The drawing room doors open, cutting off our conversation, and in walks a middle-aged woman with chestnut brown hair similar to mine, except hers isn’t hanging loose down her back. It’s wrapped in a tight bun, pulled up and off her face. She’s wearing dark blue pants and a pale blue sweater. In the corner, just above her heart, a pink rose is embroidered with an overlapping monogram. I saw it on the front of Frank’s hat as well, and I see now that it’s made of two interlocking Cs, no doubt for Cornelia Cromwell.

I wonder if I’ll be wearing a similar uniform soon.

In the woman’s hands is a silver tray topped with a tiered tower of cookies, an ornate teapot, two cups and saucers, and a few plates of sandwiches. It’s enough food to feed ten people. I almost expect her to leave a few of the items and take the rest somewhere else, but she sets the entire thing down on the coffee table between us and then straightens, smiling at Cornelia.

“This looks wonderful, Patricia. Thank you.”

Patricia bows her head, casting me a quick smile before exiting the room on silent steps.

I wait for Cornelia to make the first move and watch as she pours us each a cup of tea with steady hands. I notice the way she keeps one of her hands carefully placed on the lid so it doesn’t fall off.

“Do you take milk and sugar?” she asks, gesturing to both.

“Um, yes. I think so.”

“Oh, that’s right. This is your first cup of tea, isn’t it? Well, if I were you, I’d go heavy on both. It can’t hurt you one bit anyway. You’re tiny, dear—liable to disappear into thin air. Here, have some cookies too. And a sandwich. Do you like salmon?”

I must make a disgusted face before I catch myself, but she doesn’t take offense.

“You’ll try it. That’s the polite thing to do when someone offers you food. One bite, that’s all.”

She fills a small china plate with a heaping mound of food and then holds it out for me to take.

There’s no need to urge me twice; I eat my way through the delicate finger foods—salmon sandwich and all—until I uncover the same gold monogram and its accompanying rose etched in the center of the plate.

When I’m done, I find Cornelia studying me. I reach forward to take a cotton napkin from the tea tray and dab it against my mouth. I realize now I probably should have slowed down instead of doing my best impression of a vacuum.

“I can’t help but notice you didn’t bring any of your things with you today,” she says, holding my gaze. “Did Frank already take your bags?”

“Bags?”

“Yes, with your clothes and toiletries.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to bring any of that with me.”

I’m still wearing my red purse. It’s all I thought I needed.

“Yes, well, no need. I would have likely had Collins toss most everything into the furnace anyway. What are those things you have on your legs?”

I look down in confusion.

“Jeans?”

Surely she’s seen denim before.

She furrows her brow. “They have so many holes in them. Is that because you’ve had them for so long they’re threadbare?”

I smile. “No, it’s the style.”

“Style.” She bats away the suggestion like it offends her. “No, dear, I’m afraid that’s not quite the right word.”

I can’t help but laugh. She’s clearly not much for subtlety. Maybe in some people that would rub me the wrong way, but with her I find it refreshing.

She reaches back to pick up her phone and dials out again. “Rita, can you come to the blue drawing room, please? I’d like you to show Maren to her suite.”

My mouth opens to correct her, but I wait until she’s hung up.

“I don’t need a suite.”

I’ve already put her out enough as it is.

That seems to upset her. “So you aren’t taking the job?”

“We haven’t even talked about a job,” I push. “Not really. You’ve fed me tea and cookies and mentioned I’d be your companion, but we haven’t talked about references or past job experience or…” I look away, slightly ashamed to bring it up. “Pay.”

“Of course. How rude of me not to mention that earlier. I think we’ll start with an allowance of one hundred a year and work up from there. Though if you think you’d need more, I’m sure we could figure something out.”

My jaw is gaping open so wide I’m surprised there’s no rug burn on my chin. “One hundred thousand?”

“Yes, dear.”

I blink rapidly as dollar signs swirl in my head. That’s more money than I’d earn in three years working at Holly Home. She can’t be serious.

“And as far as references, Annette had nothing but wonderful things to say about you, and I’ve witnessed your work ethic firsthand. I’m convinced you’ll make a splendid fit.”

Tags: R.S. Grey Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net