Secrets of Sloane House(102)

Two hours after that, Mr. Armstrong went to heaven.

As black bunting was draped over the windows and the house settled into mourning, Rosalind made a decision. She was going to stay a little bit longer. After visiting with the housekeeper and the cook, she slipped on a clean white apron and began to help out as much as she could. It was the least she could do for the Armstrong family, the very least she could do for Reid.

And, she realized, exactly what she did need at the moment. She needed to do something for someone else. There would be plenty of time to go home and return to her old way of life. Just not yet.

She simply wasn’t ready.





Two weeks later





Her old carpetbag and a new one were packed. She was ready to go.

Sitting on the steps in the foyer, Rosalind waited for Reid and his mother to come downstairs. Mrs. Armstrong wanted to give her a final good-bye, then Reid was going to take her to the train station in his carriage.

He’d insisted on paying for her train ticket home.

“Oh, good, miss. You’re still here,” Cook proclaimed as she trundled forward, carrying a metal pail covered in floral linens in her hands. “All of us downstairs have been wantin’ to give you this.”

Rosalind took it and peeked inside. In the pail was an assortment of sandwiches and cookies, an apple, and a little note too. “This all looks wonderful. Thank you so much.”

“It was the least we could do for you.” Cook shook her head. “I’ve never met a girl like you. You stepped right in and helped everyone in the house. We’ll be sad to see you go.”

Only by sheer force of will could she keep her bottom lip from trembling. “Thank you.” Fingering the note, she said, “Shall I read it now?”

“Definitely not! You’ll make us all blush. Read it when the train leaves the station. It will give you something to do.”

“I’ll do that, then. Thank you again.”

Cook leaned forward. “Just between you and me? We were all hoping that you would be able to stay. You’ve been a real ray of sunshine, you have.”

“You all were so welcoming that you made my time here quite pleasant. But this household is so well run, there’s no opening for me, I’m afraid.”

Cook looked at her in surprise. “None of the staff was thinking about you working here. We were hoping that something would have happened between you and young Mr. Armstrong.”

“Of course nothing could have happened,” she said, a bit shocked. “I’m only a maid.”

“Miss Rosalind, let me tell you a secret. You’re a right help, you are. But you aren’t all that good of a maid or kitchen helper. You’d probably make a better wife for him.”

Rosalind was so shocked, she laughed. “Don’t tell Mr. Armstrong that!”

“Too late, I’m afraid. I overheard,” he said from the doorway of his office off the foyer.

This time, both she and Cook turned beet red.

“I didn’t know you were standing there, sir,” Cook retorted.

“I hope not. I’d hate to think my staff had decided to start telling me what to do with my life to my face.”

Cook pulled back her shoulders. “Never that, sir.”

With a wink, he held out his arm. “Rosalind, are you ready to go? My mother said to tell you that she’ll write to you. She’s something of a watering pot right now. She didn’t want to cry all over your new dress.”

This time, Rosalind wasn’t sure if Reid was joking. At his urging, his mother had sent her shopping with Eloisa two days ago. Though Rosalind protested, Mrs. Armstrong paid for two ready-made dresses, a lovely felt bonnet, a new pair of kid gloves, and a beautiful pair of black boots. She’d enjoyed spending time with Eloisa, and now she was dressed in a fashionable blue gown that fit her almost perfectly. On her head was her new bonnet. Its brim framed her eyes just right, and the ribbons that decorated the brim made her feel feminine and pretty.

“Every woman needs a new dress now and then, dear,” Mrs. Armstrong had remarked when Rosalind tried to protest that it was too much.

Just as importantly, she couldn’t deny that she felt pretty and, for once, attractive. She looked like a young lady, not someone’s servant. And after a lifetime of living in Miranda’s hand-me-downs, followed by these months of working as a housemaid, Rosalind felt a real need to be seen as herself.

Now, looking at Reid, seeing his appreciative gaze, she felt herself blush. “I wouldn’t have minded if your mother dampened my dress. I will miss her.”

“I’ll let her know you said that.” Escorting her out the door, he lifted her into the carriage and away from the best home she’d ever had.