Tess was not so sure. Susan might be impressed with the idea, but Tess knew perfectly well that she would need to be a great deal cleverer to find any secret hiding places in the house. One could not drink tea in the drawing room with the lady of the house, and immediately institute a search for hidden treasure. There had to be a better way than simply befriending the widow.What was her name? Mayberry. Mrs Mayberry of Apstead House.
“Your aunt will play the game?” Tess said anxiously. Miss Bullock was a lax chaperon, but there was no saying when she might choose to exert her authority.
“Oh, yes. She is used to you, and she is too much in awe of you ever to try to stop you.”
“Good. I have told Mama that I will be gone for a few days, but she knows my ways and will not worry about me if it is longer. If anyone should come looking for me, you need only say that I stayed a while and then went on elsewhere, but you do not know where. I had better send Harold to buy seats for us on the coach. With luck, we may be away this afternoon.”
“I wish you could stay longer,” Susan said wistfully. “It’s not that I mind helping but we have such fun when you stay here properly, not just pretending.”
“With luck, I shall be back in a week or so, and we can have fun then,” Tess said. “But I must find my fortune, you do see that?”
“Oh, yes, of course! It is quite shocking that your lawyers cannot find it themselves, but I am sure you will manage it, and then you will be rich, won’t you?”
“Rich and independent,” Tess said with satisfaction.
With coach tickets obtained, Tess changed into the drab old clothes she kept for her adventures. She had only a small portmanteau, filled with more drab clothes, and a few coins in her reticule, but three purses of money were hidden away on her person. She may have been pretending to be poor, but she had no intention of actually being so, and there was no knowing when she might need to lay out her blunt in a hurry.
The common stage coach was always an adventure to Tess. Harold sat on top, as usual, but Tess and Betty shared the inside with an attorney, a severe looking widow with a snappy dog, agirl travelling to Scarborough to take up a position as a maid and a cage full of ducklings. The widow unbent sufficiently to offer the new maid some advice about working hard and avoiding single gentlemen. The maid said nothing beyond‘Yes, ma’am’and‘No, ma’am’, but the exchange gave Tess an idea.
“Housemaids!” she hissed in Betty’s ear as they descended from the coach at Pickering.
“What?” Betty said. “What do we want housemaids for?”
“No, we do not want them. We shallbehousemaids. Mrs — the widow in question — must need servants, surely.”
“You, a housemaid?” Betty said. “That I’d pay good money to see.”
“Well, how hard can it be?” Tess said. “Nothing but flicking a duster about.”
Betty only laughed.
It being quite late in the day now, Tess sent Harold to procure rooms for them at the inn where they had arrived, not having much interest in finding anywhere better. They took dinner in the common room, and then set out to find Apstead House. It was not a very prepossessing place, just a modest house in a line of similar houses, except for a certain air of neglect. The gardens were in good order, but the rest of the house had not seen fresh paint for some years, windows were cracked and the one smoking chimney, no doubt from the kitchen, billowed forth dark clouds.
Tess walked past once, turned at the end of the road and then walked past again. “Mrs Widow definitely needs a housemaid or two.”
“And a footman?” Harold said hopefully.
“Unlikely,” Tess said. “A widow is likely to keep an all-female household. But we can find out. Harold, go and ring the front door and ask if Mr Smith is at home.”
“There is no Mr Smith there,” he said, puzzled.
“Of course not,” she said impatiently. “You will be told that and then you apologise and say that you must have mistaken the house. But we wish to see who answers the door — a butler or footman, or a housekeeper or maid. Do you see?”
Belatedly, he did. Tess and Betty stayed out of sight behind a neighbour’s high hedge until he returned. “Housekeeper,” he said. “Very starchy one, too. Looked down her nose at me. I don’t look like a footman, do I? I’m not in livery.”
“No, but you do not look like a gentleman, either. But there you are, Harold. The widow will not want a footman. What did the hall look like?”
“Um… like any hall.”
“Shining furniture? Smell of beeswax polish? Fresh flowers on display?”
“Oh — no, dust everywhere. Smelt fusty, like damp clothes.”
“Aha!” Tess said. “Then she definitely needs maids.”
“We need to find out how folk get their servants here,” Betty said. “It might be all word of mouth, or it might be done at the market, but there could be a registry.”
“We can ask at the inn,” Tess said happily.
