“I don’t understand,” Alice said. The cook’s meaning escaped her, and it must be due to her tiredness.
“Undressing and all,” Mrs. Georgie said, looking chagrinned.
Alice nearly laughed, but she realized the woman was serious. She had never seen Alice make do for herself.
“Oh, Mrs. Georgie. I haven’t had a lady’s maid for going on two years.”
“Truly?” the woman exclaimed, eyes widening. “Imagine that!”
Alice did chuckle that time. “It’s true. Just like you and Jenny and most every other woman in the world except the very few, I can undress and put myself to bed.”
Mrs. Georgie laughed, too. “I guess you can, m’lady, and good for you.”
With that, she departed.
Alice hoped she hadn’t destroyed some long-held belief of the cook that the titled class were helpless creatures because fromwhat she’d seen, for the most part, that was true. But when forced to fend for herself, she, at least, had done so and quite well.
And that was the last coherent thought her weary brain put together. She took off her shoes, hat, and gloves, and stretched out on the lumpy mattress. It felt like the height of luxury. And then, she knew no more.
Chapter Twelve
Alice was enjoying her fourth day of being home. Settled into a routine with the help and permission of Mrs. Georgie, Jenny, Henry, and a few others who made up the household, she had been accepted into their midst. She ate what they ate and where they ate it, which turned out to be in the formal dining room because they still thought it to be an exciting lark.
The gorgeous mahogany table that had been there all Alice’s life had been sold, along with the crystal chandelier. But Henry and one of his grandsons, who helped provide food for the household, had crafted a new table from barn boards. With a lace tablecloth over it, it served the purpose well. With the mismatched chairs, enough for all of them, Alice thought it a merry group.
While her parents’ former staff wouldn’t let her clean, do laundry, or even beat the few remaining carpets, they let her exercise the two old horses, help in the gardens, and even assist in the kitchen.
By Mrs. Georgie’s side, Alice snapped the ends off the runner beans and peeled potatoes, grateful they had food. She hadn’t yet needed to delve into her meager savings. No one had asked her for back wages, for which she was exceedingly grateful.
Henry’s grandson, Bert, a tall youth of eighteen, burst in through the kitchen’s back door, leading to the herb garden.
“You made me jump,” Mrs. Georgie said. “If you do it again, I’ll take my ladle to your backside. See if I don’t.”
“Sorry,” Bert mumbled. Today, he didn’t do what he usually did, which was scan the room for Jenny. Instead, he said excitedly, “We have a visitor!”
Mrs. Georgie looked at Alice, probably thinking the last thing they needed was another mouth to feed.
“Shall I see who it is?” Alice offered.
“It’syourhome, m’lady.” She said it without animosity, as if Alice had become the hostess the moment she’d arrived back at Stonely Grange.
“Very well.” After wiping her hands upon her apron, Alice turned to Bert. “Where is our guest?”
“A carriage drove into the stable yard, and Granddad told me to fetch someone. Looks to belong to a right nob, m’lady, if you’ll excuse my saying the word.”
Alice nodded and went to go out the same door the lad had come through.
“No, m’lady, Granddad said he’d send the snout-nose to the main entrance, if you’ll excuse my saying the word.”
“Why don’t you stop saying such things, then?” Mrs. Georgie berated, and Bert dipped his head.
“It’s no matter,” Alice said, “but I’ll go out back and intercept our guest. Seems a bit silly to stand on ceremony when there are no chairs in which to be seated afterward.”
Mrs. Georgie chuckled. “You have the right of it, m’lady.”
Alice had her fingers on the door handle when the cook stopped her.
“Your apron,” Mrs. George reminded her. “You aren’t the hired help.”
