He continued on about the new building, barely stopping for breath, and she drank down her tea quickly, grateful for the liquid on her parched throat. Finally, he pulled out his watch. “I must go. We leave very soon, heading back to New York. I say, you wouldn’t want to work at the Dakota, would you?”
Her cup clattered against the saucer. She’d looked up when he’d spoken and missed the center.
He laughed. “I see I caught you unawares. We’re in need of a head housekeeper, and you are obviously well qualified. New York City is an exciting place, I promise. I could mention your name to Mr. Douglas, the building’s agent.”
His words came tumbling out, as if he’d only just thought of the idea. Perhaps he had. Typical American boldness. It was a ridiculous suggestion, going to another country when she had a perfectly good job here, even if Mr. Birmingham was never pleased.
“I’m quite happy where I am, Mr. Camden. But thank you for the offer.”
“I’m serious.” His voice and visage grew animated as he worked through the details. “I’m going to send you a formal letter when I get back, as well as fare to come over. The opening is set for the end of October. Consider the idea. It’s the least I could do, after what you did for my family today. Will you consider it?”
She shook her head. He was caught up in the moment, an impulsive American like many others she’d encountered at the Langham. Too loud, too close, no sense of propriety.
“No, Mr. Camden. But thank you. Please let me know if there’s anything else you need during your stay. Good day.”
After he’d left, she shut the door behind him and went to the window. The one to room 510 was firmly shut, curtains drawn. Good.
She’d had more than enough excitement for one day.
CHAPTER TWO
Fishbourne, August 1884
“I really don’t know why you bothered to come; I’m perfectly fine.”
Sara’s mother pulled the wool blanket around herself with trembling hands, and Sara stifled the impulse to jump up and arrange it around the woman’s sloping shoulders. Doing so would only cause further aggravation.
She took a sip from her sherry glass. “I come this time every year. Remember? My holiday from the hotel.”
“Of course I remember; I’m not losing my faculties, Sara.” Her blue eyes settled on her daughter, lips turned down in a perpetual frown. “I just don’t see what the point is. You might as well stay in London and work your fingers to the bone, since that’s what you enjoy doing. I have every mind to speak to his lordship about this.”
They were gathered around the fire at the cottage in Fishbourne, where her mother had settled years ago after leaving her position at the estate of the Earl of Chichester, forty miles to the east. Even during the long evenings of August, the house stayed as chilly as a November morning, as if the walls, like her mother, repelled any warmth from the outside.
Sara attempted to guide her back to the present day. “You no longer work for his lordship, remember? It’s been thirty years.” The number was an easy one to remember.
Her mother shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” Her words seemed far away, as if she were speaking down a long tunnel.
“Now I’m head housekeeper at the Langham, just as you were at Stanmer House.”
“Why you’d want to take after your mother when I gave you every chance of bettering yourself is beyond me.” She waved a hand. “Pour me more sherry.”
Even before her mind grew soft, her mother had commanded Sara and her charwoman, who was paid with a good portion of Sara’s wages, without a “please” or “thank you.” Perhaps she lived a different life in her imagination, one where his lordship made her his countess after getting her with child, instead of the reality, where she toiled day in and day out until her shaking made even holding a teacup untenable.
After refilling the glass, Sara held it to her mother’s lips, then sat on the settee and picked up a ragged petticoat that needed mending. She could feel her mother’s eyes on her fingers as she deftly fixed the rip at the seam.
“Your stitches are better than mine.”
A compliment. Sara kept her eyes down, knowing that she could easily ruin the moment. “Thank you, Mum.”
“I still don’t know why you left Mrs. Ainsworth to go to London. Your hands could have made a fortune.”
“It wasn’t a good fit.”
“You tossed over an opportunity, if you ask me. Mrs. Ainsworth’s husband died three months ago, did I tell you that? Got run over by a carriage.”
Probably driven by one of the women who’d apprenticed with his wife. Sara would have run him over herself, given the chance.
“London suits me. The Langham is a first-class hotel. As big as Stanmer House, but so many more people come through every day.”
“But are they the right sort of people?”
“They ought to be, if they can afford fifteen shillings a night for a room.” They had this conversation every year, and Sara couldn’t help but defend her decision.
“You work in a hotel. Fancy or not, it’s no place for a good girl. Money’s no sign of good breeding.”
“Nor is good breeding an indication of morality.”
Her mother gave a sharp intake of breath. Sara looked up, an apology on the edge of her lips, but her mother spoke quickly. “You don’t know a thing about it.”
“Of course, Mum.” To change the subject, she blurted out the next thing that came to mind. “I’ve been given a new opportunity.” She’d put off mentioning the letter she’d received from Mr. Camden since arriving at her mother’s, knowing it might increase her contempt. But now she had something to prove.
“Eh? What’s that?”
“To work as a head housekeeper at a grand apartment house in New York City.”
There. She’d said it.
Her mother’s face curdled. “In the States?”
“Yes. You see, the child of a guest almost fell out a window, and I happened to see her and save her and the father was so appreciative, he offered me this position.”
Her mother remained silent for a moment. Sara tied a knot in the thread and folded up the petticoat, smoothing the dingy material on her lap. She would give it a good wash tomorrow.
She had to admit that she’d been shocked to receive the letter formally asking her to come abroad and a ticket for second-class passage on a ship from Liverpool, as well as a check to cover her expenses. Mr. Camden had asked her to consider the offer and, if she decided not to take it, to send the monies and ticket back. She found the fact that he’d trusted her to do so quite unusual, as their acquaintance had been so brief.