“It’s hardly a well-kept secret, Mrs B,” NurseAnn said.
“I suppose we could just say the master tends to have a wandering eye.” Mrs B tried to bediscreet.
Nurse Ann burst out laughing. “Wandering eye? Wandering everything else, too. A few months ago, he was about to marry his secretary. Every girl he ever employed fell out of the pages ofPlayboy.”
“Yes, but they never lasted.” Mrs B said, still loyal.
Joanie snorted. “Because the old man’s temper would drive awaya saint.”
“But didn’t they all stay long enough to receive a nice birthday present?” Nurse Ann asked in her soft Irish accent. “Or Christmas present? Or Easterpresent?”
“From Cartier, from Prada, from Tiffany,” Joanie said with a wicked grin.
Millie had a fleeting memory of the designer lingerie on the woman she’d found in her husband’s bed. She banished the image and tried to focus on Joanie’s story.
“Only last year he had this PA, legs up to her armpits, long blond hair and very short dresses that barely covered her silicone assets. Never said hello to us, but she talked only with him. She finally came downstairs to show off her engagement ring. Mrs B wasin tears.”
“Why?” asked Millie.
“I remembered the first Mrs Du Montfort, she was an angel. Eh,” Mrs B sighed with feeling. “Since she passed away, there’s been a line of gold diggers beating a path to this house, pretending to love theold man.”
“So what happened? Did he marry her?” Millie was curious about the obnoxious but apparently gullible manupstairs.
Mrs B sighed again. “Very nearly. The family lawyer tried advising him against it every day. In the end, he called the master’s son, who rushed here six hours before the wedding and put a stop to it.”
“You should have seen her,” Nurse Ann said. “Crying about how much she loved the old half-paralysed man.”
Joanie took a tea towel from the kitchen counter and pretended to dry her tears as she mimicked wickedly. “Please, sniff-sniff, all I want is, hiccup-sniff, to love and care for the sweetest man Iever met.”
“Until they told her that the sweetest man she ever met,” Nurse Ann said, “could not spend any money or sell any of the estate because it had all been tied upin trust.”
“At which point”—Joanie threw down the tea towel like a piece of rubbish—“the tears magically dried up, the avalanche of blond hair went into a practical ponytail, and the sexy curves were stuffed into a tracksuit. She left on the next ferry. Without even saying goodbye to her so-called fiancé.”
Mrs B shook her head sadly. “I feel sorry for him, I do. That’s when his son and the lawyer put their heads together and took charge of the household.” She looked at Millie. “It was them who recruited you, not theold man.”
Aha, now she understood the “Plain Jane” job advert—the lawyer or the mysterious son. Her eyes travelled around the kitchen to the windows at the end; the sun was setting over a forested hill, orange-and-gold clouds glowed on the horizon. She looked back at the friendly women around the table. Whoever took the decision to employ staff, they’d hardly keep her for long if Du Montfort refused to workwith her.
Just then, a shrill and insistent bell rang. All three women looked at the board. Mrs B rushed out of the kitchen.
Nurse Ann smiled. “There he goes. He’ll be complaining about his dinner now.”
Within minutes, Mrs B returned looking upset. “Joanie, he says he doesn’t want dinner, just a salted caramel fondant, and he wants it right now along with his coffee.”
“Now? It takes thirty minutes to cook a fondant.” Joanie rushed to the fridge and started pulling out ingredients.
Mrs B went to prepare the coffee, and Nurse Ann gave Millie a look that saidWhat did Itell you?
Millie got to her feet. If she didn’t keep this job, it wouldn’t be for lackof trying.
“Let me take him his coffee. By the time he’s finished shouting about that, Joanie will have finished thefondant.”
“Are you sure?” Mrs B didn’t soundconvinced.
“Give me the tray, I’ll take it up,” Millie said with a brave smile.
Coffee tray held in careful hands, Millie climbed the staircase. Whoever had decorated the place had superb taste. The high ceiling, primrose walls and white wood, the two silk-covered chaise longue sofas under the wide, curving staircase all created a sense of opulence and space. The walls were hung with portraits of people in Victorian and Edwardian clothes. Familyancestors?
As she got to the top, she was already out of breath. Anxiety about another interview with the man inside wasn’t helping her cardiovascular performance. In the upstairs hall, an antique polished table looked like a good place to rest the tray for a minute to steady her breathing. She rearranged the tall silver coffee pot and Wedgwood cup and saucer on the tray. Three letters were balanced between the matching creamer and sugar bowl. They’d just arrived with the evening post, and Mrs B had run after Millie, saying, “You’d better take him his post, he hates tomiss it.”
