“I don’t need help dressing,” I said to them both. “I solved the mystery of how to button a shirt long ago.”
“Help him,” Mott repeated.
Errol looked at me, silently pleading with me to accept the order so he wouldn’t have to face Mott. I sighed loudly enough for Mott to take notice of my annoyance, and then nodded my head at Errol. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Mott waited outside. Errol shut the door and began rummaging through the drawers of my wardrobe while I explored the room. Mrs. Turbeldy could have crammed every boy at the orphanage into a room of this size, and it seemed like a waste of space to have only three beds in here. In sharp contrast to anything I ever experienced at the orphanage, the mattresses on these beds were deep and the blankets thick. Each bed had a small wardrobe beside it, and a desk was near the center of the room, facing a fireplace. The thought that I might never again have to live like I had at the orphanage filled my mind. If only that new life wouldn’t come at such a high price.
“Which is my bed?” I asked.
Errol pointed to one at the far end of the room. “That one.”
“I want this one, near the window.”
“That was meant for Master Roden.”
“Master Roden?”
Errol missed the sarcasm. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, Master Roden can have my bed. I’m taking this one next to the window.”
“Master Roden has already been informed that this is his bed.”
I pulled the covers apart and then spit on the pillow. “Tell him what I’ve done. If he still wants it, he’ll be sleeping with my spit.”
Errol smiled. “Yes, sir. Are you ready to dress?”
I held out my arms and let Errol do the work. He worked quickly and quietly, which only made me feel more ridiculous.
“Errol, while we ate, there was a server girl. About my age, dark hair, dark eyes.”
“Her name is Imogen, sir. She came to us a year ago.”
“How?”
“Conner raised the rent on her family’s home. They fell further and further into debt. Conner made an offer for Imogen to come work the debt off, though with the high rates on her family’s home, she never will.”
“Why her?”
“Most of us think it’s revenge. Imogen’s mother is widowed. Conner proposed marriage to her years ago, but she refused. Some believe he wanted Imogen here so he could marry her instead when she became of age, but he quickly lost interest and assigned her to the kitchen.”
“Why?”
“She’s a mute, sir. Not particularly bright, either. She performs her duties but will never be anything more than a kitchen servant. There, you’re dressed.”
I laughed as I looked down at my nightclothes. Maybe I was too accustomed to sleeping in my clothes, but I felt overdressed.
“What’s this?” I asked, tugging at the outer garment.
“A robe. You’ll remove this before actually getting into the bed.”
“But I’m right here. I’m three steps from my bed.”
Errol smiled again. Something about me frequently amused him. “Would you like me to remove the robe for you?”
“No. I’ll do it myself.”
“Can I do anything else for you tonight?”