Buckingham Palace Gardens by Anne Perry

been in that position herself, but she knew exactly what he meant. What she did not know was whether he was right, and Ada was perfectly willing. Either way, Gracie’s presence here would make an enemy for life of at least one of them, most likely both. And she was doing badly enough with Ada as it was. She found herself hot with embarrassment that she might accidentally witness something she would very much rather not.
    â€œCheeky!” Ada said warmly. “I don’t know nothin’ o’ the kind! You fancy yerself way too much, Mr. Edwards, an’ that’s a fact.”
    â€œNot ’alf as much as I fancy you!” he retorted. “’Old still, then!”
    They had not seen Gracie yet, but a couple of steps farther down into the laundry and they would. Worse, they would realize that she had to have heard them. What would she do? She was revolted at the thought of hiding in one of the baskets, full of other people’s dirty sheets. She might even get marked with blood herself, and how would she explain that? But she had to have these sheets for Pitt. There was no other way out of here, just the one flight of stairs, and Ada and Edwards were already at the foot of it. If Gracie had not been so small, and bent double half behind the linen basket, they would have seen her by now.
    She must hide the sheets safely: That was more important than saving herself from embarrassment, or even bullying in the future. It was only for a few days, after all! But how? What could she do to distract their attention? She stared around at the shelves with all their jars and packets, then at the big copper tubs bubbling away with the sheets and towels in them. If she opened the flue on the boiler, it would roar up quickly. There would be steam all over the place—perhaps even a small flood. She could hide the embroidered sheets, stuff them in the bran tub temporarily, and when Ada and Edwards were busy trying to stop the flood, she could come from the bottom of the stairs as if she had just arrived. It might work. It had to.
    She crouched behind the basket and reached for the long wooden spirtle that was used to stir the linen around. It would be just long enough to reach the flue, if she were very careful. Her arm ached with the weight of holding it up from one end and keeping it steady. She must make no sudden moves or it might catch their notice.
    Ada was giggling more loudly and Edwards was talking softly to her the whole time. If Gracie didn’t do something pretty soon, this was going to get worse. The spirtle was long and awkward. There were tears of frustration in her eyes by the time she finally hit the flue open. Then the spirtle slipped out of her grip and clattered to the floor.
    Miraculously neither of them took any notice. If she got caught now, Ada would never forgive her. She could not afford that. Ada hated her enough already. Gracie had wild thoughts of finishing up in the linen cupboard like the prostitute. Had she also seen something that she shouldn’t have, poor soul? Was that what had got her killed? It was about the only reason that made any sense. But what could she have seen here that anyone cared about? They seemed to do anything they wanted to anyway.
    Seconds ticked by. Ada was resisting, thank heaven, playing a game. Gracie had no idea where to look for Pitt. Could she ask Mr. Tyndale to find him?
    Steam belched out of the copper and the lid banged up and down with the force of it. It happened a second time before Ada realized what it was and gave a yelp of horror. Edwards must have thought it was something he had done, because he laughed.
    â€œThe copper’s on too ’igh, stupid!” Ada shouted, as steam billowed out and filled the room. “Come an’ ’elp me get it off!”
    As she plunged forward, yanking her dress straight as she went, Gracie slipped through the steam toward the stairs, then turned around rapidly, and gasped with