Page 116 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

Sammy set about her tasks carefully, checking, and double-checking. Table laid correctly for breakfast, teapot warming, kettle on, bread sliced the correct width. She could do this. She was doing this.

Then it happened.

A clatter from the pantry. Sammy turned too quickly, knocking the milk jug off the table. It hit the tiled floor with a sharp crash. Valerie appeared in the doorway, as if she’d been waiting for it.

‘Oh,’ Valerie said softly.

Sammy bent quickly. ‘I’m sorry . . . I . . .’ She was still on her knees gathering pieces of crockery when she spotted Magnus’s polished shoes. She rose. He looked at the shards in her hands.

‘Carelessness,’ he said quietly.

‘It was an accident.’

‘Give me that lot before you cut yourself Miss Jenkins. It happens,’ Valerie said gently, holding out her hands for the pieces. ‘Not enough sleep, tricky working the day after a party . . .’

‘Try to be more careful Miss Jenkins.’

Valerie followed Magnus out. But with one hand on the baize door she paused, glancing back at Sammy. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said softly. ‘He won’t dock it from your wages.’

The smell in the housekeeper’s office still reminded Magnus of Mrs Williams – lavender and mothballs. He stopped outside the half-open door. When Mrs Williams left, Valerie had offered to assume the role of housekeeper. ‘On a temporary basis,’ she had said.

Temporary being the important word.

His eyes circled the room, spotting the cardigan hanging on a hook, the framed calendar on the wall. Valerie’s preferred teacup sitting on the desk, Valerie’s cookery books on shelves. A cardboard box on the floor – only half full.

She looked up from the desk, ‘Mr Magnus.’

‘Valerie.’

She smiled pleasantly. ‘Tea?’

‘No thank you.’ He stepped inside closing the door behind him.

Outside, somewhere deeper in the house, he could hear the muted tap of distant footsteps, Miss Jenkins beginning her morning round.

Valerie lowered her gaze, not quite hiding her expression quickly enough.

Triumph. Or something close to it.

‘Miss Jenkins is very young for such a responsible job,’ she said. When Magnus didn’t comment, Valerie continued smoothly, ‘And naturally one worries about standards slipping while she learns.’

Magnus looked around the office. Mrs Williams had managed the household from this room with military precision. Mrs Wood equally well before her. Seasonal menus. Excess produce pickled, or blanched and frozen. Inventories. Guest arrangements planned months in advance. Order had radiated outward from here.

Valerie had maintained that order after Mrs Williams’s departure. Adequately. She was diligent, loyal. But there was a difference between maintaining a system and leading one.

Valerie shifted in her chair. ‘If it would ease matters,’ she said lightly, ‘I could resume some of the broader housekeeping duties.’

‘Resume?’ Magnus said, raising an eyebrow.

‘Only temporarily, of course,’ she added quickly. ‘After all, I did the whole job before Miss Jenkins arrived.’

Magnus clasped his hands behind his back. ‘You were kind to step in during the transition period,’ he said. ‘The house benefited from continuity.’

Valerie inclined her head modestly.

‘However,’ Magnus continued, ‘you were given the title of acting housekeeper for a reason.’

A tiny stillness entered the room. ‘Naturally,’ Valerie said.