Page 75 of The Maid's Secret

“Sure,” he replied, looking at me briefly before turning his attention to the two rifle cases slung over his shoulder.

“It’s torrential out there,” said Priscilla as she wordlessly passed her umbrella and overcoat to Uncle Willy. “I can’t believe you silly boys want to hunt in this atrocious weather.”

“The call of the wild, Prissy,” said Algernon. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I suggested swapping the hunt for a gentlemanly poker game in the drawing room, but Reginald’s having none of it,” said Mama. “Oh, here he is now.”

Papa strode into the foyer dressed in a tweed plaid jacket and matching hat, waterproof breeches, and tall black boots.

Magnus and Algernon suppressed a laugh, though Papa failed to notice.

“There’s tea and delectables,” said Mama, “to warm you before you set out.”

We made our way to the banquet room, where the table was laid with fine white linen. Silver serving trays were filled with dainty sandwiches, macarons, and scones, all of which Mrs.Mead and Penelope had been preparing for days.

“Take a seat,” said Papa. The Brauns drew up chairs, and Algernon reached for a scone, heaping it with jam and devouring it in two quick bites.

“A healthy appetite, I see,” Mrs.Mead said, bringing the scones closer to him.

“Always,” Algie replied.

“Speaking of appetites,” said Mrs.Mead. “Do you know the Farquars?”

The Brauns stiffened at the mention of the name. It was so unthinkable for Mrs.Mead, a maid, to initiate conversation with guests that Mama and Papa swiveled to face her.

“We don’t know them,” said Algernon in a monotone drawl.

“Well, we do,” his mother corrected. “But we’re not close.”

“Oh? You must have run into them at the ball,” Mrs.Mead said. “I understand their daughter went to college with your son, until—”

Magnus now turned to Mrs.Mead. “How do you know that?” he demanded.

“Oh, you know how maids talk,” said Mrs.Mead. “People thinkwe’re invisible, but we do have eyes and ears.” She managed to say all of this in that same singsong voice, a tone that made the words sound almost benign.

“Mrs.Mead,” said Mama, “shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?”

She curtsied and left the room without another word.

“Penelope, tea,” Mama ordered, pointing to the empty cups on the table.

“I apologize,” said Mama once Mrs.Mead was gone. “Honestly, I’d wash her mouth out with soap if I wouldn’t get arrested.”

“Is this one as fresh as the other?” said Algernon, pointing to Penelope as she filled his teacup. But as he watched her, his face changed. “Do I know you?” he asked.

Penelope turned and began to fill Magnus’s cup. “No, sir,” she said, but as she pulled the spout away, it caught on the fine porcelain rim, sending the cup crashing loudly against the hard herringbone floor.

“Penelope!” my mother screeched.

“I’m sorry!” said Penelope as she retreated to the sideboard.

Mrs.Mead appeared at the entrance. “What’s all the ruckus?”

“That fool of a girl just poured tea all over me,” said Magnus as he dabbed at his trousers.

“It was an accident. I’m sorry,” said Penelope.

“Not to worry,” said Mrs.Mead. “I’ll clean this up. Penelope, make a start on the laundry downstairs.”

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