done, she finally had the women on her side.
From that point on, events had moved swiftly. Early the next morning, Mrs. Stein sent a note to Mrs. Voss asking if she could use the services of a reliable housemaid. By midday, she had received a gracious note in return asking if the servant in question could start early that Friday morning. Annie then had sent Jamie with a notice to the Chronicle announcing that, as of Friday, Madam Sibyl would be out of town for a week. Annie certainly hoped this wouldn’t lose her too many clients, but the consequences were so much worse if she had to sell the house that she felt the temporary loss of income was necessary.
After dinner, Kathleen had gone through Annie’s clothes, picking out what would be suitable for a maid, and added one of her own starched aprons and caps to the suitcase that Annie was assembling. Kathleen also promised that she would try to track down the servant, Nellie, who had left her job right after Matthew’s death. She seemed to feel Nellie could tell them more than Annie would ever find out in a few days’ snooping. At this point, Annie couldn’t help but think she was right. The rest of the evening had been spent with Beatrice and Kathleen trying to tell her everything they thought she should know to pull off her masquerade.
Rubbing her sore right shoulder, Annie again thought how foolish she had been to dismiss their concerns. It turned out there was an enormous difference between managing a servant and being one. A muffled noise outside in the hallway brought Annie sharply back to the present, and she swiftly got to her feet. By the time the dining room door opened, she had stood up and was busily engaged in sweeping imaginary crumbs from the tablecloth. Her heart beating furiously, she turned and bobbed a short curtsey to the woman who had entered. She then covertly examined the older woman who was surveying the room. Up close, Miss Nancy Voss looked even more like a washed-out version of her brother Matthew. Somewhere in her late fifties, with a tall, spare frame and ramrod-straight back, Miss Voss had encased herself in an uncompromising mourning that eliminated any life or color that might ever have existed in the shades of grey that dominated her hair, skin, and eyes.
Miss Voss broke the silence with a voice that reminded Annie of flint. "That will do, girl. You can return to your duties in the kitchen now. You did all right tonight serving at dinner, a sight better than you did at ironing Master Jeremy's shirts this afternoon. Remember in the future that you mustn't let them get too dry, or the creases will never come out."
"Yes, Miss," responded Annie, who curtsied again and then left Nancy Voss staring into the dying embers in the room's large ornate fireplace. She longed to stay and talk to the older woman, but she had already discovered that in this household, except when acknowledging an order, servants were to be seen and not heard. So Annie did as she had been directed and made her way down the stairs to the kitchen.
"No gossiping with the other servants!" That was one of Cartier's rules, although Annie had noticed she had plenty to say, but it was all about Annie's duties as a servant. In contrast, the other servant in the household, the Chinese manservant Wong, had spoken not a word to her the whole time she'd been here, even when they had worked together getting dinner ready. She wasn't even sure he spoke English.
As for the Voss family itself, well! She hadn't gotten a glimpse of Matthew’s son, Jeremy, who appeared to have taken up permanent residence at his club. And Matthew's grieving widow, Amelia Voss, hadn't yet left her room; Cartier took all her meals to her. Except for a short visit from the dressmaker, who came to the house to do the final fitting for the new black mourning dresses that she had ordered, Mrs. Voss wasn't seeing anyone. This meant the only member of the family Annie had had any contact with had been
From that point on, events had moved swiftly. Early the next morning, Mrs. Stein sent a note to Mrs. Voss asking if she could use the services of a reliable housemaid. By midday, she had received a gracious note in return asking if the servant in question could start early that Friday morning. Annie then had sent Jamie with a notice to the Chronicle announcing that, as of Friday, Madam Sibyl would be out of town for a week. Annie certainly hoped this wouldn’t lose her too many clients, but the consequences were so much worse if she had to sell the house that she felt the temporary loss of income was necessary.
After dinner, Kathleen had gone through Annie’s clothes, picking out what would be suitable for a maid, and added one of her own starched aprons and caps to the suitcase that Annie was assembling. Kathleen also promised that she would try to track down the servant, Nellie, who had left her job right after Matthew’s death. She seemed to feel Nellie could tell them more than Annie would ever find out in a few days’ snooping. At this point, Annie couldn’t help but think she was right. The rest of the evening had been spent with Beatrice and Kathleen trying to tell her everything they thought she should know to pull off her masquerade.
Rubbing her sore right shoulder, Annie again thought how foolish she had been to dismiss their concerns. It turned out there was an enormous difference between managing a servant and being one. A muffled noise outside in the hallway brought Annie sharply back to the present, and she swiftly got to her feet. By the time the dining room door opened, she had stood up and was busily engaged in sweeping imaginary crumbs from the tablecloth. Her heart beating furiously, she turned and bobbed a short curtsey to the woman who had entered. She then covertly examined the older woman who was surveying the room. Up close, Miss Nancy Voss looked even more like a washed-out version of her brother Matthew. Somewhere in her late fifties, with a tall, spare frame and ramrod-straight back, Miss Voss had encased herself in an uncompromising mourning that eliminated any life or color that might ever have existed in the shades of grey that dominated her hair, skin, and eyes.
Miss Voss broke the silence with a voice that reminded Annie of flint. "That will do, girl. You can return to your duties in the kitchen now. You did all right tonight serving at dinner, a sight better than you did at ironing Master Jeremy's shirts this afternoon. Remember in the future that you mustn't let them get too dry, or the creases will never come out."
"Yes, Miss," responded Annie, who curtsied again and then left Nancy Voss staring into the dying embers in the room's large ornate fireplace. She longed to stay and talk to the older woman, but she had already discovered that in this household, except when acknowledging an order, servants were to be seen and not heard. So Annie did as she had been directed and made her way down the stairs to the kitchen.
"No gossiping with the other servants!" That was one of Cartier's rules, although Annie had noticed she had plenty to say, but it was all about Annie's duties as a servant. In contrast, the other servant in the household, the Chinese manservant Wong, had spoken not a word to her the whole time she'd been here, even when they had worked together getting dinner ready. She wasn't even sure he spoke English.
As for the Voss family itself, well! She hadn't gotten a glimpse of Matthew’s son, Jeremy, who appeared to have taken up permanent residence at his club. And Matthew's grieving widow, Amelia Voss, hadn't yet left her room; Cartier took all her meals to her. Except for a short visit from the dressmaker, who came to the house to do the final fitting for the new black mourning dresses that she had ordered, Mrs. Voss wasn't seeing anyone. This meant the only member of the family Annie had had any contact with had been
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