"Cora, surely you're not serious." Mrs. Shepherd clutched her fork as she gaped at Cora from across the table during breakfast. "A housekeeper?"
Cora feigned a calmness she did not feel. Last night, when she had made the decision to pursue this course, it had felt right. But now, in light of day and with Mrs. Shepherd looking at her as though she'd gone mad, her confidence waned. "Yes, a housekeeper."
"But… why?"
"I understand that the neighboring estate—Tanglewood, I believe?—is in need of such a person, and as I am in need of a position, I thought the news providential."
"You are a tradesman's daughter, not a farmer's daughter. And an heiress at that," stated Mrs. Shepherd firmly. "Only think of what this could do to your reputation."
Cora had thought of that. Late into the night, as she'd mulled everything over in her mind, the likelihood of a ruined reputation had most certainly surfaced. In fact, Mrs. Shepherd had landed on the very thing that had convinced Cora to move ahead with this plan.
"I realize that it is likely to ruin my reputation, but that does not sway me," answered Cora.
Mrs. Shepherd's eyes widened in astonishment. She glanced at her husband briefly, but he seemed absorbed in reading a letter he'd just received, so Mrs. Shepherd turned back to Cora. "You seem… pleased by the prospect. I cannot understand it."
"Can you not?" Mr. Shepherd finally spoke, setting his correspondence aside and turning his attention to his wife. "Should Mr. Notley discover the whereabouts of his eldest daughter, do you think Sir Gowen will be inclined to wed a girl who ran off to become a housekeeper rather than marry him? I'm certain even his pride has its limits. A daughter of a tradesman is one thing; a housekeeper quite another."
"Which is precisely the point I am attempting to make," answered Mrs. Shepherd. "My dear, if you follow through with this plan, no door in polite society will ever be open to you again."
"I understand." Cora refrained from adding that no door was open to her now.
Mrs. Shepherd pressed her lips together and carefully set down her fork. When she lifted her eyes to Cora's once more, they were filled with worry. "Do you also understand that it won't only be Sir Gowen you will discourage? It will be every other possible suitor?"
Cora nodded. "Yes. But sadly, the only type of suitor who will not be discouraged by my low connections will be those who want my father's wealth more than me. I do not wish for such a marriage." Especially not now that she had seen firsthand that happy unions existed.
"But not all men are like that," Mrs. Shepherd pressed. "I was once a seamstress, you know, and… well, I am not a seamstress any longer."
Cora's smile softened. "If only I could be as fortunate."
"You can be." Mrs. Shepherd directed a pleading look at her husband, who was now chewing on a thick slice of bacon as though nothing at all was amiss. When he caught his wife's look, he swallowed, set down his fork, and cleared his throat.
"I think it's a brilliant idea."
"I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Shepherd gaped at her husband, but he paid her no mind.
"Tell me, Cora," he said. "How much do you know about drying and pounding herbs?"
"Herbs?" Cora frowned. What did herbs have to do with anything?
"Do you know how to make preserves? Pastries? Do you enjoy distilling waters?"
"I, er…"
"What about maintaining household accounts, managing the maids and the cook, and provisioning everything from candles to linens?"
Cora could now see that he was pointing out her sorry lack of qualifications. Although his line of questioning unnerved her, she refused to let him dissuade her. She lifted her chin. "I have always had a firm grasp of numbers, sir, and as to the rest… well, I am a fast learner. I believe I shall get along nicely."
"Then we are agreed," he said, picking up his correspondence once more. "You will make an admirable housekeeper, I am certain. Mrs. Shepherd and I wish you very well indeed."
Not sure how to reply, Cora glanced at Mrs. Shepherd, noting that she did not appear quite so frantic any longer. The worry lines had vanished, along with any and all arguments. She settled back into her seat and picked up her fork to resume eating.
Feeling suddenly out of charity with her hosts, Cora stabbed at the eggs on her plate and took a frustrated bite. With or without their confidence, she would apply to the butler at Tanglewood this very afternoon for the housekeeping position. If he found her as unqualified as he probably would, she would beg for a job in the scullery instead.
Before Cora lost her nerve, she raised her fist and rapped loudly on the door of the service entrance. While she waited for it to open, she rubbed her tender knuckles and looked around. Both the house and the grounds had an aged beauty about them, but in contrast to the warm and welcoming feeling that had surrounded Knotting Tree, the feeling at Tanglewood was decidedly unwelcoming. She couldn't explain why, exactly. Perhaps it was the gardeners who had barely flicked a glance at her, the maid who refused to look up when she passed by only moments before, or the way her knock had echoed hollowly from inside, as though the walls of the house were nothing but a cavernous shell. Whatever it was, Cora didn't care for it.
The door opened with a creak, and a woman a few years older and several inches taller answered. She wore a white cap, a gray dress, and a once-white apron that had become a dingy gray. Her red hair was neatly tucked back into a tight bun, and her cold, gray eyes narrowed as she inspected the newcomer. "You be needin' somethin'?"
Did no one smile on this property? thought Cora as she forced a cheerful reply. "I should like to apply to the butler for the position of housekeeper, if you please."
The woman's eyes widened slightly before her lips curled into a sneer. She barked out a laugh. "You? An 'ousekeeper?" Another grating laugh sounded.
Cora was grateful for the maid's reaction. It annoyed her enough to reaffirm her resolve, and she found it easy to meet the woman's gaze squarely. "If you would be so kind as to tell the butler that Miss Notley is here to see him, I would be most grateful." Cora wished she had thought to ask Katy the name of the butler.
"If I'd be so kind," mimicked the maid in a mocking tone. She chortled as she left Cora standing on the step while she went in search of the butler, or at least Cora hoped that was where she'd gone. She sighed and took a step back from the house, glancing up at the gray stone walls. What sort of people worked and lived inside? For most of her life, the only people who had ever been kind to Cora were her family's servants. Her governess, especially. They had been the ones to show Cora the difference between coarseness and refinement, disinterest and genuine concern, tolerance and love. She had assumed all servants were as kind. Apparently, that was not the case. Would the butler laugh at her as well?
Cora was left to simmer for what felt like an eternity. When the maid finally reappeared, her mocking expression had been replaced with a sour glare. Cora found the change intriguing.
"Mr. Ludlow wants ter speak with you right away." The maid turned on her heel, leaving Cora in a state of shock. Mr. Ludlow? As in the owner of this cavernous house—the employer Katy described as exacting and cantankerous? Heavens. To think she had been worried about the butler laughing her out of the house. What would Mr. Ludlow say or do? A job as a scullery maid seemed highly unlikely now.
Left with no other options, Cora drew in a deep breath and forced her feet forward. At least she would have a good tale to tell when she returned to Knotting Tree sufficiently humbled.