“You’ll use Mr. Hill’s old bedchamber,” she said to me. “I’d prefer if you didn’t traipse through the house to get to my room for your daily lessons. The less the staff sees you, the better.”
I followed her into a room that held no bed—only dresses, shoes, hats, and other ladies’ accessories.
I’d never seen anything like it—not even in a store.
We moved through the dressing room and into another cavernous bedchamber, this one with dark cream wallpaper and thick, dark woodwork. The ceiling was so high, the room echoed, and a large canopied bed sat in the middle. Red damask drapes fell from a dark wooden frame to the floor.
“I purchased the bed from Versailles,” Mrs. Hill said. “It belonged to King Louis XIV.”
“A king slept in this bed?” I asked in disbelief.
She lifted a shoulder and then went to the window to open the shutters. “This entire room was purchased in France, from the Château de Chantilly, and brought here. The trim, the flooring, even the finials around the lights.” She turned and looked around the room. “It should do for now. After your bath, we’ll discuss our plans. We have so much to accomplish and so little time to do it. I intend to take you to Europe in April or May.”
April was five short months away. Could I be ready to attract a duke by then?
Mrs. Hill left me without another word. I stood in the middle of that large, French room and tried to catch my breath as nerves filled my stomach and made me feel ill.
What had I just agreed to? And how would I tell Uncle Charlie and Aunt Orla what I had done? They’d think I was overreaching my station again—which I was. But how could I say no to this offer? Even now, I wanted to pinch myself. This couldn’t possibly be me. This couldn’t be my life.
I closed my eyes tight and then slowly reopened them—but I was still standing in Mr. Hill’s bedroom, near King Louis XIV’s bed.
A slight knock was followed by the entrance of Mrs. Walker and another maid. This one was a bit older than the one I’d met at the servants’ entrance, perhaps in her early thirties.
“Miss O’Day,” Mrs. Walker said, “this is Deidre Gallagher. She’ll be your lady’s maid.”
Deidre offered a small curtsey at the same time I did—but Deidre paused as she looked at me with a funny stare.
Was I not supposed to curtsey to the staff?
Warmth filled my cheeks.
“I’ll draw a bath for you, miss,” Deidre said as she went through a doorway I had not even noticed yet.
“Brown is assisting Mrs. Hill,” Mrs. Walker said. “She’ll have a gown ready for you when you’re done.”
“Brown?”
“Mrs. Hill’s lady’s maid. They’re referred to by their last name. You’ll call Deidre Gallagher.”
“Gallagher?”
“Yes. And I’m Mrs. Walker and the butler is Higgins. You’ll be meeting the other staff eventually—there are thirty-five of us—but, for now, we’re the only ones you’ll associate with.”
Gallagher, Brown, Higgins. My head spun.
Soon, Gallagher returned to fetch me for my bath.
She led me into a bathroom behind Mrs. Hill’s dressing room, between the two bedchambers. The bathroom was twice as big as our apartment on Mulberry Street, and everything was pristine white. Large windows let in natural light and a massive clawfoot tub sat against one wall.
Steam spiraled from the tub, fogging the mirror and windows.
I had never been in a real bathtub. All my baths had been in the summer months, in the river, where it was cool and refreshing. How hot was this water? Would it scald my skin?
“Let me help you, miss,” Gallagher said as she began to unbutton my dress.
I pulled back, putting my hands up to stop her. “I can undress m’self.”
“Very well,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion.
