Then he turned and left the kitchen.
Mrs. Chester glanced at me and then looked away, afraid to be drawn too close to an impending disaster. I completed my work without any further comment. No one addressed me in the dining loom and I avoided Great-uncle Richard's eyes, not looking his way once. As soon as they all rose and left the dining room to go to the sitting room, I began to clear the table. With Mary Margaret not there, I had to help wash dishes, the pots and pans and put them all away.
"They all seemed to enjoy your dinner, Mrs. Chester," I said, noting the way the plates had been scraped clean.
She nodded.
"Will Mary Margaret be here tomorrow?" I asked.
"I hope so," she said. She kept looking at the door fearfully.
"You could probably get a job anywhere you wanted," I said. "With your talents in the kitchen, another family wou
ld feel very lucky."
She shook her head and turned to me.
"Without a recommendation, I'd be workin' in some hovel of a place and not make half as much. I do my work. I know my place and I get along," she said. "You oughta think about that."
"Maybe. The trouble is, Mrs. Chester, I don't know where my place is."
She looked at me very curiously, almost as if she was being sympathetic, and then she absorbed herself in her work and didn't say another word.
As I put away the last piece of silverware, Boggs came into the kitchen.
"Mr. Endfield wants a word with you," he said. "In his office. Now."
"Sent to the principal," I told Mrs. Chester, but she didn't understand. "I guess I'll be tossed out on the street."
I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and marched past Boggs. Whatever happens, happens, I thought. I'm tired of fighting with them all.
My Great-uncle Richard was seated behind his desk, his chair turned so he could gaze out the window. He was puffing on a cigar, the smoke twirling toward the ceiling where a ceiling fan seized it and spread it evenly throughout the room.
"You wanted to see me?" I asked.
He turned quickly and sat forward.
"Please close the door," he said.
I did so and he indicated the leather chair in front of his desk. I went to it and sat. He flicked his ash and then put the cigar down and clasped his hands over his stomach.
"When Leonora first told me she wanted to take you in, I wasn't wholly in favor of it," he began. "Our house runs like a Swiss timepiece, efficiently, successfully. It's a relief to know I don't have to worry about the domestic side of our lives. I have enough to do professionally and Leonora is not as strong as she was when she first came to England. That's why I'm glad we have Mr. Boggs."
"I'll leave tomorrow," I said.
He paused, blinked rapidly a moment and then shook his head.
"That's exactly why I wanted to see you. There you go speaking out of turn. Who told you I wanted you to leave?"
"I just thought..."
"You're probably right. I should want you to leave. You practically insulted my guest tonight with your sassy manner."
"Sassy?"
"You have good sense and poise when you're on the stage. Why can't you have it when you're off?"
"I am who I am," I said, tears burning at my eyes. I didn't know myself what that meant, except I liked the sound of it. After all, how many times a day could I be made to feel inferior?