Free Burnt Norton by Caroline Sandon

everywhere: the dressing-table mirror, the brushes and combs, the candlesticks on the mantelpiece. ‘I love nice things, I believe all girls do, but best of all I like fabrics. I think that is because of my sewing. Ma says I know a good thing when I see it, and I reckon the silk on your bed must have cost a fortune.’
    Lady Keyt laughed, and Molly relaxed, knowing they would get along.
    ‘I am unaware of the cost, but I am glad you like sewing for you will be in charge of my clothes, and when they need mending it will be your responsibility to do so. Can you manage that?’
    ‘I surely can. I have mended most of my life, and my stitches are nigh-on impossible to see.’
    ‘That is the perfect requirement for a lady’s maid. Now, Molly – do you mind if I call you that, for we are to see a great deal of each other?’
    ‘I would much rather be called that.’
    ‘Well then, it’s decided.’ Lady Keyt’s reflection smiled back at her. ‘Ruth and Annie will empty the slops, lay the fires in my bedchamber and change the bed linen, but you will care for my wardrobe and act as my personal dresser. When you are not with me you will sit with Elizabeth. I hope you won’t find the position tedious after the bustle of a coaching inn.’
    ‘No, my lady. I’m sure I won’t.’ Molly’s enthusiasm grew by the minute. Lady Ann Keyt was courteous and kind. As she helped her new employer into a gown of the finest silk and lace, her future seemed bearable after all.
    When Lady Keyt was ready, her soft arms scented with rose water, her hair piled upon her head, she directed Molly to the servants’ quarters.
    ‘It’s through the swing door in the ground-floor passage. They have supper at seven, dear, so you had better hurry along.’
    When Molly pushed open the door, everyone stopped eating and turned towards her. ‘Come here, miss,’ Tompkins, the footman who had winked at her earlier, said, patting the empty chair beside him. ‘It’s all right, love, Mrs Wright isn’t here – she eats with the butler, in her parlour, and there’s still plenty of time. We get an hour at lunch and at dinner.’
    Molly’s keen eye counted eighteen indoor servants and noted every detail of the cheerful room: the heavy china, the pewter flagons on the long oak table, the burnished copper saucepans hanging from hooks on the ceiling. She listened as the conversation flowed.
    ‘She’s come up the hard way, has Mrs Wright,’ Ruth the housemaid said. ‘She has the job of hiring and firing and there’s the problem: she doesn’t think much of you being hired by the master himself. Watch yourself with Mrs Wright.’
    Molly smiled, disguising her unease.
    ‘She’s been here for nigh-on twenty-five years, and she’s climbed up from lower than Annie here and me.’ Ruth prodded the girl beside her. ‘She had two years on the fenders, hearths and slops and she don’t take kindly to you being given right off what took her twenty years to get!’
    Ruth shook her head and giggled, leaving Annie to finish her story. ‘Now she’s in charge of us all indoors. She pays the servants and the tradesmen and if anyone tries to skim her, she don’t half get mad. She does all the accounts and if we disturb her, do we know it! She does the marketing, buys all the meat and veg. She acts like my namesake Queen Anne herself, not that I ever met her, her majesty being dead that many years.’
    Everyone laughed, but Annie continued, ‘she makes me right mad at times. It’s always the same. “Annie, have you been thieving?” she says, after she’s checked the linens. If something goes missing, it’s always me. What does she think I’m going to do with a fine lace napkin, wipe my bum with it?’
    ‘Don’t forget the stillroom perfumes,’ Tompkins interrupted. ‘Molly, me love, if you smell of lavender water, you’ll be dead before the day is out – smelling good, mind you.’ As the banter and the laughter continued, Molly grew more at