Hannah: Daughters of the Sea #1 Read Online Free PDF

sent from the home.”
    “Yes, yes, Hannah Albury.” She started to hold out her hand but realized this was not a good idea and quickly stuffed it back in her pocket. “I meant to go around to the back.”
    “You meant to? Then why have you come to the front?”
    “I…I…guess I got confused.”
    “You confused the front of the house with the back? My, my! Well, I suggest that you try again.” With that he took her by the shoulders, spun her around, and marched her back through the front gate.
    “Turn left at the corner. Take another left into the service alley. Open the small gate with the number Eighteen to the refuse yard and knock on the door. Florrie will admit you and we’ll start all over.”
    Hannah did as she was told. She stepped into the narrow refuse yard. There were only number 18s painted on the bins and barrels. No H s. The door had no knocker, so she rapped loudly. She heard footsteps, and the door swung open. “Heard all about you already. I’m Florrie. Brilliant!” The girl had black hair that foamed around her head. Hercheeks were ruddy. “Follow me. Mr. Marston just about had a fit.”
    “It was so stupid of me. I don’t know how I forgot. And I studied the book so hard.”
    “What book?” Florrie tossed the question over her shoulder.
    “Mrs. Claremont’s Guide for Domestic Service.”
    “You can read?”
    “Yes, they taught me at The Home for Little Wanderers.”
    “Oh,” Florrie said curtly. Hannah bit her lip lightly. Another mistake! Another thing to mark her as odd. Many servant-class girls did not know how to read. They had had to leave school early. Now this girl, Florrie, would most likely think Hannah was putting on airs. Hannah would have to make a special effort to be very nice to her. But maybe she could repair the damage a bit. “I don’t read very well. And I’m absolutely terrible with figures. Can barely add two plus two.”
    “Oh, I can,” Florrie said, then added, “but Mr. Marston does all the adding and subtracting aroundhere.” She paused. “Including the firing, which I guess counts as a kind of subtracting.”
    Florrie laughed at her own joke, and although Hannah felt a terrible dread, she tried to laugh extra hard.
    “You’re very clever, Florrie.” Then she made a kind of humorous grimace. “Hope I won’t be subtracted.”
    Florrie turned to smile quickly. It was a friendly smile and gave Hannah a bit of hope.
    They had been winding through a maze of back halls, many of which had open shelves with bins and canisters. It appeared to be an extended pantry of some kind. There were cooking smells, and soon they went through double doors and arrived in the kitchen.
    “New girl, Mrs. Bletchley,” Florrie announced.
    “Be right with you, dear.” A plump lady whose face was beaded with perspiration was leaning over a large pot and tasting something. “It ain’t got ’nuff pepper.” She sniffed. A small boy was scrubbing potatoes.
    “Your scrubbing days might be numbered, Chauncey, and you can get back to your beasts,” Florrie said.
    “Not a minute too soon. There’s tackle to be polished with the Hawleys coming.”
    “This way.” Florrie nodded and held a door open to a small hall off the kitchen. Hannah followed her. Florrie then walked up to another door and tapped on it. “Mr. Marston, the girl’s here.”
    “Come in.”
    The butler sat behind a desk, bent over some papers. Spectacles were perched on his beakish nose. He did not look up. “I’ll leave you two,” Florrie said and closed the door behind her.
    “Take a seat, Miss…Miss…”
    “Albury…”
    “Ah, yes, here it is. Hannah Albury. Take a seat, Hannah.”
    Hannah knew from the way he said her first name that it was not necessarily a sign of friendliness but merely a designation. Like Florrie, she did not qualify for the formal address of “Miss” or “Mrs.” Lowermaids were always called simply by their Christian names. He, on the other hand, must be addressed