Gracie turned around from the cupboard where she had been getting the cake. Plates were on the dresser. Charlotte noted with a smile that it was set out exactly like the one in her own kitchen, which Gracie had kept for so long: cups hanging from the rings, small plates on the top shelf, then bowls, dinner plates lowest.
“She gorn, then?” Gracie said anxiously.
“Mrs. Waterman? Yes, I’m afraid so. She gave notice and left all at the same time, yesterday evening. Or to be exact, she gave notice late yesterday evening, and was in the hall with her case when I came down this morning.”
Gracie was astounded. She put the cake—which was rich and full of fruit—on the table, then stared at Charlotte in dismay. “Wot she done? Yer din’t never throw ’er out fer nothin’!”
“I didn’t throw her out at all,” Charlotte answered. “She really gave notice, just like that—”
“Yer can’t do that!” Gracie waved her hands to dismiss the idea. “Yer won’t never get another place, not a decent one.”
“A lot has happened,” Charlotte said quietly.
Gracie sat down sharply in the chair opposite and leaned a little across the small wooden table, her face pale. “It in’t Mr. Pitt …”
“No,” Charlotte assured her hastily. “But he is in France on business and cannot come home until it is complete, and Mr. Narraway has been thrown out of his job.” There was no use, and no honor, in concealing the truth from Gracie. After all, it was Victor Narraway who had placed her as a maid in Buckingham Palace when Pitt so desperately needed help in that case. The triumph had been almost as much Gracie’s as his. Narraway himself had praised her.
Gracie was appalled. “That’s wicked!”
“He thinks it is an old enemy, perhaps hand in glove with a new one, possibly someone after his job,” Charlotte told her. “Mr. Pitt doesn’t know, and is trusting Mr. Narraway to support him in his pursuit now and do what he can to help from here. He doesn’t know he will be relying on someone else, who may not believe in him as Mr. Narraway does.”
“Wot are we goin’ ter do?” Gracie said instantly.
Charlotte was so overwhelmed with gratitude, and with emotion at Gracie’s passionate and unquestioning loyalty, that she felt the warmth rise up in her and the tears prickle her eyes.
“Mr. Narraway believes that the cause of the problem lies in an old case that happened twenty years ago in Ireland. He is going back there to find his enemy and try to prove his own innocence.”
“But Mr. Pitt won’t be there to ’elp ’im,” Gracie pointed out. “ ’Ow can ’e do that by ’isself? Don’t this enemy know ’im, never mind that ’e’ll expect ’im ter do it?” She looked suddenly quite pale, all the happy flush gone from her face. “That’s just daft. Yer gotter tell ’im ter think afore ’e leaps in, yer really ’ave!”
“I must help him, Gracie. Mr. Narraway’s enemies in Special Branch are Mr. Pitt’s as well. For all our sakes, we must win.”
“Yer goin’ ter Ireland? Yer goin’ ter ’elp ’im …” She reached out her hand, almost as if to touch Charlotte’s where it lay on the table, then snatched it back self-consciously. She was no longer an employee, but it was a liberty too far, for all the years they had known each other. She took a deep breath. “Yer ’ave gotta!”
“I know. I mean to,” Charlotte assured her. “But since Mrs. Waterman has walked out—in disgust and outraged morality, because Mr. Narraway was alone in the parlor with me after dark—I have to find someone to replace her before I can leave.”
A succession of emotions passed across Gracie’s face: anger, indignation, impatience, and a degree of amusement. “Stupid ol’ ’aporth,” she said with disgust. “Got minds like cesspits, some o’ them ol’ vinegar virgins. Not that Mr. Narraway don’t ’ave a soft spot for yer, an’ all.” The smile lit her eyes for an instant, then was gone again. She might not have dared say that when she worked for Charlotte, but she was a respectable married woman now, and in her own kitchen, in her own house. She wouldn’t have changed places with the queen—and she had met the queen, which was more than most could say.
“Gracie, Emily is away and so is my mother,” Charlotte told her gravely. “I can’t go and leave Jemima and Daniel until I find someone to look after them, someone I can trust completely. Where do I look? Who can recommend someone without any doubt or hesitation at all?”
Gracie was silent for so long that Charlotte realized she had asked an impossible question.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “That was unfair.”
The kettle was boiling and began to whistle. Gracie stood up, picked up the cloth to protect her hands, and pulled it away from the heat. She swirled a little of the steaming water around the teapot to warm it, emptied it down the sink, and then made the tea. She carried the pot carefully over to the table and set it on a metal trivet to protect the wood. Then she sat down again.
“I can,” she said.
Charlotte blinked. “I beg your pardon?”