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I'll get better at it, I'm sure.
"Here, in the ladies' wing, is Lady Madeline's rooms," Mrs. Harris says, taking a turn down a pastel hallway, opulent wallpaper of gold and mint green lining the walls. We pass a few doors, and then one with a pink ribbon on the doorknob.
She smiles and knocks, then opens it.
There's nobody inside.
"We always knock, just as a matter of protocol," she says to me over her shoulder. "Wait a moment, if you are at the duke's chambers or his office, or the marquis. But with Lady Madeline, there is nothing that should prevent you from entering."
My jaw nearly hits the floor when we walk inside.
Holy shit.
So this is how the other half, no, the point one percent, live. Or rather, their children do, anyway. Twelve foot ceilings paintedpurple, hanging tapestries of embroidered unicorns decorate the walls. Gauzy curtains filter the sunlight, and a giant princess bed against the far wall with a throne splitting apart make up the primary furnishings. There's a fireplace with a plush rug in front of it, and a scatter of dolls on the floor, waiting to be played with again.
"Light housekeeping is part of your duties, helping her to tidy up her things once she's ready to start another activity." Mrs. Harris bends to pick up a toy, and I take over for her, grabbing the dolls.
"Where?" I ask, motioning with the toys. She gestures to a cupboard on the far wall, cream white with gold trim.
"In there."
The walls next to the fireplace are bookshelves, floor to ceiling and crammed with picture books.
"Her ladyship likes to read," Mrs. Harris says, and I'm not going to lie, I'm surprised.
"She sees her teaching masters during the day, so you'll need to get her up for those lessons, have lunch with her, then make sure she attends her afternoon classes as well."
Mrs. Harris sweeps around the room, picking up a doll here that's fallen over, and a small unicorn plush before placing it back on the bed.
"The maids will make the bed, and do any deep cleaning during the day that's necessary, as well as returning her tray after breakfast." She fusses at the curtains for a moment before walking to a door in the far wall.
"The bathroom is through here," she says and turns to me. "Any questions?"
Other than wondering how much the furniture costs in this single room, no.
I shake my head.
"Your rooms, of course, are attached to Lady Madeline's," Mrs. Harris says, opening a door set into the wall between two bookcases in the opulent little girl's room. I follow her, trying not to let the rich surroundings get to me. I knew what I was signing for when I scrawled my name on that NDA and employment contract.
Sort of.
I could never have imagined all of this. Silk bed covers, for a child? My grandmother would have had a heart-attack.
I glance into the smaller room and breathe a sigh of relief. My bedroom isn't anything as special. The door leads us into my room with a single bed pushed under the window, a desk next to it, a dresser, and a sitting chair. In the corner is a sink, and there are three doors, one I'm sure which leads to the bathroom, another to the hall, and another to a closet. Just guessing.
Everything is plain and utilitarian, but still well maintained. The walls are a painted a thick, fresh creamy white though, and there's not single speck of dust anywhere. Not on the crown molding, not on the wooden floors, or in the windows that reach the full height of the ceiling.
"In case her ladyship needs you in the night, she will be able to find you here," Mrs. Harris says, then turns to me. I could cross this room in five good paces, but it's nicer than I expected. "There's a night nurse, but sometimes Lady Madeline is particular."
I swallow and nod. A night nurse? Most parents are lucky to have a few hours of childcare on a weeknight or weekend day, let alone two nannies that worked opposing shifts and one separate one for the weekends as well.
"That's enough for now," she says with a sigh, glancing around the room. Your luggage will be up in a few minutes. I will see you soon." She walks to the door, determination in her steps.
The door to the hallway closes behind her with a soft click, and I am enrobed in the silence of my room. I walk to the window and look out. A courtyard below shows off beautiful shrubs and flowers, and the yard opens up and spills into a strip of green grass beyond, curving around a corner and disappearing. A tall oak shades the ground, its leaves fluttering in the spring breeze.
I sink down onto the bed as reality swallows me whole. I really did it. I'm here. Safe. There's nowhere safer than I could ever possibly hope to be. I run my fingers over the plain linen of the duvet cover. I once again am reminded that I'll be virtually invisible here. Lady Madeline is a young child and is rarely seen at public events. The Duke of Los Angeles is notoriously press-avoidant.
My past will stay dead as long as I keep to the shadows.
