Speak. on hold until summer :/

Chapter 4

Madeline

“Miss Munroe, are you alright?” Lady Anne calls from the carriage.

“Yes, ma’am, coming right away.” I shout back, hurrying out the door.

Once I’m in the carriage, it jerks to a start and starts pulling us down the street.

“You must be wondering why I summoned you so early this morning.” Lady Anne begins after a few minutes of silence. “I suppose I should start with why I hired you. You’ve met our son, Harry. He recently reached marital age. For reasons, which are unimportant, we must wed him as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he has been going through a bit of a wild streak. This has made it very hard for my husband and I to make him seem appealing to potential in-laws.

We need you to make a good impression for our home as we have never hired a true parlor maid before and, pardon me, your demoted status has come as an advantage. You’re new identity is Madeleine Munroe. You come from the royal palace after you gave up your position for your younger sister, Elizabeth.

Harry also needs a friend. I need to know why he won’t talk to me and what’s going on in his life. I think you’d be able to get to know him well.”

She continues to talk to me about how to become Harry’s “friend”. I feel slightly guilty about pretending to get close to him, only to betray him to his mom. On the other hand, he has been a complete arse to me, so it won’t be too painful.

******

“Did she really? The nerve of that woman!” Ann exclaimed as she helped me polish the large chandelier that hangs in the front entry. As soon as I left the salon, Ann and Anne came to meet me after picking up a tux for Harry. She has kept her mouth shut until we reached home and started out chores.

“Right on my face, yes.” I say.

As soon as I had walked into the salon, I knew it wasn’t going to end well. The room was quite small, but looked like it belonged in the royal palace. There was only one seat in the room that was of plush velvet with carved lion heads on the elbow rests. An assortment of decorated eggs, tapestries and little glass knick knacks balancing on the perfectly dusted shelves.

 Apparently the stylist (the best in London) didn’t know that I was a maid, and immediately refused to help me. I believe her exact words were, “I’ve serviced the queen, Anne. There is no bloody way I am touching that filth that has the nerve to call itself human.” Her reaction was so over dramatic and comical I had to hold back laughter, rather than tears.

After much begging and promises of free meat pies (Ms. Carter’s were so famous she’d gone to cook for the royal family before) the stylist agreed with much disgruntle. The entire appointment had been hellish. The only words that came out of the pompous witch’s mouth were commands to move my head or insults. Once when I asked her to repeat her demand, she spat on me for the nerve of looking her in the eye.

Being a maid, I’m used to being looked at as more of an object, than human but maid Ann was absolutely horrified.

“You poor doll! Never in my life have I met someone so cruel. Of course, I’ve only worked here, but still. At least you look beautiful.” She says after I finish retelling my visit. I had to admit that the stylist did do a good job. My choppy hair has been cut to a short bob that frames my face well. I got a full bath as well that cleared layers of dirt from my skin. I feel like could be a royal maid.

“Thank you, Ann. That means a lot.” I say giving her a smile. “I suppose this is off topic, but why does Ms. Carter stay here? I mean, the stylist agreed to touch me, mainly for the meat pies. With that sort of demand, I’d think she’d be at a higher paying job.”