Читать книгу Too Hot For A Spy - Pearl Wolf - Страница 11

Wilson Academy—Friday, The Fifth of July

“There we are, miss,” the young girl said, as she finished tying the apron in a neat bow. The plump, round-faced scullery maid adjusted the starched white cap over Olivia’s curls and added, “Me cleanin’ gown fits you right well.”

Olivia nodded and with some hesitation asked, “Thank you for helping me. What’s your name, lass?”

“Jenny, miss.” She curtseyed, reached to the floor, and handed Olivia an empty pail, a hard-bristled scrubbing brush and a large soft cloth. “Here you are, miss. You’ll need these.”

Olivia frowned, but took the offering. “What must I do with these?”

Jenny’s eyes opened wide. “Don’t you know how to scrub a floor?”

“I’m sorry, no. I’ve never done it before. Can you tell me how?”

Jenny cast her eyes down. “It’s a lowly task fer a fine lady like yourself, miss, but on Fridays, I scrub the kitchen floor tiles. You’re to do it ’stead o’ me today. Mayhap Mrs. Hunnicut told you how it’s done?”

Olivia’s eyes pleaded as if she were begging for alms. “Please. Tell me how you do it, Jenny.”

“Why, on me hands and knees, o’course. I do one small piece o’ floor at a time, see? First, you fetch the water from the scullery sink, see? Then heat it. Not too hot, mind, or you’ll burn y’self. Dip your rinsin’ cloth in and wring it out afore you add a bit ’o soap—it’s in that bin next to the sink. Scrub hard with the brush and use the cloth to mop up the suds. You start in the hall from the back stairwell landing, see, and work your way all the way to the galley. Take special care in the galley, miss. Chef Fourier carries on somethin’ fierce if there’s dirt on the floor where he does his work.”

Olivia tried to look cheerful. “Is there anything else I should know?”

Jenny tapped her finger to her cheek. “No need to scrub any of the rooms down here that has a door. Them that’s in charge of ’em do that theyselves. Change the water often, mind. Once you empty the final pail outside in the yard, you’re done.”

Olivia bit her bottom lip. “How long should it take me?”

“I’m allus finished by noon, in time for me lunch.” She noted the look of terror in Olivia’s eyes. “Don’t fret so, miss. It’s not hard. You’ll get the hang of it in no time. ’Sides, you’re better off scrubbin’. T’other lads do much dirtier work. They’re made to clean the muck from the chimneys or the ashes from the fireplaces or the horse droppins in the stables. I’m off now. Got to help Mrs. Hunnicut mend the linens.”

When Jenny was gone, Olivia filled the pail, heated the water, dipped the rinsing cloth in and wrung it dry, then added some soap. At the stairwell entrance, she lifted the hem of Jenny’s uniform, fell to her knees, dipped the brush and began to scrub the tiles. It was tedious work, but she managed to make a game of it. She scrubbed hardest when she pictured the spymaster’s face on the floor.

By the time she reached the wider kitchen galley where all meals were prepared, her eyes burned from the strong soap. She had no notion it was laced with lye. Her back was sore, her arms were heavy, her hands were red and raw, Jenny’s gown was soaked, and worst of all she’d torn three fingernails.

At last, she scrubbed up to the kitchen door that led to the yard. She opened the door and emptied her final pail. She wrinkled her nose and sneezed from the smell of lye when she returned the pail, the brush and the rinsing cloth to the scullery room and dragged herself up the back stairs to the attic to change for lunch. But when she glanced at the clock on her wall, she heaved a sigh of defeat. She needn’t hurry. She’d already missed lunch.

The spymaster presided over staff meetings in the library every Friday afternoon. His instructors arranged themselves on either side of the library table in the middle of the room, seated in comfortable chairs designed for reading and study as well as for staff discussions. Sebastian sat at its head, his secretary Hugh Denville opposite him, quill in hand, ready to record the proceedings. The only one missing was Harry Green, archery and rifle instructor, for he was out on the archery range supervising the trainees.

Sebastian surveyed his staff with a great deal of pride. He’d selected well—the best he could find in each field. Except for long holidays at the end of each training session, the men lived in comfortable quarters at the academy, took their meals together and developed an easy camaraderie among themselves.

Mrs. Hunnicut lived in a well-appointed suite of rooms on the attic floor where Olivia and all the maids had their quarters.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he began with little ceremony. He glanced at Mrs. Hunnicut and added, “Ma’am. Reports, please.” On his right sat Aaron Foster, codes and ciphers instructor. Sebastian nodded for him to start.

