Her Royal Spyness by Rhys Bowen

Does she want me to dust and make beds and light fires myself? Then I realized that it probably had never occurred to Hilda that I was living here without servants. She obviously expected that I had hired a maid by now.
    After I had calmed down, I supposed it wasn’t such an unreasonable request. I was able-bodied enough to take off a few dust sheets and even run a carpet sweeper over a floor or two, wasn’t I? I had grown up never having to make my own bed, never having got myself a glass of water until I went to school, but I was capable of doing both. I was making splendid progress really. I hadn’t actually attempted to light a fire yet, of course, even though Granddad had given me the most basic instruction the previous day. It was the thought of that coal’ole, as he called it—the dreaded coal cellar replete with spiders—that put me off. But it would have to be tackled sometime. With all those ancestors who fought at Bannock Burn and Waterloo and every battle in between, I should have inherited enough spunk to face a coal cellar. Tomorrow was Sunday, when I was expected for lunch with my grandfather. I’d have him take me through the complete fire-lighting experience. Never let it be said that a Rannoch was defeated by anything!

    On Sunday morning I was up, bright and early, ready to tackle my task. I put on an apron I found hanging in a cupboard below stairs and I tied a scarf around my hair. It was actually quite fun to whip off dust sheets and shake them out of the window. I was dancing around with the feather duster when there was a knock at the front door. I didn’t stop to think about the way I was dressed as I opened it and found Belinda on the doorstep.
    “Is her ladyship at home to callers?” she asked, then she started as she recognized me. “Georgie! What on earth? Are you auditioning for the role of Cinderella?”
    “What? Oh, this.” I glanced down at the feather duster. “On the orders of my dear sister-in-law. She wants me to get the house ready for the arrival of my dear brother, the duke, tomorrow. Come on in.” I led her down the hallway and up the stairs to the morning room. The windows were open and a fresh breeze stirred the lace curtains.
    “Do sit down,” I said. “The seat has been newly dusted.”
    She looked at me as if I had turned into a new and dangerous creature. “Surely she didn’t mean that you were to take it upon yourself personally to clean the house?”
    “I’m afraid that’s exactly what she did mean. Do take a seat.”
    “What was she thinking?” Belinda sat.
    “I think the word for my sister-in-law is frugal, at best. She didn’t want to pay for the extra train tickets to send down the servants ahead of Binky. She reminded me of my grace and favor status, thereby suggesting that I owed Her Grace a favor.”
    “What nerve,” Belinda exclaimed.
    “My own sentiments exactly, but she obviously assumes I’ve hired a maid by now. She gave me a long lecture on the untrustworthiness of Londoners and how I should check all references.”
    “Why didn’t you bring a maid with you?”
    “Fig wouldn’t release one of ours and frankly I couldn’t afford to pay her anyway. But, you know, it’s not too bad. In fact it’s been quite fun. I’m getting rather good at it. It must be that humble ancestry on my mother’s side coming out but one gets quite a satisfaction from polishing things.”
    Then suddenly it was as if I was hit with a flash of divine inspiration. “Wait,” I said. “I’ve just had a marvelous idea—I wanted a paying job, didn’t I? I could do this for other people and be paid for it.”
    “Georgie! I’m all for standing on your own feet, but there are limits. A member of the house of Windsor acting as a char lady? My dear, think of the stink there would be when it was found out.”
    “They don’t need to know it’s actually me, do they?” I gave a couple of whisks with the feather duster as I warmed up to the idea. “I can