“Thank you.”
“And Cook has already begun making inquiries regarding the oven repairs.”
“Good.”
Mrs. Hill lingered near the doorway.
“You have done well today.”
Margaret gave a faint smile. She did not act in order to receive gratitude, and she hardly received praise from her mother, but it was nice to hear all the same.
“It is only the first week.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Hill said. “And the household has already begun to look to you.”
Margaret lowered her gaze briefly.
“I hope I will not disappoint them.”
“You will,” Mrs. Hill said calmly.
Margaret looked up. She was startled to hear something like that, especially when she had done so well.
“At some point,” the housekeeper clarified. “Everyone does.”
“That is reassuring.”
“It should be,” Mrs. Hill replied, laughing gently. “They will forgive you. You listen to them, and that matters more than you think.”
“Listening is easier than speaking.”
Mrs. Hill’s eyes softened slightly.
“You will find your voice here. We rely on it, after all.”
The door closed gently behind her. Margaret crossed to the window. Ravensmere stretched into the dusk, the lawns fading into shadow. Lamps flickered along the drive. Somewhere beyond the trees, a carriage passed on the distant road. This was her home now. The word felt heavy.
She thought of Nathaniel.
He had been absent most of the day, occupied with estate matters beyond her reach. Their paths crossed briefly before they went to bed, and she could not help but stop him. Before she could, however, he stopped her himself.
“You have been busy,” he said.
“So have you,” she replied.
“Mrs. Hill tells me you have memorized over half the household.”
“I have only asked questions.”
“That is often more effective,” he said.
The staff looked to her with hope. Nathaniel looked at her with something more careful. Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. This time it was one of the younger maids, hovering nervously.
“Yes?” Margaret asked.
“Ma’am,” the girl said, wringing her hands, “I only wished to say… we are grateful.”
“For what?”
