Page 95 of Storm of Bells
Marching back inside, I strode across theentrance hall and looked around. Hm…where would be a likely spotfor the servants’ quarters?
My eyes settled on the simplest, leastostentatious door and I started forward. Behind it, I’d either findthe servants quarters, or Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s personal chambers.Either way, it would be a win.
‘Hello?’
Cautiously, I knocked on the first door. Theonly response was silence.
So, either no one is in, or Mr Ambroseis.
Cracking the door open, I peeked inside—andfound nothing but a bare room with a few crates piled up in thecorner.
Ah, so itisMr Rikkard Ambrose’squarters?
Hm. No, probably not. The stench of money inthe air was missing.
This definitely looked like a room that wouldbe assigned to a servant. But it looked as if it hadn’t been livedin for years. Frowning, I moved onto the next room. It was just asempty, except a scribbled message on the wall, declaring ‘Jim lovesMacy!’, surrounded by a big heart in faded red chalk.
Definitelynot Mr Rikkard Ambrose’sroom.
But…could it be the servants’ quarters? Ichecked several more rooms, but there was no one in sight. Whereverthe servants were, it was clear that it was high time someone tookthis place in hand! It was time to assume my role as lady of thehouse. After all, I was a modern woman. No one said I couldn’t beboth a career womanandthe terror of the householdstaff.
Marching back out into the corridor, I walkeduntil I had found a room with a bell pull. Striding up to thething, I tugged, hard. The bell echoed through the entire house,and I stood, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Oh dear. When thehousekeeper came, I’d have a thing or two to say to her. So far, Iwas not impressed.
I didn’t have to wait for much longer. Aftera few minutes, sedate footsteps approached, and a door opened toreveal the marvellously stiff-upper-lipped figure of Benson thebutler.
‘Ah, hello Benson.’ I smiled at the butler,apparently the only reliable member of the household staff. Nomatter how many others I had to fire, I already knew I would keephim on. ‘I was expecting the housekeeper. Where is she?’
Benson made a delicate noise in the back ofhis throat. ‘To my utmost regret I must admit that she resigned awhile ago, Miss, due to unsatisfactory remuneration.’
It took a few moments for my mental gears tostart working and shift to process his butlerian speech.
Translation: my fiancé is a skinflint.
Oh, well. I suppose I should have expectedsomething like this. This wasn’t a normal manor house, after all.Would Mr Ambrose really have kept on a full staff?
‘All right. Then may I speak to the cook,please?’
The man cleared his throat again. ‘She, um,resigned Miss. Due to unsatisfactory remuneration.’
I felt a tingle at the back of my neck. No.It couldn’t be, could it? Not even Mr Rikkard Ambrose would…
‘A head footman, then? A chambermaid? Ascullery maid, if she’s not too busy scrubbing pots?’
‘They resigned, Miss, due to—’
I held up a hand. ‘I think I can guess.’
Silence.
A long, meaningful, silence.
‘Benson?’
‘Yes, My Lady?’
‘Is there any staff at all left in thisplace?’
‘Except for the removal men you so eloquentlydeposited on their posteriors, My Lady? No.’
