“Then see to it!”
For my part, I had shrunken somewhat, my face half in my hands, and as close to tears as I could realistically suggest. In truth, it wasn’t hard. Faced with Dahria’s aristocratic contempt, it was all too easy to imagine myself less than the dirt beneath her heel.
Macinnes faltered, shooting a look at the security guard, and Dahria took the opportunity to step close to him. She snarled into his face, “I assume you have a scullery maid?”
*
I WAS PROPELLED—UNSTEADILY in those ridiculous shoes—through a stockroom and into a hallway where stairs descended to the servants’ quarters and kitchen. I descended cautiously, the security guard at my back, listening to the fading sound of Dahria’s rant about candles, shoddy service, and the inadequacies of personal staff. I kept my eyes open for the butler who had turned me out on my ear before, but there was no sign of him, and the housekeeper who had opened the door to me called the scullery maid without giving me a second glance. I blubbered through a handkerchief, hiding my face as best I could, until a girl of my own age entered, looking flustered.
This was surely Billy’s lady friend. She was white, pretty in an ordinary sort of way, with rough hands and a round, kindly face.
When she spoke, it was with the accent of the city’s working poor. “Oh my, you ’ave made a mess of yourself, ’aven’t you?” she said. “Let’s ’ave a look in the light.”
She shunted me close to a patch of sun that streamed in from one of the high windows I had seen from the backyard.
“’Old on,” she said. “Let me get my iron and some brown paper.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You’re Billy’s friend, aren’t you?”
She looked up at that, startled and, judging by the way she checked over her shoulder to make sure the housekeeper was not in earshot, afraid.
I couldn’t blame her. I doubted Billy would be considered an especially suitable catch for someone who worked—albeit menially—on Crommerty Street.
She risked a smile as she put the iron on the stove. “Let’s get you out of that pinafore,” she said. “’Ave a seat.”
I did so, relieved to take the weight off my aching feet. How Dahria walked around in shoes like those all day, I had no idea.
“How do you know Billy?”
“Mutual friends,” I said with an apologetic shrug. “I’m Ang, by the way.”
“Bessie,” said the girl. “You and Billy work together?”
“Nah,” I said, handing her the dress and watching as she picked the wax off before applying the iron. “A little overlap, but different circles.”
“Well, yes,” said the girl, as if that were obvious.
My hackles rose. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“With you being a lady’s maid and all,” she said, momentarily baffled by my look. “You thought I meant because you are…” She hesitated.
“Lani,” I completed for her. “Yes. Sorry.”
“No need,” said Bessie, relieved to get that over. “And to tell you the truth, we don’t see many of your sort around here.”
That was my chance.
“No?” I said. “What about a boy? Last week.”
The maid shook her head.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Positive. Why?”
“Someone said there was a Lani boy going from door to door all down the street,” I tried.
She shook her head again. Her face was guileless, innocent. I would lay everything I had that she was telling the truth. “I think there was a boy at Ansveld’s,” she said. “Across the street. Mr. Savil, the security guard, commented on it, but he never came here.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’d have seen him. I’m never off duty when the shop is open. Mr. Macinnes doesn’t like to be understaffed.”
I nodded. “Fancy district,” I said.
Bessie grinned. “Too fancy for the likes of me,” the maid agreed. “Or ’is Lordship, truth be told.” She said the last in a low voice.
“His Lordship?” I asked.
“Macinnes,” she said, her smile souring. “Jumped-up little nobody, he is. Amazed they ’aven’t drummed him out.”
“It’s a nice house,” I said. “Seems successful.”
“Oh, he makes his money, all right,” she agreed. “But this classy-gent routine is all an act. Why do you think he has the butler and the mahogany sideboard? So no one looks too closely at ’im.”
I matched her grin. “Bit shady, is he?” I asked.
“Oh we get all sorts in ’ere,” she said. “Especially after hours, when the posh folk ’ave gone ’ome.”