Luck Is No Lady(34)

The housekeeper was like no one Emma had ever known. She had rich dark hair in a mass of curls tucked under her cap and couldn’t have been more than ten years older than Emma. Though she wore a housekeeper’s black gown and white apron, there was little else about her that appeared to fit the domestic role.

With a little wriggle of her eyebrows, the housekeeper leaned forward across the table, offering a wide smile and a wink as she said, “I have to say how delightful it is to have another woman in the club.”

Emma would have replied, but Mrs. Potter gave a wave of her hand and went on. “There is Mrs. Beaumont and her girls, but we so rarely see them unless they are working.” She gave an elegant shrug. “And of course, that is not the time for friendly conversation. Then there are the housemaids, but I cannot very well befriend them when I have to maintain my air of superiority,” she explained with a self-mocking flourish.

“Oh, that reminds me…we have a new maid starting below stairs. I have her information here for you to add her to the books.”

As the housekeeper paused to reach into the pocket of her skirts, Emma realized she had managed to utter only one word since the woman’s arrival.

“Thank you, Mrs. Potter,” Emma said as the woman handed her the paperwork. “I will take this upstairs before I leave and shall add her to the accounts first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, do call me Clarice. I am not actually a missus, and Potter is not my real name.” She narrowed her gaze. “Now that I have met you, I must say Mrs. Adams does not suit you at all.”

Emma smiled at the woman’s frankness. There was something wonderfully bracing in her open manner. “Please call me Emma.”

Clarice wrinkled her nose and gave a heavy sigh. “The things we must do to protect our virtue…” Then she giggled again. “Thank goodness mine was lost ages ago.”

Emma wondered at her lack of shock over the blunt declaration, but the other woman’s obvious penchant for saying things many would consider indelicate was decidedly refreshing.

The housekeeper paused barely long enough to take a sip of her tea, then glance at the watch fob attached to her apron before she leaped to her feet and spun around with a swoosh of her skirts. “Goodness, look at the time. How does the day manage to get so far away from me? I must be gone.”

The woman swept toward the door, but turned back again before she reached it. Her mercurial movements were fascinating to observe.

“I should warn you, dear, I will be starting to turn in some rather large invoices for the upcoming celebration. I would not want you to be alarmed by the unusual expenditure. It may not look so, but I will be well within the allotted budget.”

“I appreciate the notice,” Emma replied, feeling a bit at a loss. “What exactly is being celebrated?”

“La! Roderick has not told you?” the housekeeper asked, eyes wide in surprise. “Isn’t that just like a man? The biggest event of the year and he doesn’t even think to mention it.”

Emma smiled. “I am afraid not.”

Clarice’s expression lit up in her excitement as she explained. “Every year Bentley’s holds an enormous party in celebration of its anniversary. This year it shall be a masked event.” She clapped her hands together, and with her eyes shining, she leaned forward conspiratorially. “Masquerades are always so wonderfully exciting, don’t you think? People behave in ways they wouldn’t dream of otherwise. Oh, it should be quite an entertaining evening, to be sure.”

“It does sound rather exciting.”

The housekeeper winked. “It always is, but it requires loads of preparation and we are only a few weeks out, so I had better be on my way.” She twirled away again to add over her shoulder, “It was lovely having tea with you, Emma. I insist we do it again very soon.”

“I would like that,” Emma replied, finding it amusing that the other woman had barely managed a sip herself.

“Ta-ta, dear,” the housekeeper trilled as she sauntered out the door and disappeared around the corner, leaving Emma feeling as though she had just been swept up and then left behind by a warm gale wind.





Eleven


Over the next several days, Emma met more of Bentley’s staff and developed an efficient routine while making steady progress on the accounts. She immersed herself in her work, settling into the quiet atmosphere of the club in the early hours of the day. As she sank into the consistency of mathematics, following the natural and predictable pattern of calculations, she experienced some small relief from the constant anxiety that had claimed her since her father’s death. Her worry over finances and her sisters’ futures faded to the back of her mind in the hours she spent at her desk.