“And the children?” Georgette said and immediately wished she had not.
She knew that she had given the butler the upper hand by letting him know that she did not relish the idea of isolation.
“They shall eat with the nurse, obviously. They do not take meals with His Grace.” Again, he spoke to her in a manner which suggested he thought her entirely stupid.
“Indeed,” Georgette said flatly and turned to walk out of the servants’ hall.
“Down here,” the butler said, hurrying to overtake her, clearly wrong-footed by the fact that he had been forced to follow her and not the other way around. “At the very end of this particular corridor, you will find the servants’ quarters. Most of the servants sleep down here with just a few in attic rooms. Of course, the ones who do sleep in attic rooms are on the east side of the building, whereas you yourself shall be on the west.”
“Of course,” Georgette said, choosing not to rise to his provocation any more.
So, she would be eating alone, sitting alone night after night in an attic room set far apart from any others and devoid of any human contact save for that of her small charges and possibly the nurse. Well, it was simply something that she would have to get used to and, if she could not, then the butler would be the very last person to hear about it.
“So, now that you know where everything is, I shall return to my own duties and leave you to make your way to the housekeeper’s room for further instruction,” he said and, with a curt nod, turned to stride away from her.
For a moment, Georgette’s heart began to thud. She had wanted to tell the pompous Mr Pearson that she had absolutely no idea how to find her way back to the housekeeper’s room. Her tour of below stairs had been speedy and very far from methodical, an approach which she felt to have been entirely purposeful.
Clearly, the butler had wanted to make a fool of her. He had wanted her to run after him and admit that she could not quite remember where the housekeeper’s room was. Well, he would have a long wait if he thought that that was going to happen. Taking a deep breath and, not the first time that day, straightening her spine, Georgette strode back along the corridor in the hope that she would very soon recognize the door to the housekeeper’s room. Of course, to her, all of the doors looked the same.
After just a few minutes, Georgette’s resolve had dissipated entirely. She seemed to continually pass maids and smartly dressed male servants, all of whom kept their eyes focused firmly on the gray flagstones as they passed her. Not one of them would look in her direction, not even to nod a silent greeting.
Finally, she saw the smartly liveried uniform of the footman who had helped to carry in her large wooden trunk. Feeling a little relieved, she smiled and approached him.
“Would you be so kind as to show me where the housekeeper’s room is?” Georgette said as he regarded her coolly.
“It is that way,” he said with the vaguest nod of his head before turning and walking away.
None the wiser, Georgette let out a great sigh. What a hateful household this was. Did not one of them below stairs have the presence of mind to act on their own accord and not simply be spiteful upon demand?
Well, if that were as much as she could expect from her fellow employees, Georgette would be pleased to eat alone and have nothing to do with them. Feeling antagonized made her feel suddenly purposeful also, and she began to stride through the corridors, pushing doors open and looking inside without a moment’s apology to whomever she found within.
Finally, using just such an approach, she located the housekeeper’s room.
“Mrs Griffin, Mr Pearson has sent me back to you,” Georgette said with a level voice.
“Yes, I am to take you now to your room,” Mrs Griffin said, rising to her feet and moving around the desk she had been sitting at as if she had been seemingly looking at receipts.
“Thank you,” Georgette said, keen to keep any hint of attempted friendliness out of her voice.
The servants’ staircase was located quite centrally, and one was able to go from the basement to the attics without happening upon a member of the household. It was with some relief that Georgette realized that the route from the top of the servants’ staircase to her own little room in the attic was a very simple one, and it went some way to giving her a sense of having her bearings if only just a little.
“This is your room,” Mrs Griffin said, pushing the door open and allowing Georgette to enter first.
“How lovely,” Georgette said, again giving nothing away in her tone.