Hephzibah was standing at a distance. They could hear Miss de Vries as she said, “I’m afraid I shall have to take my leave of you, Your Grace. I’ve yet to change into my costume.”
Hephzibah turned, in full view of Cook. “As you wish, Miss de Vries,” Hephzibah said. “I shall gather my strength in expectation of the dancing.”
“Oh,” said Cook, an expulsion of breath. “I know her.”
Mrs. Bone felt her chest tighten. She shoved her vase at Cook. “Give me a hand with this. It needs taking down to the courtyard.”
It was always going to happen. There was always going to be one of the servants, one of the old guard, who’d remember that scullery girl. Mrs. Bone almost let out a bitter laugh. Of course it would be Cook. She stepped out from behind the pillar, staring desperately at the back of Hephzibah’s head, trying to telegraph a message through the air: Get out of the way, get yourself hidden, quick.
Miss de Vries heard the words, and looked straight at Cook.
Mrs. Bone froze. She knew what should happen. What would happen, in any normal circumstance. Miss de Vries would frown, glance around for a footman, or Mr. Shepherd, someone who could clear Cook out of the way. But she didn’t. She just studied Cook, curious, and then slowly—oh, dreadfully slowly—turned back to Hephzibah.
Hephzibah’s gaze widened, sensing crisis. And later Mrs. Bone thought, if it weren’t for Hephzibah’s courage, her magnificence, if she weren’t such a powdered and painted sort of heathen, they wouldn’t have made it through the night at all.
Hephzibah tilted her head toward Miss de Vries and said, in a confidential whisper, “You would seem to have a rather eager sort of woman working for you there.”
It felt to Mrs. Bone that the air screwed itself up. She forced the vase into Cook’s hands, feeling light-headed. “Move,” she whispered in her ear. “Now.” She saw Hephzibah moving on, unconcerned. Felt Cook go rigid, color racing into her cheeks.
“Sorry, mum, sorry, m’lady,” she said, dipping a curtsey, the vase slipping into her hands.
“And off we go,” muttered Mrs. Bone, getting her by the elbow. “Off we go.”
“I…”
“Now, Cook.”
Yes, go, go, go, she thought, run. She dragged Cook away, feeling eyes on her back, ice racing after them through the floor.
Cook said, “I just thought…for a second. It was odd… I thought she looked like…”
Mrs. Bone banged open the door, got them out of the hall. “Here,” she said, shoving another vase at Cook. “You’d best take that and all.” Feints and distractions were the only things that ever worked on Cook.
Cook scowled at Mrs. Bone, said in a dangerous voice, “You want to watch your tongue. Who made you queen of the castle?”
“The Lord himself,” Mrs. Bone said, although she was breathing fast, her heart hammering. “And you’ll thank me later. But would you listen, Cook? There’s something awful I need to tell you…”
24
Five hours to go
Alice had slipped out for her break, checking over her shoulder every second. Winnie met her on the corner of Mount Street, a purple veil covering her face. The slump in her shoulders made her look exhausted.
“I don’t have long,” Alice muttered. “Can we make it quick?”
Winnie lifted her veil, checking they weren’t being observed. Her skin looked gray, her eyes worried. “Fine. Talk me through the plan. I need to make sure you’re on top of the details.”
Alice dug her hands in her pockets, looked nervily down the road. “It’s like we said. I’ll make a fuss. Kick up a hullabaloo, get Madam downstairs so Mrs. Bone’s men can start on the third floor.”
Winnie shook her head. “No. That’s not in your nature. And Miss de Vries will know your nature. She’ll have worked you out already.”
Miss de Vries shimmered in Alice’s mind. She yearned to get back to the costume, to correct it, to make the last adjustments. She couldn’t wait to fix it to Madam’s skin. She tried to conceal all this with a shaky smile.
“I’ve only been working here five minutes,” she said.
“You think that matters? Miss de Vries is an excellent judge of character. She’ll know if you’re behaving strangely.”
Alice pictured Miss de Vries’s eyes. Gray, changeable, penetrating her. Was she behaving strangely? All Alice’s emotions felt entirely strange. “Fine. Tell me what to do.”
“You tell me.”
Alice began to sweat. She had been given the easiest job of any of them, and that made her even more anxious. Watch Madam. That’s all she had to do. Just watch her. Nothing more than that. If she got this wrong, she’d have failed them all, ruined the whole enterprise. She felt sick.
“Alice?”
“I suppose I’d…feel badly about things. Being a snitch, I mean. I’d be hemming and hawing about whether to say anything.”
“Good, that sounds right.”
“I’d say, I don’t wish to cast any aspersions…”
“Hm.”
“All right, I’d say, I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“Better.” Winnie squeezed her arm. “And you should look guilty. Go red, if you can.”
“I can’t make myself do that.”
“Picture Miss de Vries trying to skin you alive.”
Alice paled. That idea gave her a quick, hard kick of pain—something altogether unexpected. She released her breath. “Look here, Winnie, I don’t see how I can do it. She’s impossible to control. There’s no earthly way I can get her downstairs.”
Winnie gave her a nervy smile. “Certainly you can. You’re doing marvelously. Now, once she’s finished in the servants’ hall, you must trail her. Stay on her all night—indoors, outdoors, everywhere. Mrs. Bone’s men won’t go near her rooms until the last possible moment, for safety’s sake. The second we give you the word, bring her to us—wherever you are, no matter what’s happening. Make her come.”
Alice had been over and over this part of the plan. “I’ll try.”
“Alice, what’s up? You look terribly pale.”
Alice shook her head. “Nothing.”
“I told you: Mrs. King’s awfully pleased. She trusts you implicitly.”
“Who does? Mrs. King, or Madam?”
Winnie frowned. “Mrs. King, naturally.” Winnie paused. Then said, with care, “How are things, with Miss de Vries?”
Alice felt a wave of unease. “Fine. I mean, splendid.” Was that right? “I hardly know. She’s up at five. She spends her morning on her letters and the papers. Reads from two till teatime. Then it’s dinner, bed. Not much to tell you, really.” Alice laughed, a hollow sound.
Winnie studied her, silent. “She’s a very captivating person,” she said.
Alice looked away. “If you say so.”
“I do say so. She can be terribly charming. Perceptive. Good sense of humor. You’re new here, so you’re easily susceptible to it.”
“Oh, naturally, I’m everybody’s chump.” Alice’s own anger caught her off guard. She swallowed it. “I don’t mean to be rude,” she added. “Perhaps it’s…the strain.”