Not Quite Darcy Read Online Free PDF Page B

doors, she came to the front of the house—where William Brown and his mother lived, she assumed. A plump redheaded girl who couldn’t be a day over sixteen was busy stuffing linens into a basket and humming to herself. When she looked up to see Eliza, she beamed a friendly smile.
    â€œYou must be Bessie.”
    â€œSo they tell me,” Eliza said.
    Dora stared for a moment, then chuckled. “You’re not a serious sort at all, are you? And you really are an American? Ooh, this’ll be an adventure. Come and help me take the sheets downstairs and we can have a good chat over the laundry. But have a mind to keep as quiet as you can on account of the missus.” She tilted her head toward the closed door on the left.
    The girl led the way down the hall. Just before they turned for the back stairs, Dora set her basket down in front of the last door on the right. “You can tuck your bag in there. Was Fanny’s room. Will be yours now. No sleeping in the attic quarters for you.”
    â€œIs that where you sleep, Dora?”
    â€œOh, no. I go home at night. All of us do. Mrs. MacLaughlin, Davy and me. Our mister is a very modern sort of employer.” The maid nodded proudly, as if the staff sleeping in their own homes was some kind of breakthrough for the working man, on par with abolishing serfdom.
    Eliza pulled on the latch and stepped into the room. It was compact and sparsely furnished with a small bed, a table and a mismatched wardrobe in the corner. Light streamed in from an oval window, which looked out on the rear garden.
    â€œDon’t know how this compares to how they do things in America, but I must say, it’s a quite posh room, this is.”
    â€œIt’s lovely.” Eliza placed her bag at the foot of the bed and turned toward the girl.
    â€œWhat happened to the girl who used to have this room?”
    â€œFanny?” Dora asked.
    Eliza nodded.
    â€œWell, she took off with a lad she met at the market. Was a farmer from down Sussex way. Up and married the fellow. Left service behind entirely from what I hear tell of it.”
    How odd. William Brown referred to Fanny as though she’d engaged in some kind of scandalous behavior. Eliza’s romances had rarely touched on the lives of the servants. A little fact that was leaving her woefully unprepared in what might be expected of her.
    â€œWe’re not to talk about Fanny’s departure with Mrs. Brown,” Dora urged.
    â€œYes, William mentioned that.”
    â€œWho?” Dora wore a shocked expression.
    â€œI mean to say Mr. Brown.”
    â€œGood lord, Bessie! He’s modern, but he’s not—”
    â€œI know, Dora. I know. It’s just been a really long day. You have no idea.”
    â€œI’m afraid your lot’s not about to improve. Monday’s wash day and we’ve got all behind now Fanny’s gone. We should hurry downstairs and get on with it.”
    Eliza shoved her trepidation to the back of her mind and went downstairs, toward whatever primeval versions of Tide and Maytag awaited her in the laundry room.

Chapter Four
    Eliza collapsed on her bed.
    Wash day sucked, big time. She’d spent most of her day in the laundry area, stuffed into the darkest corner of the smoky basement kitchen. Her hands were red and cracked from the harsh soap and her arms ached.
    Her day had been occupied with wrestling armloads of damp cloth in and out of a series of large metal tubs. Then she had to smack them around with a complicated wooden device called a dolly before wringing everything out in the appropriately named wrangler. Finally, she lugged the wet mass of material upstairs to hang on the maze of line strung across the back porch.
    She’d never been much of a fan of physical labor. During her brief foray into college life, she’d participated in a 5K run and afterward could barely lift a coffee cup for days. She never thought she’d never feel such