“Ah.”
“She’s a different type of girl than most of us, but I must say she seems most suitable. She speaks well and is eager to work hard. She looks like she’s fallen on some hard times, but she has experience and overall she seems like she will fill the position superbly.”
Rosalind waited, wondering what Mrs. Abrams was going to say next.
“I would like you to show her to your rooms and then let her put on your extra uniform for the interview with Mrs. Sloane. Let her use your mirror and pins too.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rosalind wondered if the older lady had even considered how awkward it should have been for Rosalind to help prepare a woman to take her place. But perhaps she didn’t care.
When she entered the kitchens again, Rosalind found Minerva surrounded by various members of the staff. All were either plying her with food, offering her suggestions for the interview, or telling her about themselves.
“Minerva, I am Rosalind,” she said as formally as she could. She didn’t want anyone to suspect that she had anything to do with Minerva’s appearance in the house. “Mrs. Abrams thought I might be able to help you prepare for your interview with Mrs. Sloane.”
Minerva stood up with a rush, her chair scraping the tile floor. Wincing at the squeak, her cheeks colored. “I am so sorry,” she said to Cook.
“Don’t you fret, now. We’ve all been in your shoes. And don’t worry about your interview. Mrs. Sloane is always kind to applicants.”
“Don’t worry about her none either,” Jerome said with a dark look Rosalind’s way. “She won’t be with us much longer.”
Thankfully, Minerva said nothing at first as she followed Rosalind up the servants’ stairs. When they were about halfway up, however, Minerva spoke—perhaps oblivious to Jerome’s unkind remark about Rosalind from excitement at this new opportunity. “You never said how friendly the staff is. They feel like family, they do.”
“I didn’t think of it. Um, I guess I had assumed all staffs would be that way.”
“No, Rosalind,” she murmured. “Most of the time they’re not that way at all.”
CHAPTER 24
Those words echoed in Rosalind’s head when she was summoned to Mrs. Abrams’ sitting room at four o’clock and given an envelope with the last of her pay and a letter of reference. Though it seemed the housekeeper didn’t have the heart to send her out without a letter of reference, Rosalind’s cursory glance showed that it was barely adequate. Never again would she be hired in a grand house.
Feeling chilled, Rosalind folded the letter and counted the money. “Thank you. I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
“No, Miss Pettit. You will leave right now. Your time at Sloane House has come to its end.”
While Rosalind stared at her incredulously, the housekeeper became even more businesslike. “I know the hour is getting late, but that can’t be helped. Time stands still for no man.”
Stunned and more than a little hurt that Mrs. Abrams was not even going to wait to see if Minerva did indeed “acclimate,” Rosalind hurried to her room, changed out of her uniform, and threw what belongings she had into her carpetbag. As she hoisted it over one crooked arm, Rosalind realized she was leaving with quite a bit more than she came with. More importantly, she was leaving with a greater understanding of life and expectations and human nature.
As luck would have it, she passed Douglass Sloane as she left the house, and she set down her bag for just a moment to talk with him.
“I guess things didn’t work out here after all. A shame.”
Yet again his words were infused with multiple meanings. Now, though, she was able to reply with a bit of intelligence. “No, sir, it didn’t. But everything wasn’t a total loss. I learned a lot.”
“Anything of use?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I learned a lot of information that will one day come in handy. And I realize a few important truths.”
“Such as?”
“Well, I’ve learned to depend on myself. I’ve learned it is foolish to depend on anyone or anything.”
He blinked. “Now that is harsh.”
“I agree, sir. It has been very harsh. And more than a bit painful too. But I will survive. We all do.”
“Some don’t,” he said softly. “Some don’t survive at all.”
She met his gaze and felt chilled all over again. Indeed, she had learned that too. Some in their midst didn’t survive.
She picked up her carpetbag one more time, opened the door, and stepped out into waning sunlight. Wondering what would happen to her.