Spying her, Mrs. Georgie’s eyes opened wide before she silently set down her mug.
“Good afternoon,” Alice said.
Their cook rose to her feet, still staring as if she was seeing a ghost or goblin.
Alice wished she would say something, even if it was to scream at her for ruining the life they had all shared at Stonely GrangebeforeRichard, Lord Fairclough came along.
“My word. Is it you, Lady Alice?” she said at last.
“It is. I hope you will allow me to stay,” she said.
“Allow you?” Mrs. Georgie repeated, furrowing her brow. Then she came around the table and without warning wrapped Alice in a fierce hug.
With that gesture, her tears began to fall. She sobbed until she was entirely wrung out. And the entire time, the cook, smelling faintly of cinnamon, continued to hold her.
“There, there,” Mrs. Georgie soothed.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Alice said at last. Her apology was too small for everything she wanted it to encompass, but at that moment, she was simply apologizing for being a burden on the struggling household.
“Don’t you dare apologize to the likes of me, m’lady.” Mrs. Georgie held her away from her soft round body so she could look into Alice’s face. “You look dead on your feet. Are you hungry, thirsty, or just tired?”
“Yes,” Alice said and managed a wobbly smile. “All three, but if you give me a drink of water, then I shall skip eating until I have slept, assuming there’s a spare bed.”
“Sit down here.” Mrs. Georgie pressed Alice down onto the wooden bench by the well-used maple table. Then she snagged a second cup and filled it from the brown Betty earthenware teapot. It was so customary a sight on their cook’s workspace, Alice nearly started to cry again.
Before pushing the chipped mug toward Alice, Mrs. Georgie added sugar and milk.
“Just the way you like it,” she said.
When a plate of biscuits appeared, Alice shook her head.
“You are being too kind, and you do not have to wait on me.”
“Nonsense. I’m just looking after family, same as I would my Jenny. Stay there and drink the tea. I’ll go find my girl, and we’ll make sure there’s a bed with clean sheets.”
She was halfway out the door when she turned.
“Where are your things?”
“I have a bag in the front hall, but I left my trunk at Mr. Ashley’s.”
“A single trunk?” Mrs. Georgie asked, then shook her head. “Things have certainly changed. I’ll get Henry to hop in his wagon and fetch your trunk from the tavern.”
“Thank you.” Alice could have put her head down on the table and fallen asleep, but she stayed upright, drank the tea, and ate nearly the entire plate of biscuits before the cook returned.
“Come along, m’lady, we’ve made up a bed for you. Not your own, for your pretty four-poster is long gone. I wouldn’t want you to see the state of your old room, anyway.”
Alice didn’t want to see it either, not yet. “I am grateful for any bed I can sleep in at this moment.”
She followed Mrs. Georgie to one of the small guest rooms where every effort had been made to make it comfortable with a simple bed frame and mattress. As promised, there were bleached sheets that looked so inviting, Alice wondered if she would ever rise from them again. A small, painted dresser, probably brought down from the attic, was the only other article of furniture. Without a chair or washstand, it wasn’t even as nice as what she had as a governess at the Beasleys’ home.
“It’s perfect,” she declared, receiving another hug from the cook. Henry appeared at the door with her trunk.
“Thank you. How kind of you to fetch it.”
“Yes, m’lady.” He tugged his hat and disappeared, not used to household duties.
“Can you manage?” Mrs. Georgie asked.
