“Then a parchment cover will do.”
Margaret waited until the next morning to carry up the cold cream pomatum to Helen’s room. She uncovered the pot and set it on the washstand without comment. She did not want Helen to notice her delivering it and mention it to Mrs. Budgeon, nor to further rouse Fiona’s ire if word got around that Nora had usurped yet another of Betty’s rightful roles. She walked briskly into the dressing room to set it to rights and find a few more hairpins.
Miss Upchurch stirred in her bed, and Margaret guessed Betty would be in any moment to help her dress. Margaret wished Helen would wear something besides the grey, dull gold, and brown day dresses or the dark burgundy evening gown. She ran her fingers over the garments in Helen’s wardrobe, noticing a lovely ivory-and-green walking dress she had never seen Helen wear. On closer inspection she discovered the likely cause: two buttons were missing and the holes themselves were frayed.
Margaret carried the dress into the bedchamber.
Helen, washing her face and hands in the basin, looked up. “Morning, Nora.”
“Morning.” She hesitated. “Miss Upchurch?”
“Hmm?”
“This walking dress is missing a few buttons. Do you mind if I take it and repair it this afternoon?”
“If you wish to.”
“Thank you, I do. Betty and Fiona sew in the afternoons when their other duties are done, and I think I shall join them.”
Helen pressed a hand towel to her face. “Very well.” She lifted the pot of pomatum. “This cold cream smells wonderful. It must be new.”
“Yes.” Margaret quickly changed the subject. “Did your lady’s maid keep a tin of buttons somewhere about?”
“I don’t know. Betty might. If you cannot find any to match, perhaps you might walk into Weavering Street. There is a little shop there where Miss Nash often bought ribbons and buttons and things.” Helen pulled a few coins from the reticule on her dressing table and handed them to Margaret. “You may tell Mrs. Budgeon I sent you.”
“Thank you. If I find we already have spares to suit, I shall return the money.”
Helen waved the assurance away. “I trust you, Nora.”
Margaret hesitated at that remark, looking at Helen to see if she’d realized what she’d said, and if she had meant it. “Do you?” she asked softly.
Slowly, Helen lifted her head and for a moment the two women simply looked at one another. Then Helen said, “Yes. Oddly enough, I find that Ido.”
Margaret’s throat tightened. She whispered, “Thank you.”
Gown over her arm, Margaret turned and walked to the door. When she reached it, Helen added, “Don’t make me regret it.”
That afternoon, Margaret found Fiona and Betty already seated in the sunny attic room that had once been the domain of the lady’s maid before her retirement. It was a spacious room, larger than Betty’s superior room and twice the size of Margaret’s, with a dress form in the corner, an ironing board, bolts of cloth in an open cupboard, a worktable in the center, and a bare bed along one wall.
They stopped talking as soon as she entered, which gave Margaret the uneasy sense they’d been talking about her. She forced a smile. “May I join you?”
Fiona eyed her warily, but Betty answered, “Of course, Nora. Always more mending to be done.”
Fiona’s lip curled. “Looks like she’s brought her own work.”
“I have. Miss Upchurch’s gown is missing a few buttons.”
Betty’s face puckered wistfully. “Asked you to do it, did she?”
Margaret shook her head. “Actually, Miss Upchurch specifically told me to ask you, Betty, if we have a tin of buttons where replacements might be found. She said if anyone would know, it was Betty.”
Betty’s round eyes widened. “Did she, now?”
Margaret nodded. She hoped she would be forgiven the slight exaggeration. Judging by Fiona’s smirk, that seemed unlikely.
Betty rose and hurried over to the cupboard, pulled open a drawer, and extracted a round tin. “Here are the spare buttons. I don’t believe I have seen any what would match those exactly, but... let’s have a look, shall we?”
“Thank you, Betty. Miss Upchurch was right—you were the person to ask.”
