Mrs. Banting pursed her lips. “Madam, this matter is not your concern. We will find a solution.”
The two servants turned toward each other, closing her out.
She cleared her throat. “I have never met a maid who would avoid a simple staircase.”
That did the trick.
Both servants gaped at her for a moment, then stories poured out of them both. Tales that chilled her blood.
“We’ve had three scullery maids quit this month,” the housekeeper said. “They can’t avoid it, madam, as it’s right by the kitchen. There is no other staircase in the east wing.”
Sinclair elbowed her aside. “The footmen refuse to use it. They go around to the other side of the estate, which takes twice as long.”
Saffron held up a hand, silencing them as she recalled the floor plan that she’d found in Leo’s office that morning. The estate was a three-pronged building with a set of servants’ stairs in each wing. The kitchen was in the east wing on the main floor. Most of the guest rooms were in that wing, including her own room. From what she’d overheard, the paintings were somewhere in the east wing. That was a useful piece of information.
“What about the rooms in the west wing?” She remembered the small writing on the sheet of paper. Those rooms were reserved for use by the viscountess, but given that the viscount was unmarried, she did not think they were being used.
Mrs. Banting blanched. “We have not yet cleaned those rooms. They’ve remained closed since…” She shot the butler an anxious look.
“Quite,” Sinclair said. “The viscountess’s rooms will not do.”
Their nervous reactions made her curious, but Sinclair’s tone brooked no argument, so she let the matter go and turned her mind to alternatives. She’d always had a fantastic memory, ever since she’d been a child. She collected and cataloged everything she saw, and if she was lucky, she found cause to use the information rather than let it clutter up her head.
If only such a skill were valued by the Ton.
“The rooms near the nursery in the north wing,” she said. “That is the only other option.”
Mrs. Banting fidgeted with the keys at her belt. “I suppose we could move the furniture around.”
Before they could argue the point further, Saffron clapped her hands. “Excellent. Then Mr. and Mrs. Morgan can take the first bedroom, and…” She called out the remaining couples and unattached guests, working from her memory of the guest list she had found in Leo’s office.
She was so preoccupied with sorting out the problem that she only barely registered the increasingly loud clattering coming from outside.
BOOM.
She jumped at the sound. A footman hurried from his post to pull the doors open as a bedraggled figure burst into the foyer, spraying water all over the freshly waxed floors.
“I thought we would never arrive,” Angelica said, shaking the water from her hair.
Saffron rushed across the room to wrap her arms around her sister, forgetting her new gown until the cold pierced through the thick fabric.
Angelica squeezed her back. “I thought you had perished,” she whispered.
“I would never leave you,” Saffron replied. Then she grasped Angelica’s shoulders and pushed her away, analyzing her with a critical eye. Although her skin was a shade too pale, and her clothes sodden, her eyes had none of the cloudiness she’d feared. In fact, even with her hair plastered all down her back and pins falling to the floor like a concord of music, Angelica was beautiful.
“Do not cause a scene, dear,” Rosemary said, strolling into the foyer at a more sedate pace. Unlike her niece, she stood still while several servants plied her with towels.
“Just wait until you see the rooms,” Saffron said, clutching Angelica’s hands. “They are simply gorgeous.”
Rosemary sniffed. “I would hope so.”
Angelica lifted her foot and her muddy slipper made a sucking sound as it split from the tile floor. She grimaced. “Right now, I would settle for dry clothes and a warm bath. It feels as if we’ve been through Shakespeare’s tempest.”
“Of course,” Saffron said. “I will see to it at once.”
She looked around for Mrs. Banting, but finding her gone, she touched the sleeve of a passing maid. When the girl turned to her, eyes wide, Saffron gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Please arrange for my sister’s and aunt’s trunks to be taken up to the rooms next to mine.”
“Yes, madam,” the maid said.
