“Yes, see to her,” Mr. Lawrence agreed.
Suddenly everyone at the table was talking at once in discreet but excited tones. Apparently everyone had an embarrassing tale to tell concerning hasty retreats and it was all Sapphire could do not to laugh.
As time passed, Sapphire continued to serve the dessert, but not Clarice nor her mother nor Myra returned. Sapphire was just beginning to remove dishes from the table when Blake rose and announced the ladies would retire to the keeping room and the men would have a cigar in his office. She had almost gotten past him with a tray of dishes to be carried to the kitchen when he caught her sleeve and in plain sight of his guests leaned over and whispered in her ear.
“Tell me you are not part of my guest’s illness.”
Sapphire looked up at him innocently, batting her eyelashes the same way she had seen Clarice do it. “Why, Mr. Thixton,” she said, “I am but a lowly servant. What could I possibly have to do with Miss Lawrence’s illness?” She then met his gaze directly. “Perhaps it’s just the ill-humors of her personality coming out.”
For a moment Sapphire thought Blake was going to smile. Instead, he scowled. “I want to talk to you later,” he grumbled under his breath.
“Certainly, Mr. Thixton.” She bobbed a quick curtsy and then sidestepped him, hurrying out of the dining room with the tray before he could stop her again.
An hour later, Myra finally appeared in the kitchen.
“’Bout time you decided to do a little work,” Mrs. Porter snapped as soon as she came through the swinging doors.
“One of Mr. Thixton’s guests fell ill and Mrs. Dedrick told me to stay with her, case she needed something,” Myra said without so much as a smile.
With a harrumph, Mrs. Porter turned away and Myra darted toward Sapphire, grabbed her arm and rushed her out the back door and into the enclosed courtyard.
As they stepped outside, Sapphire took a deep breath of the summer air, cooler than that inside the house. Myra turned in a circle, burst into laughter and then covered her mouth with her hands.
“So it worked?” Sapphire asked with a chuckle.
“Worked? I spent the last hour standin’ outside the outhouse.” She burst into laughter. “She couldn’t come out. Must have been filled right to her eyeballs with ill-humors.”
Sapphire tried hard not to laugh. “No,” she whispered.
Myra nodded rapidly. “Finally Mrs. Lawrence had the mister bring the carriage ’round back. I brought towels and a washbowl just like I was asked, but ’pparently Miss Lawrence’s white gown wasn’t so white no more.”
Sapphire stared at Myra.
“Well, it’s a long hike to the outdoor pot when you’re runnin’ for it.”
Sapphire choked on her laughter. “And you didn’t just take her upstairs to B—Mr. Thixton’s bathing room?”
In her excitement, thankfully, Myra didn’t catch Sapphire’s slip of the tongue.
“Let her use Mr. Thixton’s fancy flushin’ necessary? Certainly not! Not when you and me the ones cleanin’ that room.”
Sapphire couldn’t help herself. She burst into laughter, throwing her arms around Myra. “I don’t believe Miss Lawrence will be seducing anyone for at least a few days.”
Myra wrapped her arms around Sapphire and they did a little spinning dance. “I don’t believe she will be,” she laughed, imitating Sapphire perfectly.
Sapphire nearly made it safely to bed without encountering Blake. Almost. After the cook and other servants had turned in, leaving Myra and Sapphire to put away the last of the freshly washed china, Mrs. Dedrick appeared in the doorway removing her apron, which always remained white no matter how long a day she’d had. “You, new gihl, Molly. Mr. Thixton is not pleased with the state of his bedchambah and bathing room. He wants fresh linens at once.”
“I’ll do it,” Myra said, squeezing Sapphire’s hand. “He gets into these moods.”
Sapphire wanted to tell her friend how well aware she was of Blake’s moods, especially concerning her, but she didn’t dare. “No, you go to bed. I’ll take care of it.”
“He can be darn stinkin’ picky when he gets himself like this.”
Sapphire handed Myra the last stack of lovely Irish porcelain dinner dishes. “No, you had outhouse duty. I’ll see to this.”
“Just see it’s done right,” Mrs. Dedrick ordered sourly. “I am retiring.”
“To have a little nip of ’er gin bottle,” Myra whispered, standing beside Sapphire, waiting at attention for the housekeeper to go.