CHAPTER 3
Fitting In
“This'd be faster if you'd hold still," Jenny complained around the pins pressed between her lips.
"It'd be faster if you knew what you were doing," Alix corrected, half-turning to watch the maid in the dressing-room mirrors.
"Fie, I can't take in this waistband with you twisted around."
Alix bit back her exasperation. "You've got a pucker there," she noted instead.
"Fie!"
At least the painful bruising on her throat had abated, although she still dared no more than a whisper, considering the maid's constant admonition about eavesdroppers.
Jenny hesitated at a soft knock on the serving door.
"Hush, who's that?" "Maybe it's lunch."
"Is food all you think about?" Jenny peered around the edge of the wardrobe. "It's too early for the chambermaids."
"Why don't you answer it?"
Jenny pushed her pins into the pincushion as the caller rapped again. "Wait here."
"Don't worry." Alix retreated to dressing couch. The mirror on the open wardrobe door reflected the mirror near the dressing screen. She retrieved her lukewarm tea to watch the combined reflections of the maid as Jenny smoothed her apron, adjusted her cap, and then opened the door. An impressive gentleman waited on the opposite side, with his hand poised to knock again. Either he was in a hurry or his insistence proved he was unaccustomed to waiting-an air that lent his rank importance. From his impeccable appearance, Alix guessed his position was significant indeed. Although he was strikingly well presented, Lily's maid was unimpressed by his interruption.
He smiled belatedly. "Good morning."
Alix immediately liked his smooth baritone voice, but Jenny's brevity quickly established he was not a gentleman caller. "Yes?"
"I have a few errands to run down in Mayfair. I thought you might need to go that way as well."
"No."
Although Alix winced at her curtness, Jenny's flat reply left the man unscathed. "More's the pity," he replied pleasantly. "Percival didn't have the Tuesday shopping list from you, so I thought you might've planned to go out."
"No, but thank you," Jenny concluded, moving to close the door.
"I say," he interjected smoothly.
Had he put his foot in the door? From what Alix could glean by the slice of reflection showing Jenny's expression, she appeared perturbed.
"Yes?"
"Since I am going in that direction, I don't suppose you have your shopping list ready."
"No," Jenny stated flatly, and pushed the door closed.
Alix lowered her eyes to her teacup and assumed an innocent tone. "It wasn't lunch?"
Jenny frowned disparagingly at the door. "It was Albert Frisk."
"Oh, I see."
"No, you don't see," Jenny countered precipitously. "The man is a bounder. He must be growing tired of his little Martha if he's decided to pick on me."
"Albert Frisk has an eye for ladies?"
"That's putting it lightly." Jenny snatched the pincushion. "Up with you now; let's finish this skirt."
Alix obeyed meekly. "Who's Martha?" "Martha's one of the upstairs maids." "Is Albert Frisk a chamberlain?"
"No, he is Lord Griffon's man."
"Oh." Alix recalculated her assessment. If Lily's husband employed a ladies' man, what did that say for Nicholas? Lily maintained her husband was a preening peacock, but so far, Alix had a different impression.
"He's as slippery as an eel. He probably wouldn't even work here, except he was born to his position."
"You're creating another tuck there," Alix noted gently.
"His parents were milord's personal servants, God rest their souls. They say Albert Frisk grew to manhood with milord. He thinks he's above the others, just because he's been to school with His Lordship."
"I see."
"Of course, his father is retired on the family estate up north. I don't know what milady told you," Jenny sniffed, appraising Alix carefully. "The old lord died a short time after his wife was lost at sea."
"How tragic."
"Yes. Apparently the gaffer did not feel the same way about his wife, because after their drowning, he's survived to a ripe age, hasn't he?"
"You are speaking of Albert Frisk's father?"
"Yes. They call him the old gaffer up north. He's well respected, mind you, but that son flies high on his father's coattails. Up all hours, gambling and chasing skirts-he's taken full advantage of his position. Men all think alike, and don't try to tell me otherwise. I have raised four brothers, haven't I? I know how they sniff around, looking for a likely partner in crime."
"Is that so?" Alix sighed.
"Hold still. I'm almost finished," Jenny sniffed, tugging on the waistband. "He even has Percival Winston putting wagers on horses. Fie, a man in his position-I don't know how Mary puts up with it."
Alix stifled a sigh. "Who's Mary?" "Mary Winston, the cook."
"Oh."
"I'd not stand for such nonsense for more than five minutes."
"Cooking?"
"No, gambling! Do you ever think about anything but eating? We're wasting time if I'm only going to let everything out again. There, I think we've finished, but I don't know . . . it needs a little something."
Alix twisted to look at the uneven alteration. "Perhaps tossing it out would be reasonable."
"This skirt is going to take some doing. Here's your dressing gown-hurry up and change."
"You didn't mark any buttonholes. How am I supposed to get out?"
"Oh, bother! You're pinned in? Fie, you need an entire new wardrobe! Wherever you're from, it's a pity they didn't feed you better! No wonder all you can talk about is food. Hold still and let me undo this; you can't wear a single skirt for every occasion."
Alix did not dissent, but her problem had nothing to do with eating; it was searching for Robbie's land grant without anyone wondering why she was r ummaging through cupboards.
"There's your lunch," Jenny noted, detecting activity in the sitting room. "Minnie's cousin just opened a dressmaking shop down on Kindly Street. When we took tea together last week, she said her cousin's taking new clients. You'll need something to wear for the evenings, and don't forget appearances at tea."
"Thank you for reminding me to ask the butler to cancel upcoming engagements."
"We can't forget the ball at Clarence House! Fie, what day is today?"
"Don't worry, I'll ask him to decline that, too."
Jenny hurried past Alix to look cautiously into the hall. "Have you forgotten you're to go with milord?"
Alix paused while inspecting her plate. "Lord Griffon?" Jenny closed the door swiftly. "Your husband," she hissed, rushing to take control of the tray. "It looks like I'll have to go out after all. Sit down so I can arrange this properly. It shouldn't take very long for Minnie's cousin to fit you in."
Alix's spirits lifted; while Jenny was away, she would finally be able to search for Robbie's grant. She tarried through a lunch better forgotten and nearly bolted from her chair the moment she heard the maid leave through the dressing room. Halfway up, she remembered the swarm of servants working in the enormous house, any one of whom might be watching her through an odd keyhole or slender slice of door.
She finished her wine and made a deliberate show of folding her napkin before going to the desk. There, she pulled aside the lace curtain to watch a brown spaniel lead someone's butler down the street. Feeling she had pretended long enough, Alix let the curtain drop and sank into the desk chair. The little drawer in the hutch contained a misplaced thimble among the nibs of pens. A variety of fine stationery and card stock was stacked in the organizer, but her interest was in the daunting disarray of correspondence in the drawer.
She was on her knees on the floor with a half-sorted lapful of<