As she filed out last in line, Viv overheard Mrs. Olivebury scold Chloe.
“Now, was that necessary, Your Grace? I’m sure every member of your loyal staff works very hard. A few moments of idleness whilst the four of us have a chat wouldn’t hurt anything. In fact, my husbandhas been drafting a reform bill in which protections for residential employees would be—”
Viv nearly tripped over her own feet. A plain old ordinary Mrs! Criticizing a duchess to her face! Over perceived rudeness to paid servants!
Jacob made several strange hand gestures.
She made a face and whispered, “I haven’t finished learning sign language yet.”
“I said, Faircliffetoldyou Olivebury’s politics are on our side,” he whispered back.
Viv could still hardly credit that a wealthy white stranger would leap to her defense without hesitation.
“Oy!” A hall boy rounded the corner up ahead of them and stopped in his tracks. “What are you doing back here?”
“I’m assistant housekeeper to the Duke and Duchess of Faircliffe,” Tommy announced grandly, patting her white wig. She lowered her voice. “But I used to be maid-staff for Mr. and Mrs. Olivebury out at the Yorkshire cottage. Nowthat’show a household should run, am I right?”
This was a calculated risk. Graham had provided them with a list of names and dates of service for every servant who had ever worked in the Oliveburys’ country residence, so that Tommy could pretend to have been briefly employed there in whichever era proved most convenient. But that didn’t mean the London staff weren’t equally aware of the list of names and would realize Tommy wasn’t who she claimed to be.
The hall boy’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t know, ma’am. I’ve never been to Yorkshire.”
Perfect.
“And why would you need to?” Tommy beamed at him. “The ones who do their jobs best are based in London. Which is why we’rehere today—we’ve been instructed to have a look around, so that these two new hires can see how things ought to be done.”
This was almost, but not quite, the dialogue Viv had written. She did not fault Tommy for embellishing at will, however. Chloe had followed Viv’s script to the letter, and it had nearly ruined everything. If the trio hadn’t left so swiftly, Mrs. Olivebury might have insisted the duchess’s servants spend the entire visit right there in the parlor with them, relaxing on cushioned chairs.
“Um,” said the boy, clearly at a loss how to proceed next.
“Now then.” Tommy turned to Viv and Jacob, raising one finger in a stern gesture. “You’re to stay behind me and not touch anything. Up ahead, we have…”
She kept up a steady patter, regurgitating rules their own housekeeper had provided about how often floors should be swept and mopped, and shelves checked for dust.
Nonplussed, the hall boy watched them disappear around the corner, but did not try to stop them.
“He’s gone,” Tommy whispered after a moment. “Hurry.”
They sprinted after her to a closed door at the end of the corridor. Mr. Olivebury’s personal study, from which some unknown object had been purloined. Tommy jiggled the handle.
It was locked.
Viv tried to remember which contingency plan this corresponded with. Five? Three?
Tommy held up a ring of keys and grinned. “Thank you, Marjorie.”
The trio hurried inside the room and shut the door behind them.
“Should we lock it?” Viv asked.
Tommy shook her head. “Too suspicious. This way, if we’re caught inside, we can claim the door was unlocked and we wandered in by mistake.”
Viv glanced around the room. Though she’d never before been in the private study of a representative of Parliament, it looked exactly as she would have written it. Thrice the size of her parlor at home, with large furniture and large windows and a large fireplace, and more shelf space dedicated to bottles of Madeira than to anything resembling paperwork.
If anything looked out of place, it was the three of them.
“I’ll check behind the paintings,” said Tommy.
“Check for what?” asked Viv.
