Emily Goes to Exeter by M. C. Beaton Read Free Book Online Page B

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    She returned to the Blue Room. Emily was in bed and asleep, looking young and defenceless. Her discarded clothes were scattered all over the room.
    Not a bad child, thought Hannah, but thoroughly spoilt. How amazing the amount of damage that can be done by one silly governess. She moved about picking up the clothes. Emily’s trunks were open. On the top of one was a man’s shirt and clean neckcloth. Hannah picked the shirt up and took it over to the fire, where a lamp was still burning on a side-table. It was ruffled and of the finest cambric. She returned to the trunk and without a shred of conscience searched its contents. She was relieved to find that Emily had spoken the truth. There were only a few items of men’s clothing. The rest was an assortment of beautiful gowns and underwear. Apart from Emily’s two trunks, there was a large hat box, lying open, hats spilling over the floor. Hannah clucked in irritation and carried them over to the wardrobe and put them on the capacious upper shelf. Among the hats was the man’s wig. No doubt Emily had meant to use it as part of her disguise and had cut her hair short instead. Hannah carried it to a wig-stand and then studied it. It was a fine wig of real hair, white and curled and tied at the back with a black silk ribbon.
    She returned to Emily’s trunks and took out dresses and pelisses and mantles and hung them away and then arranged the underwear in the top half of the chest of drawers. Then she opened her own modest trunk and put her own things away. She carried her hairbrush and pin-box to the toilet table. It was already crammed with silver-topped bottles of lotions and creams, brushes, combs and bone pins, Emily having unpacked her toilet things. The towels weredamp and had been thrown on the floor, and it appeared Emily had used up both cans of hot water.
    Hannah rang the bell and gave the chambermaid the empty cans and basin of dirty water and the soiled towels and asked for a replacement.
    She kept on working until everything was put away and the trunks and bandbox stowed under the bed. The maid returned with fresh towels and hot water. Hannah knew that such luxuries would be put on the bill and was determined Emily should pay for them.
    Her gaze fell on that wig, gleaming whitely on the wig-stand. She picked it up, then a clean neckcloth, and then the cambric shirt, and made her way downstairs and asked where she might find the lawyer, Mr Fletcher. She was told he was sharing the Red Room – ‘Top of the stairs and turn left’ – with Lord Harley.
    Hannah went up to the Red Room and, forgetting that she was no longer a servant but a guest at the inn, failed to knock, but simply turned the handle and opened the door.
    There was a squawk of dismay from Mr Fletcher. The lawyer was stark naked, sitting in a hip-bath in front of the fire. Lord Harley was scrubbing his back.
    Hannah retreated.
    She waited outside the door, and after a few moments Lord Harley came out and closed the door behind him. ‘What is it, Miss Pym? And do you never knock?’
    The answer to that was, ‘No, good servants never knock,’ but Hannah had no intention of letting Lord Harley or anyone else know she had been a servant.
    ‘I am sorry, my lord,’ said Hannah. ‘I am sleepy and forgot.’
    He thought she looked remarkably wide awake, and was further amazed that the sight of a naked man had not even raised a blush to this spinster’s cheek. He could not know that Hannah was accustomed, from her days in the lower ranks of servants, to coming across gentlemen in the buff.
    Hannah held out the wig, shirt, and neckcloth. ‘Miss Freemantle will not be needing these items, and I thought Mr Fletcher might appreciate a fresh change of shirt and perhaps a new wig. Mr Fletcher is thin and Miss Freemantle is slim and I felt sure the shirt would fit.’
    Lord Harley’s lips curled in amusement. Poor Mr Fletcher. There had been no doubt that Mr Fletcher was slightly ripe. Lord Harley