‘Lucy did not turn up for work today. Not a word of warning—only a hastily written letter of resignation,’ came the reply.
‘That is strange,’ Charlotte said. ‘Lucy seemed quite eager to remain only the other day.’
‘Well, she left this letter in her room, saying she would not be returning.’ Mrs Dent brandished it. Charlotte took it. It was indeed in Lucy’s hand and said precisely as much.
‘And now I must do her duties myself, as all the other maids are occupied with preparations for the house party—as though I have not enough to do already. You would not object if I borrowed Sarah for a few days, until we find a replacement?’
Charlotte glanced at Sarah, who looked horrified at the prospect of being borrowed. She wondered why Mrs Dent had bothered to ask at all when refusal was hardly an option.
‘That is quite all right, Mrs Dent. I can manage on my own with Master Tom for a few days.’
Charlotte resigned herself to spending more time enduring the little devil and sighed inwardly.
Mrs Dent smiled stiffly. ‘That would be most helpful.’
Unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong, Charlotte asked, ‘Does Lucy have any family here?’
‘No. Many of the maids were hired from the workhouse. Lucy was among them.’
Charlotte raised a brow. ‘All of them?’
‘Not all. Only the lower staff. Higher staff, like yourself, are more carefully chosen.’
‘So Lucy is an orphan?’
‘No family has ever claimed her, at least.’ She shrugged her bony shoulder.
‘How strange that she would leave when good work is so hard to come by. She never said a word to me about being unhappy—I cannot imagine her finding a better post.’
‘Goodness, child—unhappy? Why would she be? She had good wages, food, and a roof over her head. There is always a bit of rivalry among the girls, but it is the same everywhere. If you ask me, she has likely run off with some beau.’
‘She did mention something of a beau...’
‘Maids are not permitted romantic entanglements with the staff. If they marry or become pregnant, they must give notice.’
Charlotte looked mildly disapproving. It was a harsh rule, though not uncommon. A pregnant maid would almost certainly be dismissed without a reference. Perhaps that was the reason. Still, she felt a flicker of disappointment that Lucy had not confided in them—or even dropped a hint. But why would she, when they had known each other only a matter of weeks?
Sarah followed Mrs Dent out, though not before casting Charlotte a glare. Charlotte shrugged sheepishly, then took a steadying breath, bracing herself for a full day alone with Tom.
Charlotte readied Tom for bed that evening, a duty Sarah would normally perform. As he lay down, he turned towards her.
‘Where did you come from?’ he asked.
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Uncle said you are like an Indian rubber ball. Made of hard stuff that bounces back. How did you get made?’
Charlotte chuckled, a little flustered—and slightly insulted by the less-than-flattering compliment. ‘Well, Master Tom, rubber balls are made using heat. I suppose I was made from harsh words and ridicule.’
Tom looked thoughtful. ‘You’re not like the others, you know.’
‘You mean the other governesses you scared off?’
He looked sheepish. ‘But you’re still here.’
‘Yes. And I’ll stay until you do not need me anymore.’
Something flickered in his expression—relief, pain, hope.
