wouldn’t happen to know where I could find her, Delores?"
Mrs. Dixon stopped what she was doing and a look of deep
concentration furrowed her brow. "Well, today is Wednesday, so I believe
Mrs. Fitzsimmons must be in the orange room."
"Orange room?" Sabrina asked, thinking that was an
unusual color for a parlor.
"The old mistress called it apricot, but I says it’s
orange." Delores wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Mrs. Fitzsimmons is
a strange one, that. I think she’s not quite right in the head. But she does all
right, considering there ain’t been no mistress to help her out these many
months."
"What does she do in the orange room?" Sabrina
couldn’t help but ask.
"She does her business," Delores answered with a
shrug. "Meeting with the maids and such. Making sure the linens are fresh
and the master has what he needs. She told me once that she couldn’t use the
same parlor two days in a row or it would be real bad luck. A strange one, she
is, but would probably be good at her job if she had a bit of direction."
Odd indeed, Sabrina kept the thought to herself. It wouldn’t
do for the servants to think she didn’t approve of any of them. After all, she
would have the power to dismiss anyone if she saw fit.
"Would you mind directing me to the orange room?"
she asked, hoping Mrs. Fitzsimmons was not as out of touch as Delores made her
out to be. "I think it’s very important that the housekeeper and I meet as
soon as possible."
"Surely, Mrs. Tremaine," Mrs. Dixon said, wiping
her hands on her apron. "You just keep mixing that, Miss Alice."
Sabrina followed Delores to the decidedly peach parlor where
Mrs. Fitzsimmons was having tea with an upstairs maid. Sabrina wasn’t sure what
to make of the situation. It didn’t seem at all proper, and yet, nothing about
Mr. Northcliffe’s house was in any way normal. Maybe for them, this was the way
to run things?
"Good morning, Mrs. Fitzsimmons," Sabrina said
after Mrs. Dixon had introduced them. "I am looking forward to talking to
you about how things are managed here."
"To be sure, Mrs. Tremaine," the robust middle-aged
woman said with a smile, showing crooked yellow teeth. "Why don’t you have
yourself a seat and we’ll have Mrs. Dixon send us up a fresh pot of tea. And
how about some of those scones of yours, eh Delores?"
"Right away, Mrs. Fitzsimmons." Delores raised her
eyebrows a bit so that only Sabrina could see. As if to say, I told you so.
Suppressing a most unbecoming giggle, Sabrina sat across
from the housekeeper and took in the room and the woman. It was a small sitting
room, probably used once for ladies to sit and sew in as it had good light. The
furnishings were indeed peach and apricot with a decided French flair, and
certainly cleaner than the green parlor she had been in the day before. Mrs.
Fitzsimmons herself, was small and round with friendly brown eyes and her
slightly graying brown hair was tucked up into a serviceable bun.
"So, Mrs. Fitzsimmons," Sabrina began, hoping her
voice didn’t quaver with mirth as she spoke. "I would like the opportunity
to meet your staff."
Sabrina had decided to that the best way to approach the
housekeeper was to assure the woman that the maids would still answer to her
directly. Frankly, Sabrina didn’t think it would be appropriate any other way.
It was how she had conducted her own household when she had been mistress, and
she supposed it would be beneficial for all of them to keep things in that
vein.
"Then you and I can discuss how you run things,"
Sabrina continued, seeing that Mrs. Fitzsimmons appeared content with her words.
"I don’t expect to change your routines. We just need to ensure that Mr.
Northcliffe’s needs are more conveniently met and that the house is brought
back to its former grandeur."
A grunt was the housekeeper’s response. "That man keeps
himself hidden in that laboratory of his. Every time I go a looking for him or
try to ask him for some direction, he’s either locked
Mrs. Dixon stopped what she was doing and a look of deep
concentration furrowed her brow. "Well, today is Wednesday, so I believe
Mrs. Fitzsimmons must be in the orange room."
"Orange room?" Sabrina asked, thinking that was an
unusual color for a parlor.
"The old mistress called it apricot, but I says it’s
orange." Delores wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Mrs. Fitzsimmons is
a strange one, that. I think she’s not quite right in the head. But she does all
right, considering there ain’t been no mistress to help her out these many
months."
"What does she do in the orange room?" Sabrina
couldn’t help but ask.
"She does her business," Delores answered with a
shrug. "Meeting with the maids and such. Making sure the linens are fresh
and the master has what he needs. She told me once that she couldn’t use the
same parlor two days in a row or it would be real bad luck. A strange one, she
is, but would probably be good at her job if she had a bit of direction."
Odd indeed, Sabrina kept the thought to herself. It wouldn’t
do for the servants to think she didn’t approve of any of them. After all, she
would have the power to dismiss anyone if she saw fit.
"Would you mind directing me to the orange room?"
she asked, hoping Mrs. Fitzsimmons was not as out of touch as Delores made her
out to be. "I think it’s very important that the housekeeper and I meet as
soon as possible."
"Surely, Mrs. Tremaine," Mrs. Dixon said, wiping
her hands on her apron. "You just keep mixing that, Miss Alice."
Sabrina followed Delores to the decidedly peach parlor where
Mrs. Fitzsimmons was having tea with an upstairs maid. Sabrina wasn’t sure what
to make of the situation. It didn’t seem at all proper, and yet, nothing about
Mr. Northcliffe’s house was in any way normal. Maybe for them, this was the way
to run things?
"Good morning, Mrs. Fitzsimmons," Sabrina said
after Mrs. Dixon had introduced them. "I am looking forward to talking to
you about how things are managed here."
"To be sure, Mrs. Tremaine," the robust middle-aged
woman said with a smile, showing crooked yellow teeth. "Why don’t you have
yourself a seat and we’ll have Mrs. Dixon send us up a fresh pot of tea. And
how about some of those scones of yours, eh Delores?"
"Right away, Mrs. Fitzsimmons." Delores raised her
eyebrows a bit so that only Sabrina could see. As if to say, I told you so.
Suppressing a most unbecoming giggle, Sabrina sat across
from the housekeeper and took in the room and the woman. It was a small sitting
room, probably used once for ladies to sit and sew in as it had good light. The
furnishings were indeed peach and apricot with a decided French flair, and
certainly cleaner than the green parlor she had been in the day before. Mrs.
Fitzsimmons herself, was small and round with friendly brown eyes and her
slightly graying brown hair was tucked up into a serviceable bun.
"So, Mrs. Fitzsimmons," Sabrina began, hoping her
voice didn’t quaver with mirth as she spoke. "I would like the opportunity
to meet your staff."
Sabrina had decided to that the best way to approach the
housekeeper was to assure the woman that the maids would still answer to her
directly. Frankly, Sabrina didn’t think it would be appropriate any other way.
It was how she had conducted her own household when she had been mistress, and
she supposed it would be beneficial for all of them to keep things in that
vein.
"Then you and I can discuss how you run things,"
Sabrina continued, seeing that Mrs. Fitzsimmons appeared content with her words.
"I don’t expect to change your routines. We just need to ensure that Mr.
Northcliffe’s needs are more conveniently met and that the house is brought
back to its former grandeur."
A grunt was the housekeeper’s response. "That man keeps
himself hidden in that laboratory of his. Every time I go a looking for him or
try to ask him for some direction, he’s either locked
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