“You may wear your own gowns so long as the colors are muted.” The housekeeper frowned. “I’ll send up a mobcap,” she added. “But your hair is most impractical and likely to get in your way, so I’d advise cutting it.”
At the top floor now, which was also the attic, Mrs. Finke led Delia into a sparse chamber barely large enough to contain a single bed and dresser. Only the grey and white sky were visible from the tiny window cut out in the shape of a pentagon.
“The sheets are newly washed,” Mrs. Finke pointed to linens sitting on the bare mattress and then listed off the rules and schedule all servants were expected to follow. “When the countess doesn’t require your companionship, you will assist the chambermaids or in the kitchen as needed. You’ll be allotted a half-day off once a week. But with Lady St. Vincent’s Christmas guests arriving later today, I wouldn’t count on that any time soon. I’ll meet you back here in one hour to take you to meet her ladyship.”
Mrs. Finke brushed at her skirts. “Welcome to Thorncliffe Abbey.” She closed the door behind her, leaving Delia alone to take in her new surroundings.
Her new home.
What a difference a day made. Delia dropped heavily onto the mattress.
The day before, at about this time, Jack had kissed her goodbye. Afterward, she’d trudged along the muddy road to the mercantile and picked out a pair of spectacles, a simple night rail, and one serviceable brown gown. When she had reached into her pocket to pay, however, she found that Jack had given her a small fortune.
Loaned—not given. Because she would send most of it back. It had amounted to more than she could earn in a year.
She’d felt hot all over, both embarrassed and angry. They’d agreed that no money would change hands between them. She’d only consented to take what she’d believed was a modest amount because she’d been desperate.
Such a large sum tarnished what they’d done. Didn’t it?
The trouble was… Jack hadn’t given her the money as payment. He’d done so out of kindness—and concern. He’d not wanted her to end up in the same predicament he’d found her in the day before—on the road, penniless, alone.
So instead of fuming, she’d swallowed any shame and selected a second gown.
Knowing she was wasting time before Mrs. Finke would return to take her to the countess, Delia rose and opened the small reticule she’d purchased.
The store in Old St. Vincentshire had only carried two frocks in her size. The brown one and a second, prettier one made of mint muslin with embroidery around the bodice and at the hem.
It would be more appropriate for her to wear the brown one, she knew. The cut was simple—practical—but it was the more wrinkled of the two.
Following her little shopping trip, she’d arranged for the innkeeper to send a message to Lady St. Vincent’s residence and then returned to her chamber.
As Jack had promised, she’d found it empty.
Even though he’d told her he would be gone, her heart sank to the soles of her boots. The bed had been made up, but a damp towel draped over the privacy screen.
It was the small bottle sitting beside the wash-bin that nearly broke her. Something Jack had accidentally left behind. It wasn’t much—his cologne.
Him.
Sitting in her tiny chamber now, Delia lifted her new nightshift out of the valise and slowly unwound the material to reveal the bottle.
The cork came off with a popping sound, and even before holding it up to her nostrils, bittersweet emotions filled her senses.
If she opened the bottle too often, the potency would go away. She’d only resort to bringing it out when she was most in need of…
The memory?
Delia swiped at a tear and sniffed. She couldn’t cry. If she cried, her face would turn all splotchy and red, and even if the countess didn’t notice, Mrs. Finke would.
And the housekeeper did not seem like the sort of woman one turned to for comfort.
Delia was grateful for her position here. Even if Mrs. Finke was something of a general, the castle was spectacular, really.
She used the remaining time to freshen up, change into the mint gown, and redo the knot at the back of her neck.
She was not going to cut it off.
Jack had liked it. Even as Delia thought how foolish she was being, a knock sounded at the door, and then Mrs. Finke entered before Delia could answer.