When the carriage came to a jostling stop and the driver jumped down to open the door, Emma did not hesitate to exit the vehicle.
Looking up, she saw a somewhat large red-brick Tudor structure with wide granite steps leading up to the front door. The building held little in the way of extra adornment. Ivy had been left to grow up one side of the building, veiling the windows there. The windows in the other side were of dark leaded glass, allowing no glimpse of the interior.
She felt a rush of trepidation and lowered her head, shadowing her face with the brim of her bonnet. Squaring her shoulders and keeping her chin down, Emma approached the steps. She was halfway to the front door when she recalled the advertisement had instructed applicants to go to a side door. A gravel drive ran along one side of the building, most likely to an entrance for employees and deliveries. Descending the front steps, she turned down the drive and continued alongside the building until she came to a service entrance. Rapping sharply on the solid wood, she tucked her anxiety beneath a layer of thick fortitude and waited as she heard rough scuffling beyond.
The door opened swiftly, nearly catching her toes. A short, hulking man with extremely close-cropped gray hair and a nose that looked like it had been broken more than any man should endure suddenly filled the doorway. He looked more like a street brawler than a doorman.
“Wotchya want?”
Emma took a breath. “I am interested in the position—”
She was abruptly cut off as the stout-legged hulk shook his head. “Mrs. Beaumont’s entrance is on the other side of the building. But she don’t have need for any more girls right now. Check back next month.”
Emma frowned, searching for a proper response to the odd instruction. As the door began to draw closed again, she took a hasty step forward.
“Wait. I wish to speak with the party who placed the advertisement in The Times.”
The hulking doorman paused with a dubious expression. “Wot advertisement?”
“For the position of bookkeeper.”
The narrowing of his eyes caused his nose to bunch grotesquely as he dropped his gaze along her person, giving her a rude once-over. Emma refused to reveal her sudden discomfort. Such blatant discourtesy did not deserve a reaction.
After a moment she asked, “Will the interview take place here on the stoop, or do you intend to let me in?”
“But ye’re a woman.”
“Is that a problem?” Emma did not care that she was starting to sound imperious. She had not intended to spend her morning arguing in a doorway. “The advertisement did not indicate the position was open only to men.”
The doorman began to appear quite put out as he ran a rough hand over the prickly surface of his scalp. He glanced over his shoulder then back at Emma.
She remained unmoving on the stoop, her gloved hands clasped at her waist, her gaze directed straight ahead at the thick curve of the man’s chin. She could not let him turn her away. She was here now, and she would see this through to its final conclusion. She intended to gain an interview and would not leave until she did.
Softening her voice a slight degree, she asked, “What is your name, sir?”
The hulk’s expression turned suspicious, but he answered. “Snipes.”
“Mr. Snipes—”
He interrupted with a gruff snort. “Just Snipes.”
Emma smiled. “Of course. Snipes. I can see you are apprehensive at the possibility of incurring the dissatisfaction of your employer. While such concern is admirable, I assure you the advertisement does not in any way indicate a woman cannot apply. I have the post with me if you would like to read it yourself.” She reached into the pocket of her skirt, but withdrew her hand again as Snipes gave a rough shake of his head.
“May I suggest you leave concerns regarding my gender in the hands of your employer? If he did not wish to receive female applicants for the position, he really should have stated so in his advertisement.”
Snipes eyed her with clear suspicion for another long moment before he gave a low harrumph and turned back toward the interior of the building. With a jerk of his head, he grumbled over his shoulder, “Come along.”
Emma followed the man’s lumbering form down a narrow hallway to a servants’ stair. The place smelled as though it had recently received a thorough scrubbing. The walls were whitewashed, the steps were swept clean, and the banister was polished to a rich shine. The proprietor obviously put significant importance on presenting a neat and tidy appearance.
Emma nearly nodded her approval, but managed to resist.
Snipes led her up to the second floor. From there he took her through a pair of double doors into another hallway very different from the one she had traversed below. The floor was thickly carpeted in dark royal blue and the walls were covered in a patterned wallpaper of a similar hue. Here and there stood various antique display tables. One held a large Oriental vase painted in rich, vibrant colors, another a carved bust of an unknown Roman figure, and yet another table held a gilded and filigreed clock. Small framed paintings depicting various outdoor scenes and landscapes lined both walls. The paintings were interspersed occasionally with sconces that utilized gas rather than candles. With the wide windows that spanned the far end of the hall, allowing in a significant amount of daylight, there was no need for them to be lit this morning.