Secrets of Sloane House(62)

Because there could definitely be nothing more.



Rosalind soon discovered that not only had her walk with Reid been observed by some of the other servants, but apparently, according to Mrs. Abrams, it had also been commented upon by one of Mrs. Sloane’s acquaintances.

Less than an hour after she returned, she felt the effects.

At the servants’ table that evening, everyone from the scullery maid to Mrs. Abrams herself treated her with a bit of disdain. By the time they had finished the main course, Rosalind was feeling stung and more than a bit defensive.

“Mr. Armstrong merely walked me back. That is all,” she said for the third or fourth time. “As I’ve told you all, I darted into his church to escape quite a ruckus.”

Nanci sniffed. “Don’t you sound all high-and-mighty now, needing a fine gentleman to accompany you on the sidewalks.”

Cook cast a sharp glance her way. “Getting a bit above ourselves, are we, Rosalind?”

Emma raised a shoulder. “Maybe he’s sweet on her.”

“Of course he is not,” Rosalind protested. “Mr. Armstrong was merely being kind.”

Jerome scoffed as he pulled over a dish and helped himself to a heaping portion of raspberry trifle. “Swells do that sort of thing with their ladybirds. If that’s what you are, you should just say it. You wouldn’t be the first girl to compromise herself for a bit of fun.”

Rosalind didn’t need a mirror to know that her face was now beet red. “I have not compromised myself. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Well, your behavior has once again become suspect,” Mrs. Abrams said. “I’m afraid I’ll have to speak with Mrs. Sloane about this.”

Rosalind felt heat leave her body and become replaced with what felt like ice. She turned her head, hoping to catch Nanci’s eye. But Nanci was as determined as ever to ignore her. She had gotten up, poured herself a cup of coffee, and was now leaning against the door frame. Distancing herself yet again.

Rosalind knew she was now truly, completely alone. She sat without speaking another word until Mr. Hodgeson excused the table. After taking her dishes into the scullery, she escaped to her room, glad that it was still technically her day off.

She read a book she’d borrowed from the home’s library off and on for the next hour, half waiting for Nanci to enter their room. But as the hours passed, it became apparent that Nanci was in no hurry to spend any time with her at all.

Rosalind wondered what Nanci was doing. Was she spending time with the other women servants? Or was she attending Veronica?

Or was she spending yet more time with Douglass even though Rosalind was still sure he had hurt her that day at the fair?

Rosalind hated that such things were even going through her mind. But that was what she’d been reduced to, she decided. She was afraid and running out of time. When the housekeeper spoke to Mrs. Sloane, Rosalind knew she would be let go.

At last, she closed her eyes and willed herself to go to sleep.



Early the next morning, Rosalind rose, noting that everything around her still looked the same. She was startled to see that Nanci’s bed was already neatly made. Rosalind didn’t recall her roommate returning during the night, but she also realized that she’d slept like the dead.

Checking the simple clock on their shared chest of drawers, Rosalind winced. She’d awoken ten minutes later than usual! Nanci probably had dressed in a flash and was already going about her duties.

Not wanting to be thought of as neglecting her duties, too, Rosalind dressed as quickly as she ever had, then hurried below stairs. After a quick breakfast eaten in silence, she prepared trays for Cook, then was sent to clean the main parlors. Next, she helped with a dozen other tasks, all the while feeling the other servants’ judgmental eyes on her.

It was almost a relief when Mrs. Abrams summoned her to another meeting with her and Mrs. Sloane. She walked behind the housekeeper, keeping her eyes on the floor in front of her so she wouldn’t have to see anyone’s expression as they passed.

At last they arrived at Mrs. Sloane’s private drawing room. “Mind your manners today, Rosalind,” Mrs. Abrams cautioned.

“Yes, ma’am.” Oh, she would watch her tongue. But she also realized that she now had very little to lose. Already she was being judged for her actions when she knew that in truth she hadn’t done anything wrong. Slowly, she raised her head and stood a bit straighter.

“Mrs. Sloane, I’ve brought Rosalind in,” the housekeeper announced.

“So I see. Both of you, please come in and sit down,” Mrs. Sloane said. Her voice sounded strained. Perhaps a little aggrieved too.