“Not much out of the ordinary to report, except for Carter. He seems to rub the others raw with his superior pose, but as a group, they’ve acquitted themselves well during this first week. Fairchild shows promise, sir.” He chuckled.

Sebastian looked startled. “What?”

“Fairchild doesn’t like your class, Spymaster. She told me she thinks intelligence gathering is nothing more than gossip.”

It was clear the spymaster didn’t appreciate the jest for, when everyone else laughed, he did not. “It is no secret that I was dead set against a woman in our program. How does she fare in martial arts, Sensei?”

Sensei Yukio Nori, the Japanese martial arts expert, whose grasp of the English language was limited, sucked air through one side of his mouth. “Faihchil’ velly good in tai chi. Bettah than othahs.”

“Fairchild eez my star fencing pupil. Ze others? Pooh! Zey cannot compare, but zey do try to learn,” said Fourier.

Sebastian grinned at him. “I understand Fairchild also speaks fluent French. Might that influence your glowing report, Andre?”

“Oui!” Given to Gallic exaggeration, Fourier kissed his fingertips and threw them into the air, which caused his colleagues to chortle. He was well-liked, not only for his fencing skills, but also for the excellent cuisine he arranged day in and day out.

Stable master Tom Deff said, “I’ve no complaint with Fairchild, either, sir. She’s become accustomed to riding astride like the others, rather than sidesaddle, the way she was taught. She’s fearless. Takes hedges and fences like a gazelle.”

“Take care she isn’t also reckless. I don’t want her to break her foolish neck, Tom. That advice goes for the rest of you as well.” He shook his head. “I cannot impress upon all of you more forcefully than this. She must not come to harm under any circumstance. We shall all have to answer for it if she does. Do I make myself clear?”

Tom Deff grinned. “I’ll take care she doesn’t fall off her horse, sir.”

“She’s a right one, she is. For a woman, that is. She determined to master push-ups on her first day and refused to give up, though she appeared ready to sink from the effort,” Hugh Denville added.

Sebastian frowned.

“Fairchild may need a great deal more practice in the art of self-defense, I fear,” said Evelyn Hawes. “I shudder to think what will happen to her when she begins boxing lessons next week.”

Sebastian barked a laugh. “Shall we invite Gentleman Jackson to train her, do you think, Evelyn?”

“If Jackson were daft enough to agree, he’d be no gentleman, would he? Who would dare strike a lady? I’d like to recommend we allow her to forgo boxing and work an extra session with Sensei Nori since she does so well with him.”

Sebastian’s eyes gleamed. “Afraid to climb into the ring with her?”

“No, sir. Not afraid. Terrified, more like.”

This brought an amiable laugh from the table.

“You wrong her, my friends. She won’t cry off. She isn’t missish in the least,” objected Mrs. Hunnicut dryly.

“Give us your report, Martha,” said Sebastian. “How does she in domesticity?”

With a twinkle in her eye, she said, “This morning she scrubbed the kitchen floor from the stairwell to the kitchen door leading outside. That’s the full length of Wilson Academy. She was so intent on performing her duty, she missed her lunch.”

Sebastian struggled to quell the urge to laugh. “Fairchild scrubbed the floor? Astonishing. And she registered no complaint?”

“No. Well, only one small one that doesn’t signify.” The housekeeper blushed.

“And what was that, if I may ask?”

“It distressed her that she broke her last three nails.”

Saturdays were set aside for the trainees to perform personal tasks. They were expected to wash their own clothing, clean their chamber, change their linens and perform all necessary personal grooming activities.

The men set up their bathtub in the study hall on the first floor and took turns bathing. Riggs had thought to tack an amusing note on the door that read, KEEP OUT! THIS MEANS YOU, FAIRCHILD!

But he needn’t have bothered with the sign, for Olivia was luxuriating in her own hot bath in front of the warming fireplace in Mrs. Hunnicut’s sitting room. Pure heaven. How had she taken such a luxury so for granted all these years, she wondered.

Mrs. Hunnicut peered into the room. “The lads are waiting for me to trim their hair and pare their nails. I’ll do the same for you when I return.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hunnicut. My nails are sorely in need of paring now that they’ve all been shortened by the week’s er…activities. As to my hair, will you do it up for me?”

“I’m not handy that way, but I’ll send Jenny to do it for you, dear. She’s much better at it than I am. I’ll attend to your nails when I return. Our Saturday luncheons are the only time instructors and trainees have an opportunity to become better acquainted. We find the relaxation of the rules invigorating and you will too, I imagine.”

“I look forward to it, then.”

