Chapter 4 #2
When he had gone, Miss Fitzjohn gestured to a chair near her own.
Anne sat and surveyed the woman with interest. She had not seen Katherine Fitzjohn in years and only in passing then.
She was three or four years older than Anne and had not associated with local children as her male cousins had, which was only to be expected for a gentlewoman of her station, even if her health had not been “indifferent.” She must be at least thirty now, though she looked younger.
Her dark hair hung in a listless knot at the back of her head and her pale complexion lacked brilliancy, yet her big brown eyes shone with intelligence.
Anne thought she was rather attractive up close with her long-lashed eyes, arched brows, and thin bell-shaped nose.
Miss Fitzjohn began, “It will be nice to have another woman about the place. There used to be more but they seem to have disappeared one by one. First, I had to dismiss our longtime lady’s maid.
And then the doctor’s former nurse decided to retire.
We used to have a housekeeper as well, but now Mrs. Pratt struggles along as cook-housekeeper in one. Thankfully we still have old Buxton.”
“You . . . had to dismiss the lady’s maid? Why?” Anne asked, hoping to avoid a similar fate.
“Yes. Martine attended both Mamma and me, but in truth, she was devoted only to Mamma. Quite a fierce watchdog. I discovered she was stealing from us. Trifles mostly. Hair pins, thread, fabric. Then one day I sent her to the shops for a new powder box and a bottle of Gowland’s lotion.
When she returned she gave me less change than I was due, as I had verified the prices the previous day.
It was only a few shillings, but Mamma agreed we had to let her go. ”
“I see.”
“And I was sorry when Mrs. Horlick gave notice, but really . . . it was time. A kindhearted soul to be sure, but rather ancient and domineering. Telling us all what to do, even Mamma. ‘Keep the windows closed. Don’t serve her tea too hot. No spicy or rich foods. Candles snuffed by ten.’ All wisdom from her many years of nursing, I don’t doubt, but she was nearly tyrannical some days.
And you know, we can only have one tyrant in the house at a time! ”
Miss Fitzjohn chuckled, dark eyes alight.
“Even Mamma grew tired of her managing ways. All that to say, I would not try too hard to emulate your predecessor in that respect.” She fiddled with the doily on the arm of the chair before looking up once more.
“You assisted your father, I believe Dr. Marsland said?”
“Yes, he practices near Gloucester.”
“The surgeon here is Mr. Humpage. Decent fellow.” Miss Fitzjohn twisted her lips to one side, then asked, “And what did Mamma say about your arrival?”
“That she is not an invalid, and rumors of her near-demise have been greatly exaggerated.”
Miss Fitzjohn laughed. “Sounds like Mamma. She has spirit, I’ll give her that. I wish I had a small portion of hers.”
Anne noticed no lack of spirit in the daughter but refrained from comment.
“And have you met our new lady’s maid?” Miss Fitzjohn asked.
“No. Not yet.”
Katherine nodded. “A pretty young thing. Neat and clean in her person. Little experience, but Mamma liked her and decided to engage her. She likes having pretty young people around her. Which is why she rarely seeks out my company!” Miss Fitzjohn gave a forced laugh.
“Rosa is supposed to assist me as well, but I rarely see her. I don’t make a fuss.
I am through competing for attention—from Mamma or ladies’ maids. ”
Anne had no idea what to say to that. Miss Fitzjohn tilted her head to one side, then added, “Odd, though. We had not yet advertised for a new lady’s maid when Rosa wrote to ask if there was a position available at Painswick Court.”
“How . . . fortuitous.”
“I hope so. She listed only one reference. I wanted to wait until we had written to this former employer to verify her character, but Mamma engaged her on the spot. Oh well. Mamma is pleased with her so far.”
“Well, I’m sure I shall meet her soon.” Anne rose. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to return to Yew Cottage for my things, but I shall return soon.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Katherine Fitzjohn waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t let me stop you. Mamma must not be kept waiting.”
Anne let herself out of the house, walked back through the avenue of trees to the door in the wall that led to St. Mary’s, and crossed the graveyard.
Reaching Yew Cottage, she told Miss Lotty about the meeting and Lady Celia’s willingness for her to step in as nurse.
Then she went upstairs to pack her valise and medicine case.
Anne left her trunk and some of her belongings in the guest room, almost as a promise to herself that she would be returning—a reassuring reminder that she was not being ousted from her room yet again.
Going back downstairs, she asked Miss Newland, “Are you sure you don’t mind me going?”
“No, my dear. Dinah is here and Ursula promises to visit more often while you’re gone. And . . .” She bit her lip before continuing. “I have a confession to make. When I wrote to you about someone in Painswick needing your help, it was Lady Celia I had in mind. I had not yet injured my ankle.”
Surprise washed over Anne. “Oh?”
Lotty nodded. “Mrs. Horlick had told me she was retiring, and I knew how much you enjoy helping others, and the skills you’ve developed assisting your father.
But when you arrived and found me laid up, you assumed .
. . Well, I should have corrected you then.
I’m sorry I was not completely forthright with you. ”
Anne considered. “I understand. And you were right. I would have been reluctant to come had I known in advance. No wonder you didn’t specify a name.”
