The dowager stared at her through her quizzing glass. “Why the devil are you parading about in servants’ garb, Lucy Bell?”
Arabella giggled. “It’s one of her pranks—she does this all the time, Grandmamma.”
The dowager sniffed. “Does she, now? Somehow this fails to impress me.”
“You won’t believe what we did back in Bath. Once she dressed up as one of our instructresses complete with grey wig and spectacles, and led an entire class in front of the headmistress, who never noticed until half an hour passed.”
“But only because I made a silly but colossal mistake. I placed Balochistan in China when sketching out the map, which was entirely wrong. The headmistress noticed and fired me on the spot. Until she realised who I was.”
“And where, pray, would you place Balochistan now?” The old woman looked unamused at her antics.
“Why, in Persia, of course.”
“It says a lot about this headmistress’ intelligence if it took her half an hour to uncover your identity, even though she knew the more precise location of Balochistan. That school in Bath can’t have been any good. None of this accounts for your unorthodox garb. Explain!”
She told the story of the broken coach, lost luggage and skipped the part of meeting Henry.
“This was not meant to be a schoolgirl’s trick at all, Your Grace. I apologise for my appearance. It was a misunderstanding. My travel dress wasn’t—let’s say, it’s not presentable. I daresay Mrs Blake mistook me for a servant, and she assigned me some tasks to do about the house.”
“And it never occurred to you to reveal your identity as a guest.”
“Er, no. I admit I was rather curious about discovering all about the life of a servant below stairs.”
“And? Was it amusing? To clear out chamber pots?” There was a gleam of interest in the matron’s slate-grey eyes.
“Thank heaven I didn’t have to do that. I cleared out some fireplaces, though. I had no idea they harbour so much soot!”
Arabella looked disconcerted. “Clear out fireplaces! How can that be possible! I am terriblyashamed our housekeeper is incapable of distinguishing servants from guests. To treat my dearest friend so! Mistake her for a servant! Lucy, I’m so sorry. I shall have a word with Ash about this.”
“No! Arabella, no one is to get in trouble over this, least of all Mrs Bates. I insist. It’s not her fault!”
“Fiddlesticks! Don’t go pestering Ashmore, he’s got more important things to worry about. The woman’s been hired to select our staff with discretion. She’s failed at judging people’s characters. Be that as may.” The dowager rammed her cane into the floor. “I want my tea now!”
“Here, let me pour, Grandmamma.” Arabella poured water over the tea leaves and let it steep. She gave Lucy a teacup.
The dowager downed it with one gulp. “Bah, the stuff is terrible. Send for a fresh pot.”
Arabella rang the bell.
Meg must have waited outside, for she appeared quickly. Her eyes grew to round saucers when he saw the tea tray and Lucy sitting next to Lady Arabella on the chaise longue.
“A pot of fresh water and the housekeeper,” the dowager ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.” Meg took another shocked look at Lucy before she left the room.
“Her name is Meg,” Lucy said in between two sips of her own cup of tea. The older woman was right. The tea tasted hideous.
“Excuse me?” The dowager turned her cold, haughty eyes towards Lucy.
“They dohave names, you know, Your Grace.”
Lady Augusta raised her quizzing glass and stared at Lucy, which would have terrified any lesser mortal, but Lucy with no little effort of stoicism pretended nothing was wrong and forced herself to swallow the detestable brew.
“Well!” The dowager was never left speechless.
“Lucy is like that, Grandmamma. She tends to speak up for the servants. She used to lecture us back at the Seminary that we’re to treat our maidservants well. She is right.”
“How extraordinary. Are you a revolutionary, Miss Bell?”