Olivia rested her head on the edge of the tub and let her thoughts wander.

What an extraordinary week this has been! It’s as if I’ve never known any life other than this one. An odd sensation. Do I miss my family? Yes and no. I find being here much to my liking, except for the dour spymaster who clearly wishes me as far away as Scotland. Or Hades, perhaps. Yet when he made love to me at the Hobbleton Ball in London, it was as if he were a different man. I liked his touch then. I’d like it now if he weren’t such a grumpy bear.

When the bathwater cooled, she rose and dressed for teatime. Mrs. Hunnicut had suggested she wear her own clothing for the occasion, the gown she’d worn when she arrived at Wilson Academy. When Jenny appeared and fixed her hair for her, she couldn’t have been more pleased. The young scullery maid had talent far beyond scrubbing floors. While she waited for Mrs. Hunnicut to repair her ragged nails, Olivia occupied herself with the many ladies magazines the housekeeper was so fond of reading. It was a most relaxing morning.

A luncheon buffet was served in the drawing room on the ground floor. The terrace doors had been thrown open, for it was a warm summer day.

“Riggs! How well you look,” said Olivia. “And you, Perkins. You too, Carter. Why, we all look almost human. I feel as though we’re at a party in London.” She stopped to look around her. “But where are the twins?”

Rufus Riggs laughed. “They’ll be here shortly, Fairchild. They’re planning a bit of mischief, I think.”

The door opened to their instructors, all dressed in the pink of fashion. Olivia should not have been surprised to find the spymaster outshining his instructors in dress. He wore well-made buckskin trousers tucked into gleaming Hessians and a blue coat obviously made by the finest of London tailors. A handsome light blue vest was buttoned over an excellent white shirt, his neatly tied neckpiece completing the costume.

He lost no time in mingling with the trainees. In a warm voice, he said, “Congratulations to you all. I received nothing but glowing reports on your progress at our staff meeting yesterday. You do us proud. I trust your second week will be just as rewarding.” He looked around him. “But where are the twins?”

“Here, sir,” they answered in unison. They were dressed in matching apparel down to their boots.

“Who, may I ask, is whom, gentlemen?”

“Ah, that’s for you to guess, sir. We know who we are, but do you? We challenge all of you. Can anyone tell us apart?”

Much delight was taken in trying to guess, a sport in which the trainees and their instructors ventured varied opinions. But Olivia did not participate. Instead, she hung back and observed the merriment, her hand stroking her chin.

“What is your guess, my dear?” Mrs. Hunnicut asked her at last.

She looked around the room. “I needn’t guess. I’ve always been able to tell these two rascals apart, no matter how hard they try to swindle me.”

“How clever you are, Fairchild. Do tell. I can’t wait to hear,” challenged John Carter, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Olivia tilted her head at him and smiled. “I warn you, Carter. You’ll owe me an apology for your challenge.” She walked up to the twins, took each by a hand and searched their grinning faces. “You devils! Your dimple is much deeper when you smile, William. And you, Robert, curl your lip when you frown.”

“Right you are. Good show, Fairchild!” said Robert. “Apologize, Carter. You owe it to her.”

Carter turned his attention to the sideboard and filled his plate. He looked up at the others and said, “Apologize? For what? Fairchild merely ventured a wild guess and happened to hit the mark. I knew the difference between you two all the time.”

Olivia’s self-appointed champion, a very red-faced Riggs, confronted him. “That’s unkind in you, Carter. Apologize to the lady, or I’ll land you a…”

The room went silent until Hawes spoke up. “No challenges here, Riggs. Save it for the boxing ring.”

“With pleasure, sir!” said Riggs, uncurling his balled fists.

“As you wish, but I’m handy with the gloves,” added Carter in a bored tone.

Hawes narrowed his eyes. “Which do you prefer, then? Boxing or wrestling?”

“Boxing,” said Carter.

“Wrestling,” said Riggs at the same time.

“A coin toss, then. In class on Monday, gentlemen.”

When the two combatants continued to glare at one another, Sebastian intervened. “That’s enough, you two. On Saturdays we behave like ladies and gentlemen. This is meant as an essential part of your training.”

The instructors rose to the occasion by attaching themselves to one or the other of the trainees and engaging them in animated conversation.

Mrs. Hunnicut was left to engage Carter in conversation, for no one else approached him to sooth his arrogant feathers. She drew him to a quiet corner of the drawing room. “Tell me, Carter. Where were you raised? Have you family? How do you take your tea?”

Sebastian offered Olivia his arm. “I fancy a stroll in our garden, Fairchild. Care to join me?”

