ChapterOne
Whenever the smellof mince pies and roasted chestnuts filled the air, Mirabel knew that Christmas was just around the corner. Snowflakes pirouetted from the sky, adorning the sooty roofs of London's townhouses with a gossamer white lace, conjuring a sense of glamour, a touch of enchantment that was unique to the season. Eager young boys careened down the icy streets, while little ones hauled sledges up the frozen slopes in the parks. If this bitterly cold weather persisted, it seemed entirely possible that the Thames would freeze over, and a magnificent Frost Fair would be held upon its surface.
The upcoming Christmas season was eagerly anticipated by one and all.
But not by Mira.
Mirabel Taylor was dragging buckets of steaming water, taking out the slops, polishing the silverware, waxing the floors, washing the windows, stoking the fire, clearing the grates, and soaking the laundry in lye.
For Mira was a housemaid at 24 Park Street, Mayfair, at the grand residence of Lord and Lady Cullpepper, and their daughter, Miss Rose Cullpepper.
Since the time before Christmas was one of the busiest of the year in the Cullpepper household, with dinner parties, soirees and routs to prepare, maids like Mira were given no respite. The bell was constantly ringing, and Mira was running, fetching, scrubbing, brushing, dusting, and washing from dawn to dusk.
It was indeed a busy time, this time before Christmas.
Lord Cullpepper'scard party was a great success. He was lauded as a first-class host, who served his guests excellent wine and a superlative dinner, and whose card tables were always decked with brand-new cards. It was well past midnight and into the early hours of the morning when the last guest finally left.
Mira had wiped the tables, swept the floors, cleared the grates, and sprinkled salt on the wine stains on the damask tablecloths.
"If people had to clean up their own spills and were aware of the work it takes to get red wine stains out of snowy white fabric, they'd be more careful when drinking wine," she muttered to herself as she removed the tablecloths and put them in a basket in the laundry room for the maid to tend to in the morning.
Mrs Holt, the housekeeper, took one look at Mira's tired face and pursed her thin lips. "Have you had a morsel to eat yet, Mira?"
Mira wiped a strand of hair away from her forehead. "Not yet, Mrs Holt."
"Then sit down and have some tea. You must take better care of yourself. I can't have another maid falling ill now that both Maggie and Renata are down with the flu. That would be a disaster, especially now." She handed Mira a steaming cup of tea.
"Yes, Mrs Holt. Thank you, Mrs Holt." Mira gratefully accepted the cup and sat at the long, oaken table where the servants dined. Though strict, Mrs Holt was a kind woman who took good care of the servants under her.
"And speaking of Renata," Mrs Holt continued, "we will have to redistribute your duties while she is bedridden. Lady Cullpepper has ordered you to take over her work."
Mira set down her teacup with a clatter. "But Mrs Holt, where will I find the time? Renata is Miss Cullpepper's abigail. I simply do not have the time to be a lady's maid on top of everything else."
She would have to look after Miss Cullpepper's person, dress and undress her, care for her wardrobe; darn, sew and wash out stains from the muslins, fine linen, lace, and silks. All this would have to be done in addition to all her other duties.
"You are to take Renata's place temporarily until she is well again. For the time being, I will hire another to take over your duties, for it is easier to find housemaids than trustworthy abigails. You have stood in for Renata before when she had to take leave to visit her ailing mother. Lady Cullpepper was very pleased with your work then." To Mrs Holt, the matter was decided.
Mira frowned. A lady's maid was expected to dance attendance to her mistress day and night, every day of the week. "But Mrs Holt, you know I cannot do that on weekends. I have a special arrangement with Lady Cullpepper in this regard."
Nothing in the world would induce her to give up her free day, that one day a week that she could spend with Miss Pearson and her little Clare. It had been the condition upon which she'd begun work in the Cullpepper household.
Mrs Holt rubbed her forehead. "I know that, Mira. But we must make the best of the situation here. Christmas is almost upon us, and this season promises to be busier than usual. Starting tomorrow, you will tend to Miss Cullpepper. We will see how things develop from there. There, now. It is late. Finish your tea and go to bed." Mrs Holt got up and retired to her room.
Mira was about to do the same when Emma, Lady Cullpepper's abigail, and Nancy, the head housemaid, entered. They both dropped into chairs and helped themselves to tea and biscuits.
"What madness this is! The entire household has turned upside down. Not just with Lord Cullpepper's card party and the upcoming Christmas celebrations, but with her Ladyship." Emma groaned. Even though she was an upper servant and usually ate with the butler and housekeeper because of her higher rank, she enjoyed gossiping with all the other servants in the household when the housekeeper was out of earshot.
"Tell us, what has happened?" Mira put the teacup in the sink for the scullery maid to wash.
"Has Mrs Holt gone to bed?" Emma turned her head to check that the housekeeper had indeed retired. "Very well, then come closer and hear the latest gossip."
Everyone crowded around the table.
"Her Ladyship intends to drag Miss Cullpepper to every single ball in town," Emma told them. "My lady said, 'Miss Cullpepper will be married before the year is out, so help me God.' I know this for a fact, because I was standing next to her when she said it."
"Poor Miss Cullpepper," muttered Nancy, who'd worked with the Cullpeppers since Miss Cullpepper's birth. "We all know how she hates balls. Why can't they leave her alone, what with her anxiety and fainting spells. She has such a fragile nature, poor child."
"But how is she ever to get married if she doesn't go to balls?" Mrs Bates, the cook, chimed in.