Again Lotty nodded. “But if Lady Celia bullies you, you need not stay long.”
“I shall try not to let her sharp tongue bother me.” Anne hesitated, then said, “I left a few of my things upstairs. If you prefer I take everything, should you need the room for someone else, I—”
“No, my dear. Leave whatever you like. The room shall be ready and waiting for you when you return.”
Anne pressed Lotty’s hand. “Thank you.”
“Now, will you write to your father to let him know of your change of situation, or shall I?”
A short while later, Anne returned to Painswick Court and carried her valise and case inside.
A housemaid in mobcap and apron met her. “Miss Loveday, is it?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m to show you where you’ll be sleeping, if you’ll follow me.”
“Thank you. And your name is . . . ?”
“Jane.”
“Thank you, Jane.”
At the top of the stairs, the girl rounded the newel post and walked to the door left of Lady Celia’s. “This was Sir Herbert’s bedchamber,” Jane explained. “You can reach his dressing room from here, or through Lady Celia’s bedchamber.”
As they passed through a dim, shuttered room, Anne made out a large bedstead with curtains drawn, massive armoire, and washstand.
Jane opened a door on the right, which led into a narrow room with built-in drawers and shelves on one side, and a berth-like bed on the other. One small window above the bed allowed in light.
“Lady Celia has a commode chair in her dressing room, but there’s not one for this room. You can use the water closet on this floor or the privy outside.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’ve put fresh linens on the bed and brought up water and towels.” She pointed to a basin and pitcher on the top shelf. “Anything else you need, just let me know.”
“Thank you, I shall.”
Anne stowed her valise and medicine case, set her bonnet and gloves on a shelf, and after a soft knock, let herself into Lady Celia’s room.
“Oh! You gave me a start.” Lady Celia pressed a hand to her chest.
“Sorry.”
“No, no. It’s good to see that door open. It’s been too long.” She turned toward the opposite dressing room and called, “Rosa? Rosa! Oh, where is that girl?”
“Rosa is your lady’s maid, I believe?”
“Yes. I don’t like calling ladies’ maids by their surnames. Especially hers. Stark. Awful. Rosa!”
“Here I am, my lady.”
In walked a slender young woman who moved with grace and possessed an ethereal beauty.
Golden-blond hair had been expertly pinned atop her head and perfect ringlets framed an angelic face with wide-set blue eyes, brows a shade darker than her hair, and full lips with a small birthmark beside them.
She was dressed demurely in a modest sprigged muslin day dress and carried a shawl over her arm.
If she were more than nineteen or twenty years of age, Anne would be very much surprised.
“I was pressing your silk shawl and had to be most careful.”
“You did not scorch it, I trust.”
“I did not.”
“Let me see it. . . .” Lady Celia fingered the fine fabric. “Passably done.” She gestured toward Anne. “This is Miss Loveday, come to torture me.”
Rosa laughed, a sweet musical sound. “I very much doubt that, my lady.” She glanced from her mistress to Anne, eyes shining. “She does not look so fearsome to me.”
“Dr. Marsland asked me to step in as chamber nurse, until another might be found.”
“It is not your usual occupation?” Rosa asked.
“No. Although I worked alongside my father for years. He’s a surgeon-apothecary.”
“It is very kind of you to step in.”
Rosa smiled, and Anne saw with some relief that while her teeth were white and pretty, a few of them were not quite straight. The slight imperfection made the young woman more human and likable in Anne’s view. Perfection would have been difficult to countenance.
“Thank you,” Anne replied. “I like to be useful.”
“So do I.”
“Then why don’t you two stop babbling and do something useful already?”
“Yes, my lady,” the two replied in unison.
With another smile, Rosa turned to her. “Come, Miss Loveday, I shall show you the dressing room, should you need anything in there, and where the water closet is. And perhaps the kitchen too?”
“Thank you.”
“We shall be back soon, my lady.”
The woman harrumphed. “Oh, don’t mind me.”
Rosa led her into the adjoining dressing room. “Here is where I spend much of my time, sewing and caring for Lady Celia’s clothes.”
The room was crowded with deep shelves for bandboxes, a clothes press with built-in gown drawers, and a dressing table. There was also a chair, sofa, washstand, hip bath, and tall mirror. And on the far side, a door stood open to a small closet-like room where the lady’s maid slept on a narrow cot.
Rosa lifted the lid of the hidden commode chair, explaining, “Lady Celia uses this. When she is feeling weak or wobbly, I take her arm to help her over. She insists the exercise does her good and wants to avoid the indignity of a bedpan for as long as possible.”
“I understand and will help her as well.”
Rosa opened the dressing room’s outer door and guided Anne along the side passage to the water closet. She then led the way to the main floor and down a second flight of stairs to the kitchen. There she pointed out a pass-through window.
“Lady Celia will be wanting her luncheon soon, and here is where you shall retrieve her trays.”
Rosa introduced Anne to the cook-housekeeper, Mrs. Pratt, as “Miss Loveday, Lady Celia’s new nurse.”
Anne smiled awkwardly in reply. She was a long way from being accustomed to the title or to finding herself in that role—a role she had little wish to take on after the death of her most beloved patient of all. A death she might have prevented.