Shocked at this pleasantry, she placed her hand on his arm. When he covered it with one of his hands, his touch sent a quiver of excitement through her. She drew in her breath and said, “Yes, sir. I would like that.” He led her outdoors and down the two steps into the garden where summer flower buds were already a riot of color lining the pathway.

“Don’t look so down in the mouth, Fairchild. I don’t consider you at fault for the unpardonable behavior shown by Carter and Riggs.”

“Kind of you to say so, sir. I was afraid you’d think otherwise.”

“Shall we sit here?” He pointed to a bench and led her to it. “I owe you an apology.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “An apology, sir? For what?”

“For my unpardonable behavior on your first day.”

“Thank you for that, sir. May I ask what made you change your mind?”

“I received glowing reports about your progress from my staff. I only hope…”

His final words made her wary. What was he getting at? “What is it you hope, sir?”

“Let me be frank, Fairchild. I hope that my instructors aren’t easier with you than with the other trainees because you are a mere woman.”

His remark took her warm feelings away and replaced them with indignation. When she could trust herself to speak, she asked, “Have you reason to think they have been too easy with me?”

“You complained of breaking some of your fingernails, didn’t you?”

She forced a laugh, but her eyes betrayed her anger. “To shreds. Not some. All ten of them. My remark was directed to Mrs. Hunnicut when she asked if I needed her to pare them.”

Bloody hell! I’ve put my foot in my mouth. He threw his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry. No need to chastise me.”

“It appears you have little faith in your instructors’ opinions. Or in me.”

“I’ve made you angry, I see. I beg your pardon. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, sir.” She rose and curtseyed. “How kind of you to favor me with your attentions this afternoon. Will you excuse me?” She turned toward the terrace and hurried away.

Sebastian watched her depart. Damn! I made a mess of it. Just when I was making progress with her, too. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench. He was hard and it showed. He didn’t know whether he wanted to kill her for the way she made him feel, or kiss her senseless for the very same reason.

After chapel on Sunday morning, the trainees were free to rest and to study. It rained all day, destroying all thought of outdoor pursuits. Having had enough of the company of her fellow trainees, Olivia took advantage of Mrs. Hunnicut’s offer to make use of her sitting room. She brought her study manuals from her room down the hall, and settled into one of the comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace. She was seated opposite her hostess, who was busy with her needlepoint.

“How peaceful it is here, ma’am. You are very kind to allow me to intrude on you in this way.”

“Nonsense, Fairchild. I enjoy your company.” A knock on the door interrupted her. “There’s our tea, dear.” She began to rise.

But Olivia objected. In a soft voice, she said, “I’ll get it, ma’am.” She waited at the door while the maid placed the tea tray on the table, bobbed a curtsey and left the room.

Olivia shut the door and asked, “How do you take your tea, ma’am? Let me prepare it for you.”

“Cream, no sugar, thank you.”

Olivia served her the tea, offered her the pastry tray, and served herself before sitting back down. “Have you always been the housekeeper at Wilson Academy, ma’am?”

“I was an earl’s housekeeper in Leeds before I married. In fact, I met the spymaster when he visited there before the war. When Wilson Academy was completed to his satisfaction, he wrote to me and offered me this position. I jumped at the chance, for the challenge of being an instructor as well as housekeeper intrigued me. My employer did not stand in my way. And here I am.

“I feel as though the trainees have become my children and the instructors my family. We all live on the grounds, you see. We meet for cocktails in the drawing room before dinner, so we’ve grown to know one another quite well. I’m a widow and it’s less lonely for me here among such congenial company.”

“Are none of the instructors married?”

“Aaron Foster is a widower. He came out of retirement at Viscount Sidmouth’s urging. He’s well-known in his field. He has a son in the army, I believe. The others are unmarried, except for Tom Deff. He has a wife, three grown sons and two daughters in Ireland. They rely on his financial support. There’s not much honest work to be had there. He owns a horse breeding farm that his sons tend in his absence. He returns to see them all when we take our holiday in the fall, after your training is done.”

“Do you enjoy your role here?”

“Oh yes. It’s important work and I take it seriously. Most gratifying, my dear. And not in the least bit difficult. I’ve managed to earn enough to see me in comfort when I retire. And having no family I can call my own, I dearly love to mother all you young ones.”

Olivia smiled. “You are like a mother to all of us, ma’am.”

“Do you have a mother?”

“Oh, yes. And a father. And four sisters and one brother. I miss them all.”

“I expect you do.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Oh dear. Just look at the hour. Time to make ready for dinner, my dear.”