Chapter 4 #2
“No, I just bet it doesn’t, especially if it’s a man,” Tilly said, folding the papers back along their original creases.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Wilson, but we do not discriminate—”
“Oh yes, you do.” She looked at him. This was not his fault. She knew that. He was just a man doing a job. “Thank you, Mr. Hartley. The board will have my response in due course.” She then looked at the papers again. “Where is the list of things I must improve?”
He hesitated briefly, and his eyes moved slightly to the right. “It’s there on the third page. Good day to you, Miss Wilson.” He touched the brim of the hat Tilly noted he had not removed in her presence and turned back down the front steps.
Tilly stood in the doorway a moment after he had gone, watching him leave, the folded notice in her hand.
She’d known, of course, that some were angry about her club, but she’d been naive enough to believe they’d leave her alone once it was open.
She retreated inside and closed the door quietly, then went back to her office to place the papers on her desk. Tilly would deal with them later. Right now she was going downstairs to the lower floors to check all was well in the kitchen.
The club was still in its infancy, and she knew they would have problems and things to work through, but Tilly had high hopes and dreams, and she was going to fulfil every one.
No one was stopping that from happening.
If she weren’t to wed and have a family, she’d have the best women’s club in London, and no man was taking that from her.
She’d fight anyone who tried to stop her.
Descending the stairs with a lamp, as there was nothing to light the way, she found the cook up to her elbows in a bowl. Beside her were two young girls washing dishes.
“Everything all right, Pansy?” While she didn’t hire the woman because of her floral name, it certainly had helped, as had the sweet biscuits she’d baked for Tilly and Violet to try.
“All is well, Miss Wilson, I’m just making some scones.”
“Wonderful. At this early stage of proceedings, we don’t have a firm idea on what will be needed, so I thank you for understanding that.”
In direct contrast to her name, Pansy had a face that could stop ten oxen toeing a cart full of barrels. Her lips seemed always pressed into a hard line, and Tilly had yet to see her smile.
“We’ll be right, Miss Wilson. Between us, we’ll make it work. It’s a right good thing you’ve done here, giving those women up there a place to be themselves.”
“Thank you, Pansy. I am very grateful to you for those words,” she said solemnly. “Now we have quite a few ladies in the club today, so I’ll get you to organize some tea, and if Betsy and Robyn could deliver it, I would be most grateful. Plus anything you have on hand for them to eat.”
“I’ve an apple cake, and some scones already in the oven. I’ll get a tray up to them shortly.”
She needed to hire a couple more maids, Tilly thought. Hopefully, Ruby could fill in there.
“I’m just going to have a look in those last two rooms, as Margaret needs one as her office.”
Members. The Iris Club had members. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through her.
“Right you are, and we’ll get that tea tray upstairs,” Pansy said.
Tilly’s father had said that the trick to having staff was treating them with kindness and always being fair. Just because someone is lucky enough to be born with extreme wealth does not make them any better than someone who was not, he said.
Leaving the kitchen, she went down the hallway and opened the first door.
Not large, but big enough for a desk and a chair for Margaret.
There was also a bookshelf against the far wall.
As yet, she had not cleaned the room, but that wouldn’t take long.
After setting the lamp onto the desk, Tilly went to the shelves and studied the titles.
Most were in Latin. She pulled out the first volume and opened it, but as her Latin was adequate at best, she could only make out a few words without sitting down and really working at it.
Tilly tucked it under her arm and pulled out the next one.
Violet could understood Latin, so perhaps she would like to read them. The next book was Latin also, but the fourth was another language. Tilly had no idea what it was.
Looking through the space where the books used to be, she saw something behind it.
Tilly stacked her books onto the desk, then took out four more and saw it was some kind of statue—a bronze cross with a large rose painted in the center.
Reaching through to grab it, she discovered there was something attached to it.
After removing more books, she found the statue was fixed to a wooden paneled door. Tilly tried pulling the cross but it didn’t budge. Running her fingers over it, she encountered a hook-like shape at the back. Tilly wiggled it until it moved, then watched as the panel swung open.
There were still shelves blocking the way, so after removing all the books, she then searched for another lever and found it under the lowest shelf. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she watched it swing open.
What was in there, and did she want to go in and find out?
“This is your club, Matilda, so you must.”
After the lecture, Tilly picked up the lamp, then stepped through the opening.
The walls were close on both sides, which wasn’t comfortable, but it was the prospect of thick ropes of cobwebs that bothered her the most. She loathed them. Raising the lamp, she walked down the narrow passage. Upon reaching the end, Tilly came to two sets of stairs. One went up, the other down.
“Up,” she decided and began the climb. At the top, she came to a small wooden platform and another door.
She had no wish to terrify whoever, if anyone, was on the other side, so she tapped softly. There was no reply, so Tilly knocked louder. Still nothing.
The door had a bolt. Lowering the lamp, she attempted to move it, but it was rusted and stuck. She set the lamp down, and, using both hands, Tilly tugged harder. It suddenly made a screeching noise and slid.
With her heart thudding hard inside her chest, Tilly grabbed the handle and was about to turn it when it started moving.
Snatching hers back, she thought about fleeing, and then it opened, and a familiar, unwelcome face was staring back at her.
“What the bloody hell are you doing in there?”