The passage opened into a large room with black and white tiles. A wooden staircase dominated one side of the hall, and Ellie admired the white columns running the length of the room.
The butler was standing near the base of the stairs and watched them approach with a bemused look on his face.
Mrs. Noelle came to a stop next to him and gestured towards Ellie. “Thorne, I would like to introduce you to Miss Elizabeth Bentley.”
Thorne’s eyes grew wide. “You are Miss Elizabeth Bentley?”
She nodded. “I am.”
His face grew red and splotchy. “I do apologize, miss,” he stammered.
“There is no need,” she replied. “I understand a new scullery maid was arriving today, and I can see how you mistook me for her.” She glanced down at her traveling gown. “I do look a fright.”
Mrs. Noelle interjected, “If you will excuse us, I shall escort Miss Bentley to meet with Lady Bideford.”
The butler bowed. “Yes, of course.”
As they walked up the stairs, Mrs. Noelle leaned closer to her with a smile on her face. “I daresay I haven’t seen Thorne that dumbfounded in quite some time.”
“Is that so?”
Mrs. Noelle laughed. “I’m afraid no one will let him forget that he sent a lady to the servant’s entrance.”
“Please don’t be too hard on him,” Ellie replied. “It was just an honest mistake.”
“That it was,” the housekeeper agreed.
A few moments later Mrs. Noelle knocked on a door.
“Enter,” a voice came from within.
Mrs. Noelle opened the door and stepped inside. As she followed her into the room, Ellie saw a matronly woman with fading brown hair sitting on a settee by the fire. It was evident that this was Lady Bideford.
The housekeeper gestured towards her and said, “Allow me to introduce you to Miss Elizabeth Bentley.”
Rising from the settee, Lady Bideford came to stand in front of her. “I would recognize you anywhere. You are the spitting image of your mother.”
“That is kind of you to say, my lady,” she replied as she dropped into a curtsy.
Lady Bideford smiled kindly at her. “I would prefer it if you called me Harriet.”
“Then you must call me Ellie.”
With an approving nod, Harriet’s eyes roamed over her face. “You are terribly filthy, my dear,” she said. “How did you manage to travel here?”
“I took the mail coach.”
Harriet pressed her lips together in disapproval. “I wish your mother would have said something. I would have sent our coach to retrieve you.”
“It was no bother to take the mail coach,” she attempted.
“Your mother was always quite stubborn,” Harriet said in a low voice. “Do you take after her in that regard?”
“I’m afraid I do.”
Harriet shook her head. “Let’s pray that you are not past hope yet,” she commented good-naturedly.
Harriet turned her attention towards the housekeeper. “Will you ensure a bath is prepared for Miss Bentley?”
