolled her eyes. “You know Hephzibah.”
They’d put Hephzibah to work on Mrs. Bone’s men: training their accents, fixing their manners, straightening their posture. She would be responsible for directing them through the house, on the night of the ball.
“Is she terrifying everybody?”
“She’s terrifying me. She thinks she’s Sarah Bernhardt.”
“Perhaps she’s better.”
Winnie lowered her voice. “This is a robbery, not opening night at the Coliseum.”
“It could be both.”
“I’m serious.”
“And so am I. Hephzibah’s good at her job. And she can get close to the action.”
“I’m good at my job.”
“Sewing, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve got Alice for that.”
“That’s not the point.”
Mrs. King sighed. “Actually, that’s entirely the point. I need you by my side.”
Winnie shuffled in her chair. “D’you think I’m lousy at needlework?”
Mrs. King saw her worried little expression, and felt a burst of affection. “Not lousy, no.”
The crowds were moving in gentle waves across the park. “It’s horribly tiring, all this,” said Winnie.
“Have a nap.”
“I don’t have time to have a nap.”
“Then have another ice.”
Winnie inspected her ice cream sadly as it dripped relentlessly onto the bench. “When did you become such a brute?”
Mrs. King dug her gently in the ribs. “When did you become such a goose?”
There was a long silence, but for the shushing of the trees overhead.
Winnie wiped her hands. “Dinah,” she said. “Is there any more to this?”
Mrs. King licked her fingers. “More to what?”
“All this.” She met Mrs. King’s gaze. “This job.”
“You mean beyond earning a fortune greater than our wildest dreams?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. King finished her ice. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I know you. You’re a proud woman. But you’re not that proud.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You lost your job. Bad luck, poor you. But you’re not struggling. You’ve got your wits about you. You’ll be fine.” Winnie looked contemplative. “One doesn’t tear a house down every time she grows tired of gainful employment.”
Mrs. King laughed. “Oh, doesn’t one?”
“No,” said Winnie stubbornly. “So I’m asking: is there something more going on?”
Sometimes, in the dark of the night, Mrs. King thought about the one thing that frightened her about her plan. Other people. All their strange little fears, their jealousies, their persistent needs. Animals didn’t buck authority this way. Birds didn’t. They flew in perfect formation, a powerful confederacy.
“Oh,” said Mrs. King, “probably.”
Winnie’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me.”
There were times when a titbit, a tiny particle of information, soothed her fine band of women. It was like training dogs, feeding birds. She swiveled position on the bench. “When I first came to Park Lane, Mr. de Vries made me a promise.” She stretched her legs. “Two promises, actually.”
Something darkened in Winnie’s eyes. “Mr. de Vries?”
“Yes. First: that people wouldn’t ask me where I came from. Second: he’d pay my mother’s hospital fees.”
“Hospital?”
“Yes. I don’t know what you’d call it. A workhouse. An asylum.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? I’m not sure I do.”
“I’m sorry,” Winnie said.
Images came into Mrs. King’s mind, the old ones. Gray light. Mother’s stare, growing stranger. “They promised me I wouldn’t have to talk about it. I could put everyone behind me. Mother. Alice, too.”
Winnie said slowly, “We’ve never discussed this, you know. In all our years together, never. I always thought it was a strange thing.”
“What was?”
“You. Coming to Park Lane. Right out of the blue. No family, no papers. You didn’t even know how to tie your apron properly.”
“Well,” said Mrs. King, “I had you to teach me, didn’t I?”
Winnie tilted her head. “We know what sort of girl arrives in a house without a character.”
Mrs. King laughed. “I wasn’t in that sort of trouble, Winnie.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then why did Mr. de Vries hire you?”
Mrs. King had been asked that question before. “Old friend of the family.”
Winnie let out a short laugh. “An old friend. I see.” She shook her head. “Good Lord. When I think about the way we bent over backward for you, made exceptions for you. Changed breakfast time, suppertime, gave you the nice chores, extra candles, extra sugar, more tea. A bed by the window, a room of your own, new caps, free mending…”
“You didn’t do so badly by him yourself.”
“I worked. I worked my fingers to the bone. I’ve never worked so hard in my life.”
Winnie’s face glimmered with something hard to read. Mrs. King had to allow that it was true. Winnie had plodded through that house like a shire horse: inexhaustible, determined. She’d gone from kitchen maid to between-maid to housemaid to house-parlormaid. When she made housekeeper, they gave her a round of riotous applause. Even Cook had been decent about it. Five years and then—she left. No farewells. It took Mrs. King months to even find her, selling tatty ostrich feathers to a milliner in Spitalfields.
Winnie took a breath. “What was he to you?”
“What do you think?”
“What do I think? I think you were on a pedestal the moment you arrived. I think you had protection. I’ve no notion why. That’s what I’m asking.”
Mrs. King concentrated on keeping her face smooth. “Heavens, Inspector.”
Winnie raised a finger. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Manage me.”
Mrs. King felt her patience thinning. She caught it before it snapped. “It’s my job,” she said coldly, “to manage you. I’m managing everyone. That’s what I’m here for.”
Winnie was calm. “Dinah. Tell me.”
They’d come right up to the brink of something.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” Mrs. King said. “Really.”
“What tree? I don’t even know what I’m asking.”
Mrs. King rose. “We’ve got work to do. I need to talk to Sanger about the camels.”
“No.”
Winnie didn’t move. If it had been Hephzibah asking, or Mrs. Bone, or Alice, it never would have come out. They were easy to sidestep, divert, deflect. But Winnie simply sat there and waited for the truth. She expected it of Mrs. King. She deserved it.