Free Snobbery with Violence by MC Beaton Page B

is leaving. But this you must never tell a soul or I shall be damned as middle-class. The lady’s maid I had before Yardley left a notebook. I shall find it for you. In it she has written all the recipes for cleaning clothes, hats and shoes. The wash for my hair is quite simple. One pennyworth of borax, half a pint of olive oil and a pint of boiling water.’
    She studied Daisy for a moment and then asked, ‘Do you not find your life here dull?’
    ‘Oh, no, my lady. I like dull. I can’t get enough of dull. And three good meals a day!’
    ‘Very well, Daisy. There is one thing more. I have over-prided myself on my intelligence but I lack common sense. I made a bad mistake with Blandon.’
    ‘I’ll tip you off if there’s another masher,’ said Daisy eagerly. ‘Can tell ’em a mile off.’
     
CHAPTER FIVE
    O blind your eyes and break your heart and back your band away ,
    And lose your love and shave your head; but do not go to stay
    At the little place in What’sitsname where folks are rich and clever;
    The golden and the goodly house, where things grow worse for ever;
    There are things you need not know of, though you live and die in vain ,
    There are souls more sick of pleasure than you are sick of pain.
    G.K. Chesterton, The Aristocrat
    R ose began to feel apprehensive as her father’s coach bowled along the country roads towards Telby Castle, home of the Marquess of Hedley. Would the other guests shun her? If they do, she thought fiercely, then Daisy and I will simply pack up and go home. There had been no need to buy new clothes for the visit. Lady Polly had pointed out to her daughter that a fortune had already been spent on dresses for the season.
    The sky was a clear hard blue and there was a chill in the air. The leaves on the trees were blazing with autumn colours.
    A new beginning, thought Rose. Perhaps this is a new beginning. And if not, well, there were jobs in London for women who knew how to type. There were lodging houses for businesswomen at reasonable rates. Whatever happened, she was resolved not to rot in the country for the rest of her life.
    She was wearing one of the new corselets which had very slight boning, and had left off the usual padding. She had covered her gown with a heavy cloak before making her goodbyes to her mother, knowing that Lady Polly would have been appalled to learn that her daughter was not steel-corseted into the fashionable hourglass figure and leaning-forward look.
    Under her tailored travelling dress she was wearing a silk petticoat with a frou-frou of ruffles from the knee to the hem. Rose, who had considered her mind above fripperies, nonetheless enjoyed the swishing rustling sound the petticoat made when she moved.
    Daisy was learning to be a lady’s maid very quickly, but Rose often sensed a naughtiness in her little maid and often wondered how long Daisy would be content to be a servant.
    Telby Castle had been built in the latter years of the old queen’s reign. It was a sort of folly with towers and battlements, arrow slits and stained-glass windows. It even had a drawbridge and a moat.
    The new building had replaced a Georgian gem of a house with furniture and rooms designed by Robert Adam.
    ‘Not a good master,’ volunteered Daisy, who had been told she was allowed to speak freely when she was alone with her mistress.
    ‘Why do you say that?’ asked Rose.
    ‘Didn’t you notice? When we came through Telby Village, it was ever so poor.’
    Rose had been brought up like everyone else in England to believe that God put one in one’s appointed position, but surely not to abuse that position, she thought, wondering if she might find the courage to tell the marquess he ought to do something about his tenants. Then she sighed. Such a remark would be considered the height of unfeminine insolence.
    She was shown to an apartment in one of the four towers. To her relief, Daisy was allocated a small room off her own bedchamber. When the housekeeper left, Rose