Page 41 of The Maid's Secret

A chauffeur rushed me back to the manor once classes were over, as I was expected to be on display once the Braun Summit began. Mama and Papa insisted I join the staff receiving line, greeting the heads of the firm as they entered our well-appointed boardroom.

The harrowing ride home left me nauseated. The chauffeur had never driven a luxury vehicle before, which, he helpfully explained, did not ride at all like a horse. To make matters worse, when we pulled up to the manor, a procession of black cars already lined the semicircular drive, each awaiting its turn to drop off one of Braun’s corporate magnates, more dreaded men in black who, for better or for worse, were about to seal my family’s fate.

When at last my driver arrived at the manor’s stately entrance, Uncle Willy was not greeting guests at the door as usual. He’d been tasked with overseeing the boardroom procession, and in his place were two young footmen, one of them Uncle Willy’s son, looking exasperatingly dashing in a tailored black suit with a matching bow tie, his dark hair smoothed back, and for the first time ever wearing the appropriate amount of his father’seau de toilette.

As he helped me remove my coat, I begrudgingly delivered the headmaster’s message. “Your essay took top place,” I said.

“Really?” he replied. “And how did you do?”

“Second place,” I said, “not that it’s any of your business.”

He smiled ear to ear as he held my coat on one arm. “See? You should have studied with me when you had the chance. Us common folk are smarter than you think.”

If I’d had a scalpel in that moment, I would have taken swift pleasure in the surgical removal of his snarky, self-righteous grin. I rapidly changed the subject from his prize-worthy essay to the headmaster’s reminder about the assignment due in a few days—a paper on the application of an Aesop fable to a true-to-life situation. This was a task I’d been dreading because I simply could not see in any of the fables a correlation to the real world.

“I noticed Aesop’s book of fables was missing from Papa’s library. Might you be so kind as to promptly return my father’s book to its proper shelf so thatImight have the benefit of perusing it?” I asked the obnoxious Mr.Preston.

“Of course,” he said as he grabbed a hanger and eased my coat onto it. “I don’t need the book anymore because my essay’s finished.” He eyed me smugly as he clanked the hanger onto a rack.

“And which fable did you choose, might I ask?”

“The lion and the mouse,” he replied. “Do you know it?”

Indeed, I did. A tiny, insignificant mouse saves a fearsome lion by chewing through the hunter’s net to free it. The moral of the story? Even the powerless are mighty in the right circumstances.

“My offer of a study date stands,” said John quietly. “Who knows? I might be a mighty mouse who can free you from your academic tangle.”

Bile rose in my gorge. How dare he suggest I wasn’t perfectly capable of freeing myself! “That won’t be necessary,” I replied as I turned on my heel and marched away, but I quickly swiveled to face him and added, “Do remember to bow to your betters after taking their coats. I’m sure your father taught you that much.”

“Of course, Your Ladyship,” he replied. “Thank you ever so muchfor the reminder.” He bowed then, so obsequiously he all but kissed the floor.

I huffed in disgust as I walked away.

—

Following behind a funereal procession of my father’s men in black, I headed to the boardroom, which was at the very back of the manor, right across from the conservatory. It was a long, thin room, with wide-open double doors in front. The various directors from both firms were finding places at the table—Braun’s board on one side, and my father’s on the other. If you squinted, it would have been hard to tell the two sides apart, but there were subtle differences. Unlike Papa’s men, Magnus Braun’s men had removed their modern jackets and slung them on the backs of their chairs. They leaned back comfortably, whereas my father’s employees were as rigid as dominoes in a row—ready to be toppled with the flick of a finger.

Papa’s servants stood in a line on the Gray side of the room, an impressive show of strength and tradition. Uncle Willy was at the head, while Mrs.Mead and her maids, looking jittery and uncomfortable, graced the tail.

My mother greeted every guest who entered the boardroom with an ersatz smile. She wore a green A-line Chanel dress that showed off the small waist she was so proud of. She kept touching the double row of diamonds on her necklace, a piece so heavy it called to mind the yoke of a draft animal. She welcomed Braun’s men with all the false charm she could muster, but when I approached the double doors, her face fell.

“You’re wearing your school uniform,” she whispered as she clutched my wrist. “Get upstairs and change—quickly—then join the staff line.”

I heeded her command and hurried upstairs, changing into the dress Mrs.Mead had laid out on my bed—green, like my mother’s, with a low, scooped neckline. When I arrived back at the boardroom,the procession was over and my father was walking Magnus Braun to the head of the table. The servants held their places, and I joined the end of the line.

At the front of the boardroom, my father stood beside Magnus Braun, a man I’d heard so much about but had never laid eyes on. He was my father’s age, with piercing blue eyes and blond hair streaked with gray. Like a falcon accustomed to its high perch, he carried himself with an easy grace. He was the only man in the room wearing a colored suit—indigo blue, contemporary and Italian, nothing like my father’s traditional Savile Row.

Papa was just finishing a saccharine introduction, pontificating on the great glory of two powerful firms, alike in dignity, coming together for the good of all.

When he finished, Magnus spoke, his voice a precision blade. “This matter doesn’t require quite so much pomp and circumstance,” he said as he looked at the receiving line of servants standing awkwardly to one side. “Reginald, as you know, my board of directors conducted a thorough review of your company assets. Given your debt load and liabilities, we’re determined to purchase Gray Investments outright. In fact, the purchase was made this morning, which means the controlling interest now rests with Braun Financial, resulting in the official and immediate termination of your firm. All that’s required are signatures, though that’s a formality. Still,” he said, pulling out a Cartier pen from his breast pocket, “let’s get it done.”

My father’s eyes grew wide, an expression of abject shock claiming his face. “But this was avoidable,” he insisted. “My men have worked for weeks to pave a path toward an amicable merger between our firms. Is there no other way?”

“You’ve valuated your company on its past, not on its present, and you’re no longer worth what you say you are. We’ve given you ample time to produce further assets of value, and you’ve failed. Let me put it simply: you’ve got nothing I want,” Magnus said.

This elicited polite chortles from his men and coughs from my father’s.

Just then, the boardroom doors creaked open, and the two footmen serving in the front foyer—one of them Mr.Preston Junior—attempted to enter stealthily.

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