Ashworth Hall by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online

with such superiority, and there were no governesses here.
    “Morning,” the woman said cautiously. “I’m Gwen, Mrs. Radley’s maid. Welcome to Ashworth Hall.”
    “Good morning,” Gracie replied with a hesitant smile. This woman had achieved what Gracie would most like to be. She would need her help, and example, if she were not to let Charlotte down. “Thank you very much.”
    “Mrs. Radley said there might be some things Mrs. Pitt would care to borrow, for the occasion. If you’d like to come with me, I’ll show you and let you hang them in here.”
    “Thank you. That would be very good,” Gracie accepted. She thought of making some remark as to why Charlotte needed to borrow gowns, then changed her mind. Gwen probably knew perfectly well the reason. Few people had any secrets from ladies’ maids. She followed obediently and was shown half a dozen gowns, morning dresses, afternoon dresses and an evening dress of rich wines and rose, which in her private opinion would not have suited Mrs. Radley’s delicate fair coloring at all. Either she had made a very bad purchase or she had got it with the intention of giving it to Charlotte at some time.
    “Very handsome,” she said, trying to hide at least some of her awe. She did not want to appear ignorant.
    “I’m sure it will become Mrs. Pitt very well,” Gwen said generously. “Then if you like, I’ll show you around the upstairs and have you meet the other ladies’ maids.”
    “Thank you very much,” Gracie accepted. It was most important she learn everything she could. One never knew when it might be needed. And if there really were danger, even a crime in the offing, she must know the house, the people, their natures and loyalties. “I’d like that,” she added with a smile.
    Gwen proved most agreeable. Perhaps Mrs. Radley had confided in her something of the true nature of the weekend. Gracie found herself liking her—and the task of becoming familiar with the upstairs of the house, the staircases, the quickest way to the kitchens or the laundry room, the ironing room and the stillroom, and how to avoid the footmen, the bootboys and the butler, whose authority was absolute and whose temper was uncertain.
    Charlotte had told her something of the guests who were expected, and she met Miss Moynihan’s maid, who was a pleasantly spoken French girl with a nice sense of humor. Mrs. McGinley’s maid was an older woman with a habit of shaking her head as if in premonition of some disaster, and Doll, a very handsome girl in her mid-twenties, was Mrs. Greville’s maid. She was tall, a good six inches taller than Gracie, and with a fine figure. She reminded Gracie of what a really excellent parlor maid should look like, except for a certain sadness in her, or perhaps it was aloofness. Gracie would have to know her better to decide.
    She was on her way upstairs, having parted from Gwen, when she saw a young man starting down. Her first thought was what a charming face he had. His hair was very dark, black in the inside fight, and his mouth was gentle, as if his mind might be full of dreams.
    Then her second thought was that she must have mistaken the stairs and be on the wrong flight. She stopped, feeling the blood rush up her face. She would have to meet such a person when she had made such a foolish error. And yet looking up at the landing above, it was exactly like the one she had come down from. The small table had white chrysanthemums on it in a green vase, against pale green-and-white wallpaper. There was even a gas bracket with a frosted-glass mantle exactly like the one she had seen on the way down. How confusing to have two stairs so much the same.
    He had stopped also.
    “Beggin’ your pardon,” he said in a soft Irish accent, quite different from that of Miss Moynihan’s maid. He must be from another part of the country. He stood aside for her to pass, smiling and meeting her eyes. His were very dark, the darkest she had ever seen.
    “I