The housekeeper gave her a sharp look. “I shan’t speak further about whatever you think you overheard.”
Matilda shook her head. “I won’t ask you to.”
“Good.” Mrs. Harris reached for the ring of keys on her hip.
“Do you need help?” Matilda asked impulsively.
The housekeeper’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ve been running this household for decades.”
“I can’t imagine managing a household even half this size,” Matilda admitted.
“You’d learn,” said Mrs. Harris.
“Would I, though? To Gilbourne’s standards?” Matilda said doubtfully.
Mrs. Harris’s expression turned considering. “Come on, then. If you’re that bored, I’ll show you the rounds. Any house can use an extra pair of hands.”
Matilda grinned and held up her journal. “I’ll take notes.”
Chapter 23
Matilda spent the rest of the morning and all afternoon trailing Mrs. Harris up and down stairs and through almost every room of the house, save the earl’s bedchamber—Matilda would only enter there if personally invited—and the earl’s private study, where he was currently holed up and had been so all day.
She hadn’t had time to dwell on his humiliating rejection of her after the best kiss of Matilda’s life. She was too busy jotting notes in her journal of all the things Mrs. Harris told Matilda she’d need to be cognizant of in this or any similar household, were she to make a good match.
If Matilda had memorized a dizzying number of names at the card party the night before, that was only the beginning. She quickly learnt that over half of the servants hadn’t even been present. There were more maids and footmen under this roof than a country miss could shake a stick at.
And a hierarchy for everyone! The housekeeper was the most important woman—next to the lady of the house, of course—and the butler the most important man, next to the earl. Buttons, despite being one of the newest members of staff, ranked as one of the highest. Apparently upstairs maids had higher standing than downstairs maids, and a lady’s maid the most elevated of all.
Matilda asked a litany of increasingly impertinent questions. What were the tasks, the schedules, the wages, the unwritten rules? She wrote them all in her journal, separated by floor and section and punctuated with little charts to illustrate timetables and rules governing behavior, dress, and holidays.
That Mrs. Harris kept all of this information in her head was a stunning feat. The housekeeper could tell the keys apart on sight, knew at a glance if corners had been cut and whose head should roll. She could also scent when someone had gone above and beyond their duty, and deserved special recognition for their dedication and efficiency.
And this was just any old ordinary Wednesday! If this were the sort of house that hosted dinner parties and grand balls, or if the Earl of Gilbourne were the sort of man to up and rotate residences on a whim, there would be a thousand other considerations one would need to execute with flawless precision.
Matilda had never felt more imperfect in her life than as she scrawled line after barely legible line, trying her best to keep up with Mrs. Harris’s detailed explanations.
They paused only for luncheon. As was apparently his custom, Gilbourne took his meal alone in his study, allowing only a trusted silent footman to slip inside its walls to deliver a heavy tray of covered silver dishes.
Matilda took her luncheon in the small dining room where the upstairs servants gathered, setting her journal aside to feast on savory pies and wincing at the purple indentation her pencil had made on her index finger from all her scribbling.
“Highly irregular,” Mrs. Harris said of Matilda’s presence at the servants’ table, but the others were delighted to have her—especially once they discovered Matilda was trying to learn everything she could about the running of a household.
They talked over each other, forks in hand and food in mouths, giving enthusiastic explanations of each of their posts, how long they’d had it, and how it compared to previous situations before becoming employed by the Earl of Gilbourne.
Every one of them said they had never earned higher wages or been treated more fairly than here in this household, serving the earl.
“To be fair,” said one of the chamber maids, “he’ll threaten to sack you if you fail to meet expectations—”
“And it’s not an idle threat,” put in a footman. “There’s been dozens who haven’t lasted more than a month—”
“A week—”
“A day—”
Was that what had happened in the library? Matilda had failed to meet expectations, and had therefore been summarily sacked?
“But for those who fulfill their duty with efficiency and honor,” Mrs. Harris continued, “my lord rewards such achievements with a home for a lifetime, and wages double or triple what you’d earn, even if you worked for the Prince Regent himself.”
