A Lady Never Tells(14)
The man took her wrist firmly and pulled her hand from the door, thrusting her back. “Take your stories elsewhere, you doxy, and stop dirtying the earl’s doorstep.”
With that, the man closed the door in her face.
Chapter 3
Mary stared, mouth open, at the smooth expanse of the closed door in front of her, too astonished to speak or even move. A saving fury washed through her, and she grabbed the knocker, bringing it down several times. She paused, and when there was no response, she began to hammer again.
At long last, the door opened. The same man stood before her, his face red now with anger. He came out, pulling the door shut behind him, and Mary was forced to move back and down onto the top step, almost dropping her satchel.
“Cease that noise this instant!” the man exclaimed. “I told you to take yourself off. The earl doesn’t have time for bird-witted hussies cluttering up his doorstep.”
“Hussies!” Mary faced him, eyes flashing and her free hand planted pugnaciously on her hip. “How dare you! I am no hussy!”
The man cast a sardonic glance down her form and let out a snort. “Aye, ’tis certain you don’t dress like one. Well, he has no use for dowds harassing him, either. Whatever you’re collecting for, try around the side, like I said, or get you gone altogether.”
“I am not collecting for anything!” Mary retorted, stung by his comment on her best dress and bonnet. “I told you, I am here to see the Earl of Stewkesbury. I demand that you tell him I am here.”#p#分页标题#e#
The man crossed his arms over his chest. “No one sees the earl without Mr. Hooper’s say-so.”
“Then let me see this Mr. Hooper, whoever he is.”
“He’s the butler. And I already told you—go around to the side.”
Mary regarded the man for a long moment. She had not expected this obstacle to her plans. She had known she would have to convince her grandfather of the truth of her claims. It had never occurred to her that she would have to convince some strangely dressed servant merely to let her see her grandfather. But it was obvious that she could not shove her way past him.
Turning on her heel, she descended the steps and went around to a narrow path along the side of the grand house. At the end of the walkway, a few steps led down to a door of much less grandeur. Mary trotted down the steps and, tucking the case under her arm, rapped sharply upon the door. Her nerves had long since vanished, burned away by her righteous indignation, and she was eager to launch into battle with Mr. Hooper.
A young girl in a mobcap opened the door and gazed blankly at her. Even after Mary demanded to see Mr. Hooper, the girl continued to look equally unknowing.
“We’re not ’iring,” she said at last, turning to speak to a tall woman with muscular arms who was stirring a pot. “Are we, Cook?”
The woman thus addressed frowned at the girl. “Course not. Wot are ye doin’, Millie? Get back to the pots.”
The girl nodded, saying, “Yes, ma’am,” and started to close the door.
“No!” Mary was faster this time than at the front door, and she jumped inside, bringing up her forearm to stop the closing of the door. “I am not here looking for employment. I am here to see the earl.”
Both the cook and the girl regarded her doubtfully.
“The man at the front door said I must speak to Mr. Hooper,” Mary went on. “At this door. Now, will you kindly inform Mr. Hooper that I am here and wish to speak to him?”
Something in her voice must have convinced the girl, or at least the cook, for after a nod from the tall woman, Millie turned and headed off into the recesses of the house. Mary waited for an interminable time, during which she found herself the object of all eyes in the kitchen—and that, she realized as she glanced around the cavernous room, was a very large number indeed. The kitchen could easily have held two or three of their tavern’s kitchen back home, and the number of people working in it was daunting. Was this not a private home? How could it need such a large kitchen? And what could all these people possibly do? She noticed two or three other men dressed in the same way as the man at the front door.
A very tall, very thin, very elegant man with snowy white hair strode into the room. In his black jacket and trousers and starched white shirt, he looked so imposing that Mary knew at once that this must be the earl himself. Millie must have misunderstood and had fetched Mary’s grandfather herself.
Mary’s stomach quivered at the thought of meeting her grandfather, but she faced him squarely. He halted in front of her and regarded her with an unwavering gaze.