“You look weary, Mrs. Linder. Will you have a spot of tea?” Anna Potter, Winny’s daughter, cared for the house and children while both her parents worked for Douglas Marsh. At sixteen, she had the competent air of a much older woman and more insight than most. Tea leaves at the Potters were used at least twice and the tea lacked the strength that her mother preferred, but it was served with kindness, and Esther couldn’t resist. She sank into a hard wooden chair and gave in to the need to rest her elbow on the table with her head on her hand.
After a few restorative sips, she sat up a bit straighter and remembered her dilemma. “Do you think your mother could keep Dougie this evening?”
“Are you walking out, Mrs. Linder?” Anna asked with a bright smile.
“Goodness no; I’m working.”
“The Valentine’s Day Ball is tonight, isn’t it? The whole town knows. My friend Mirabelle plans to stand on the street and watch the folks arrive. She likes to see the lady’s gowns.” Her expression turned rueful. “Mirabelle is a bit of a ninny,” she added. “It might be lovely to hear the music and see the folks, though.”
Esther smiled at her enthusiasm. “It might at that. I’ve been assured I’ll hear the music.”Even if I have to duck and hide. “Do you think your mother will mind?”
“Mind what?” Winny Potter bustled in, smiled at Esther, and waved a hand at the kettle. “Pour me a bit of that, there’s my angel,” she said before plopping down across from Esther, who explained the sudden demand that she work during the ball.
“Working you to death, are they? I thought you had some clerical duty or other. How can they expect you in the kitchen? You don’t belong with the scullery maids.”
“I’m an employee, Winny. I do whatever is needed. I don’t mind work.”
Winny sat back and studied Esther shrewdly. “What do you mind, then, dearie? Because something is bothering you; I can see it in your eyes.”
Esther’s chin rose, and a denial rose to her tongue. Winny raised a brow, and Esther swallowed her story. She let out a breath.
“I’m a good listener,” Winny said, glancing up at her daughter.
Anna sat down, drawing a frown from her mother. “I’m not a baby, Mam. Whatever bothers our Esther, I can hear.”
Our Estherdid it. She told them about Fowler, the maids, and his innuendo. “I need the work, Winny. I can’t walk away. I’ll have to manage him.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
Esther shrugged. “Avoid dark corners. Stay around other people.”
“Can you just tell the Master of Ceremonies?” Anna asked.
“Tell him what? That Fowler makes me nervous? He’ll laugh at me. Even if he—” She glanced at Anna and back at Winny. “Even if that toad Fowler does his worst, who would believe me?”
Winny nodded sympathetically. She peered over at her daughter. “A man with power over a woman can be a villain, Anna. That sort knows when a woman has few choices.”
“Lucky you work for Sergeant Marsh, Mam,” Anna said.
Her mother beamed. “I’m glad you understand not all men are villains. Your papa, Dougie Marsh… There are many good men; you just watch yourself around the others.”
The women shared a moment of quiet consensus on that score, sipping their tea in full accord, before Anna frowned and piped up. “But what if the villain does his worst?”
“If it comes down to that, I will injure his tender parts and throw myself on the charity of my friends,” Esther replied, attempting levity.Pray God it doesn’t come to that. “Never fear, Anna, I will manage fine,” she said; she just wished she believed it.
* * *
Doug stood in the shadows across from the Assembly Rooms and watched as the line of bearers carrying sedan chairs thinned. Ever the preferred method of transportation for matrons in hilly Bath, it never failed to strike him as effete. He thought of Peter Spratly’s cheerful agreement to bring him here in the trap and come back for him. The man refused to be paid; Doug would have to make it up to him. For now, he leaned on his cane and watched as footmen assisted ladies, arrayed in glittering gowns and festooned with jewels, to the pavement and handed them with their escorts to the major domo who examined tickets and bowed them in.
Winny had insisted Esther would be here, but, of course, she wouldn’t be working the door. Something felt off about the whole thing. Why would Fowler need the subscription lady during the ball? She didn’t belong in the kitchen, no matter how willing to work Esther seemed to be. It just didn’t sit well with Doug. Something had bothered Winny as well. Why else would she have come to him? Winny wouldn’t—or couldn’t—be specific. Images of camp followers and the affronts to which they were subjected haunted him.
He pondered his options.I came to make sure the lighting is as expected… The words didn’t sound particularly logical, but he could think of no other excuse. It took him twenty minutes to make his lumbering way to the tradesmen’s entrance at the back of the building where the door sat ajar and light fell onto the cobbles on the narrow lane, illuminating his way. He grimaced at the tallow candles in the passageway. For what whales’ candles saved them, they could afford better for staff.
Doug let his eyes adjust to the yellow light and peered into the first door, the one to the caterers’ kitchen. Tables crowded together in front of an army of workers filled it. A harried footman shouldered past him, forcing Doug deeper into the room; two more followed. Empty trays came in and trays of drink went out. Cooks’ assistants arranged canapés on others. A frowning cook paced between rows of workers watching for mistakes. Esther wasn’t among them.
The footman he had spoken to that morning bustled out with a tray of wine glasses on his shoulder. “Yer candles are in the storage, Mr. Marsh. Arrived all right and tight. It’s across the way,” he said over his shoulder. Doug already knew that; Peter made the delivery and reported back.
Won’t hurt to check on how they’re being cared for. It would justify his appearance, butacross the waymeant across the street in the icehouse where they stored perishables. He crossed the hall instead, pretending he didn’t know that, and opened a door to find three women washing glasses to be sent across to the kitchen. No Esther. He backed out and limped down the hall.
