Page 30 of A Rogue to Cherish

Chapter Eleven

The warmth of the sun was welcome while Wren hung several items she’d washed on the line to dry. But then her stomach tightened at the sight of a black carriage appearing.

It was Grant’s, she had no doubt about it. She looked at the windows of the neighbors, wondering if people would begin to ask questions about the constant visitors in fancy coaches. When it pulled to a stop, the door didn’t open and upon closer inspection, she noticed no one was inside. The driver climbed down and walked to her.

“A message from Mr. Murray. There is a need for someone to help in the household. He has asked that I come for you and take you to his mother’s home.”

“His mother’s?” Wren looked to her doorway. What would her aunt think? “Does she live alone?”

“No, she and her husband. Mr. Murray’s parents.”

“I see.” She wiped her hands down her apron for no other reason than nerves. “I will leave my aunt a note and then go with you.” Wren hurried inside. This could be good. It would be good. She found employment! Surely, her aunt would agree.

*

The home wasin a well-established neighborhood. Through the carriage window, Wren saw a woman in uniform pushing a pram and several other women who were obviously servants, performing the tasks of sweeping walkways or gardening.

When the carriage stopped, she didn’t wait for the coachman, but opened the door herself and climbed down unassisted. The front of the home had a wide stairwell with four steps leading to a large wooden door. There was a covering over the door and topiaries on each side of it.

The driver stood next to the carriage. He told her that he’d been instructed to wait until after she’d spoken with Mrs. Murray, and then he’d been told to take her home.

So she climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. “Miss?” the butler said when he opened it.

“Yes. I am here to speak to Mrs. Murray. Her son, Grant…er, Mr. Murray—well, I just received word that she requested I come.” Wren hated the trembling in her voice. For whatever reason, her knees became unstable as she was shown in and told to wait by the front door.

If the man thought it untoward that she came to the front door, there was no indication. Wren craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the interior of the room to the left. It was a sitting room. The house was much smaller than Lady Roberts’, however, the décor was tasteful and made the home feel welcoming.

After taking a few deep breaths, she heard footsteps approach. An older woman, albeit much younger than Lady Roberts, appeared. Her gray-streaked hair was pulled up into a fashionable style which gave her a sophisticated appearance. Her afternoon gown was a pale green which suited her olive complexion perfectly. Upon meeting the woman’s dark-brown gaze, Wren noted her eyes were just like Grant’s. Not that she should notice such a thing, she reminded herself and bobbed a curtsy. “Ma’am. I am Wren Owen. Mr. Murray sent word that you would see me regarding employment.”

“Ah yes, of course.” Mrs. Murray’s smile was friendly. “I am Grant’s mother.” She motioned down the hallway. “Come.”

Wren followed the elegant woman, but she couldn’t help peering about at the décor and details of the house. This was where Grant—Mr. Murray, she reminded herself—had grown up.

When they arrived in the kitchen, she saw a woman sat at the table drinking tea. The short woman stood, her questioning gaze on Wren. “Ma’am, you could have rung,” she said, looking from her to Grant’s mother.

“Mae, this is Wren. She is a…er, friend of Grant’s. In need of work, I am told.” Mrs. Grant looked to her for confirmation.

“I am. Yes,” Wren acknowledged. “Very much.”

Like her employer, Mae seemed kind, not worried about whether or not the lady of the house would admonish her for continuing to sit down when they’d walked in. So unlike the servants at Lady Roberts’ home who were on edge whenever the woman was about.

“Please sit,’ Mrs. Murray motioned to a chair, sitting down as well. Once Wren sat, the woman continued, “Now tell us what you did at Lady Roberts’ home.”

Wren produced the recommendation she’d gotten from Berta. “I gardened mostly. Cleaned floors and windows. I can do anything but cook.” She frowned at her admission, then added, “I can sew, clean, wash…”

Mrs. Murray did not read the letter Wren handed her. Instead, she looked at the cook. “Mae does require help. We recently lost two of the help. One went with my daughter, and the other married and moved to live with her husband.”

Mae shrugged. “If the lad recommends you, that is all I need.”

“Can you start tomorrow?” Mrs. Murray asked.

When Wren nodded, she was told how much she’d make, which was almost twice what she had been paid at Lady Roberts’ home. Of course, her duties were to be double, as she’d serve as a chambermaid, cook’s helper, and clean the downstairs.

“We have a room and would prefer you live here,” Mae informed her.

“That’s fine,” she told Mrs. Murray. Though, she was surprised. Wren had not considered having to live there. Of course, it would be easier than having to travel every day. However, she would miss her aunt, and surely her aunt would miss her as well.

“I live with my aunt now, in the village. She’s widowed, you see, and…”