A lie would have been easy beneath that disapproving gaze.
What should I say—‘Forgive me, Mrs Thornton, but I am used to having a maid rouse me, or else I sleep till noon because I danced till dawn’? Hardly.
Yet a lie might prove worse if she overslept again. Maggie straightened and met the older woman’s eyes.
“Actually, I do have some trouble waking,” she admitted softly. “I am sorry, and shall do better.”
Mrs Thornton stared at her for a long moment.
“Well, I appreciate your candour,” she said at last. “I shall send Joan to knock at seven each morning. Will that suit?”
Maggie’s heart lifted. “Thank you, Mrs Thornton. That would suit me very well.”
“Hmph. Then dress quickly. I shall return with your schedule. I will instruct the kitchen to hold breakfast fifteen minutes—but no longer, do you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
Mrs Thornton inclined her head and departed down the corridor.
Perhaps she isn’t so bad after all.
Maggie shut the door and dressed in haste. She really could not afford another late start.
***
When the second knock came on the door, Maggie was just pushing the last pin into her hair. She hurried to open, and sure enough, there stood Mrs Thornton. She wordlessly pushed a neat, thick piece of paper into Maggie’s hand.
“Daily Schedule for Miss Emma Hartwell,” Maggie read aloud. “Rise at seven. Breakfast at eight sharp. Lessons at a quarter to nine, continuing until eleven-fifteen, when—‘elevenses will be served.’ From eleven-thirty to twelve-thirty, Miss Emma will take a small sleep. From twelve-thirty—wait, does this mean she takes a nap?”
“That is so, Miss Winter.”
“From half-past eleven to half-past twelve, precisely?”
“His Grace read a treatise extolling the benefits of a short daily nap for children of Miss Emma’s age,” Mrs Thornton explained. “He has incorporated it into her routine.”
“I am sure a nap is beneficial,” Maggie ventured, “but should children not sleep when they are tired, rather than by appointment?”
“Oh? So Miss Emma should decide to be tired at six o’clock, just before her bedtime at half-past eight? Do you think she would then sleep?”
“Well, no, but—”
“What is to stop her from ‘feeling tired’ just before her least-favourite lesson?”
Maggie pressed her lips together. “I only mean that perhaps one cannotschedulesleep. Could you, at seven, have fallen asleep because the clock commanded it?”
Mrs Thornton sighed. “Yes.”
“Oh. Well, I could not.”
“The schedule exists for a reason, Miss Winter. And as we are already late, might we walk and talk?”
“Of course,” Maggie said quickly, colouring.
She followed as they descended the servants’ staircase—broad, well-carpeted, nothing like the perilous narrow steps of lesser houses.
“I don’t mean to be troublesome,” she said after a moment. “I only wish to do what is best for Miss Emma.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Mrs Thornton replied. “Which is why I indulge your suggestions instead of telling you to hold your tongue and do as you’re told.”
