Once More A Family. Lily George
into blank politeness, but inwardly she was shocked. How on earth did a room get so dirty? Cobwebs hung in the corners of the ceiling, and dust had settled over all of the surfaces. The window was gray, lending a kind of grubby filter to the view of the fields outside.
“Do you have a maid?” She kept her voice as even as she could under the circumstances.
“Yes, two of them,” he responded. If the soiled state of the house appalled him, he was good at hiding his dismay.
“Do they have other duties besides taking care of the house? Do you share their services with anyone else?” That would be the only way such slipshod cleaning could possibly happen.
“No, they’re both employed to take care of the house and make meals,” he replied. “Speaking of which, I think you must be pretty tired and hungry by now. I can find Mrs. H. and have her make us something.”
“Aren’t meals served at regular times?” At this point, it was no longer possible to avoid arching her eyebrows. Two servants, a filthy house, meals served haphazardly—this place was in need of serious management.
“Naw, just whenever I am starving enough to ask them to rustle up some grub,” he replied, flashing a bewildered grin. “After all, it’s just me here. No need for them to go to any kind of trouble for a widower.”
Why employ anyone, then? What exactly did two maids do all day? They obviously didn’t keep themselves busy by cleaning the house. Should she throttle him for expecting so little out of life or feel sorry for him for his lonely bachelor existence? Ada forced a smile. “Well, that’s going to change. No wonder your father-in-law doesn’t want Laura to stay here. This place is ridiculously filthy.”
The grin faded from his face. “When my wife was alive, the house was spotless, and the only time he came here was when Emily was still living. So you can’t hang this one on my poor housekeeping skills.”
Ada tossed her gloves onto the dresser, raising a small cloud of dust. “You married me for one purpose—to be a wife, which means running your household. I need a home, too, and I want it to be nice. So, if you have no objection, I shall get started without delay.”
His square jaw tightened. “Be my guest,” he replied curtly. “I need to see to the horses.” He brushed past her and closed the door with a snap.
Ada sat on the bed, removing her hat pins with hands that trembled. Her life had taken such an odd turn the moment she’d stepped onto the train platform that morning. She opened her valise, removing her silver-backed hairbrush-and-mirror set. She unwound her hair and began brushing it with long, smooth strokes to remove the travel dust.
If Jack had known they were going to be married when he came to fetch her that morning, then this house was in the kind of condition he expected her to appreciate when he brought her home as his bride. That was absurd, for no woman would delight in a wretchedly ill-kept house. On the other hand, he seemed genuinely startled and then offended when she pointed out that regular meals and a clean environment must be maintained in a home when raising a child.
She wound her hair back up in its coil, pinning it into place, and changed from her traveling dress into a clean housedress. She removed her boots, which had started pinching her toes, and reveled in the feel of her slippers, so soft and accommodating for tired, achy feet.
Well, there was nothing for it. She would have to seek out the maids and put them to work. Otherwise, she would find her newfound life too tinted with squalor. She made her way downstairs, avoiding the banister, and crossed the front vestibule.
The entryway was covered in dust, as was the parlor and the dining room. There was no sign of anyone else in the house. Her slippers didn’t make any sound as she drifted from room to room. It was almost as though she had imagined this whole scenario and would soon find herself in New York again.
The house was larger than it had looked from the outside, with high ceilings and arched hallways. The furniture was—all of it—mahogany. Painted glass ceiling fixtures, with prisms dangling, were covered in filth. This could be a very fine home. Why, it was prettier than Aunt Pearl’s—at least what she’d glimpsed of Aunt Pearl’s house. If only it were cleaned up and made to look as gracious as it truly was.
She passed through the dining room and onto the back veranda. A small outbuilding caught her eye, as it had a very large chimney. Perhaps the kitchen was separate from the house. That would make sense. After all, in this heat, having a kitchen inside would make the living areas almost unbearable.
She ventured across the yard, holding her skirts above the grass. An older woman and a young woman stepped out of the building, eyeing her warily as she approached.
As soon as she came close enough to speak without shouting, she said, “Hello.”
The two women mumbled their greetings. The older woman had keen brown eyes and gray hair scraped back into a serviceable bun. The younger woman had two long braids of blond hair, one over each shoulder, but the same brown eyes as her older counterpart. Mother and daughter, perhaps?
“I am Miss W— I beg your pardon, I meant to say Mrs. Burnett.” She gave them each a polite smile in turn. “I believe you work for Mr. Burnett?”
“Yes.” The older woman crossed her arms over her chest. “We do.”
“Is it just you two?” Although Jack had assured her he only employed two maids, she had no inkling of just how to open the conversation. How should one approach upbraiding the women for the deplorable condition of the house? An idea began to form in the back of her mind. “That’s not very many servants for such a large house. Are you, perhaps, overworked?”
The older woman eyed her with skepticism. “No, ma’am. We can handle anything.”
The younger woman nodded, keeping her gaze turned toward the ground.
“Well, I have half a mind to tell my new husband off.” She shook her head with mock indignation. “Men! The idea that two women would be adequate staff for cleaning such a large house, not to mention providing meals in a timely manner, is preposterous.” She gave them both encouraging smiles. “Thank you for all you have done. I suppose I should begin hiring more staff tomorrow. Do you know of anyone who would be willing to help?”
The younger woman spoke up. “Yes, ma’am. One of my friends, Cathy Chalmers, was let go from the Hudson place when they packed up and moved back east. She’s a good maid and a deft hand with laundry.”
“Excellent. Can you get word to her? I’d like for Cathy to start this week.”
The younger woman nodded. She wasn’t smiling, but she did seem somewhat less abashed.
Ada pressed on. “Both of you have me at a bit of a disadvantage. Would you please tell me your names, and how long you’ve been in service to the Burnett family?”
“I’m Loretta Holcomb, but you can call me Mrs. H. or Betty. My daughter here is Maggie. We’ve been working for the Burnetts since the first Mrs. Burnett passed. All her servants went back to Charleston.”
“I see.” So both women had come on board when Jack’s life had been utter chaos and confusion—dealing with his wife’s death, losing his child, having to placate his father-in-law. No small wonder, then, that they had been allowed to do such a poor job. Perhaps they even thought they were doing credible work. After all, Jack was a widower and spent most of his time, in all likelihood, outdoors.
That was going to change.
“It’s very nice to meet you both. I am not from Texas, so I am sure I shall rely on you to help me as I learn what life is like out here.” Now that she had introduced herself and found out more about the women, it was time to get to work. “Mrs. H., are you the cook, primarily?”
“Yes.” Her posture relaxed somewhat, though her arms remained crossed over her chest.
“Very good. Well, I need you to make a good dinner for us tonight, to be served in the dining room.” She