The Queen's Dollmaker by Christine Trent Page B

furiously for her employer’s evening meal. Between Mrs. Ashby’s sly servants and her arrogant male guests, Claudette could not find a moment’s peace.
     
    Jack was true to his word, and sold the first three dolls Claudette had given him in less than a week. She now had four shillings in profit, and tried to give half of it to Béatrice, but the other woman insisted that Claudette keep it. “I have no head for money,” she said. “You keep it and use it to help us find a way out of this wretched house.”
    Claudette jingled the coins in her hands, elated to have a tiny bit of money that Mrs. Ashby knew nothing about, then tumbled the coins into an envelope stored in her small chest of doll supplies. The chest was kept hidden under her bed.
    As Jack found more and more outlets for selling the dolls, Claudette and Béatrice spent many more sleepless nights producing them. They were exhausted, but Jack kept requesting more, and the shillings were piling up in the chest. He never discussed what he was doing with his share of the profits, and the women instinctively knew not to ask. After all, they shared nothing with him, either.
    Jassy could frequently be seen lurking outside their doors, eyes opening innocently when caught. She always offered an excuse for her presence—“Mrs. Lundy needs you to go with her to the butcher’s,” or “The mistress needs a button sewn”—but was obviously swept away with curiosity as to why Claudette and Béatrice were retreating to their tiny rooms as often as possible.
    When she had saved a little money, Claudette gave some to Jack to go out and purchase an additional set of carving and painting tools, so that she and Béatrice could work on two dolls at once. Claudette usually had to help Béatrice through each step. What Béatrice lacked in experience, she more than made up for in enthusiasm and a desire to help. Her chatter while they worked usually centered on saving enough to get their own place. Claudette’s thoughts, kept to herself, stayed firmly focused on saving enough money to return to France and find Jean-Philippe.
     
    Each year at Easter, Maude Ashby brought both her family and servants to St. George the Martyr’s for services. After assisting the Ashby family to their seats, the servants were sent back to a rear pew to bask in Mrs. Ashby’s generosity. The current year was no exception to the routine.
    The Ashby household arrived just before services were to start, and all of the servants, Claudette and Béatrice included, walked to the front of the church and waited stoically while the Ashbys settled themselves. At the last moment, Maude signaled to Claudette that she should sit in the high-backed, carved oak pew with the family.
    Claudette attempted to settle her trepidation over what was happening. Why wasn’t she released with the other servants? Was this some interesting new form of punishment?
    She watched as the other servants retreated to the back under the staring eyes of the good reverend and the congregation. Jassy Brickford, her eyes slitted and stormy, hissed at Claudette as she walked by, “Well ain’t you just the duchess!”
    Mrs. Lundy discreetly pinched the girl to move her along, but also shot Claudette a look of derision.
    Across from Claudette, Maude leaned over to her husband and whispered, “Did you see, James? Everyone is awestruck by how many servants we have now.”
    “My dear, everyone is stricken, but probably because they are appalled that we paraded—”
    “And Reverend Daniels must be overly impressed, to see his little orphan girl being treated so specially by us. We must be sure to tell him afterward that she has been elevated to lady’s maid.”
    “I hardly think he cares if—”
    “I wonder if we should place him on the invitation list for our next garden tea. It would lend an air of holy approval, don’t you think?”
    “Well, I—”
    Their conversation was interrupted by the start of the service. As Reverend