Mrs Thrower curtsied again, then glanced from Agatha to me, unsure of what she should do next. Agatha was clearly waiting for me to say something and take charge of the situation.
I stared at both of them.
I didn't want to be rude to the woman, but was terribly disappointed she wasn't Charlotte. The brief elation I had felt melted quickly away, leaving me in more of a foul temper than I'd been in before.
With Elizabeth's bunch I'd possibly be taking on more than I could handle in the next several days . Being confronted out of the blue with another stray, pulling at my skirt, asking for me to do something to help her, was not what I needed at that moment.
I ran a business to reintegrate veterans into society; I wasn't a government social welfare office.
Mrs Thrower, late 30s with a fleshy maternal face and muscular arms that pulled a bit at the sleeves of her dress, clearly felt the chilly atmosphere in my silence.
"I. . . if you'll pardon me, Ma'am. . . I'd have written me inquiry to the butler of the house, but not knowing his name or indeed the name of any person of staff, I took the liberty of --"
I nodded. I was too nettled to simply turn about face and march out of the room, as I probably should have done. Instead I snapped, "Your letter arrived last week and I sent a reply. Did you not receive it before you left?"
"Tea, Miss Altringham?" Agatha picked up the tea pot and began to pour. "There are also refreshments, if you would be so kind."
That was a subtle hint for me to reign myself in and deal with the woman properly. I didn't think that was a terribly grand idea as all I really wanted to do was retreat back to the Hutch office to disappear under a stack of work. I had more pressing things to take care of than this.
After pouring my tea and topping up Mrs Thrower's, Agatha rose and left the room, leaving me to it. That was correct procedure, but I couldn't help but be irritated with her that she hadn't explained the situation and trundled the woman off to a guest room already.
Why did I have to manage everything?
"No, Ma'am, I didn't receive your letter," Mrs Thrower began again after taking a few deep breaths. "I left Lady Bucking-Coombs' house several days ago. I was given me reference and asked to go." She picked up a piece of stationery resting next to her tea cup and held it out to me. She'd clearly already shown it to Agatha.
I should have taken her paper, even if just to calm the woman, but I was not in the correct frame of mind to read another dismissive letter from a woman like Elizabeth. Showers of hot and cold anger were still running under my fingertips and I thought I just might have exploded if the colour of ink Lady Bucking-Coombs had used didn't agree with me.
Mrs Thrower quickly saw I wasn't going to take her paper and put it down.
"It. . .it was all very sudden, Ma'am, begging your pardon, and I thought I could stay with relatives for a while. But that turned out to be no good, so I decided to come straight here. I'm not sure which way to turn now, Mrs Altringham, but the moment I saw this grand estate with all the land and this beautiful house, I said to meself, Amelia, that Mrs Altringham you've heard such wonderful words about will certainly have a small corner for you."
She beamed at me. "I'm a good worker, clean, not a complainer, me. I've been --"
I held up my hand to stop her before she launched into a roll call of her virtues as a house servant.
"I'm sure are. Forgive me my bluntness, but the plain fact is that I can't afford to pay you. This beautiful house and all of this land is being taxed into the ground by the current government to get England back on its feet. We are being bled dry, Mrs Thrower. There's no more money for anything but the absolute necessities."
I could see the alarm rising in the woman's face, but facts were facts. Times were hard for both the upper classes and their servants.
"Your help I could use, certainly," I said, looking her in the eye but trying my best not to sound as if all this was her fault. "There is plenty of house to keep, as you can see. But I am unable to pay you a suitable wage."
I waved my hand at the rest of the room, noticing at that moment just how much the dust had settled on everything. I was rarely ever in the grand salon during the daytime and I felt slightly embarrassed at the sight of the grey film over the cushions and table tops. That never was the case when Father was in charge.
"That's the long and short of it, Mrs Thrower. And I dare say I'm in the same boat as many other people of my class. Lady Bucking-Coombs included. We simply cannot afford our servants any longer. I'm very sorry, but I have no position for you. And I know of no others who are in needed of a housemaid."
Mrs Thrower was silent, staring glassy-eyed at her letter of reference that lay on the table like a dead sparrow with its wings crumpled upwards.
I took a sip of my tea, wanting to be anywhere else in the world but here.
"And half-wage?" she said, suddenly, not lifting her eyes from the paper. "I'd be willing to work for half-wage just for a roof over my head, Ma'am. You are exactly right. There's nary a house hiring anymore, don't I know it." Her shoulders slumped and she looked like nothing more than a dog beaten and regretful for having growled at the postman.
I didn't know wether to shout at her to have some dignity, or to offer her a biscuit and more tea.
Half-wages I could afford, that was true. But I didn't like the pity act she was performing. It all seemed a little too. . .I wasn't sure what the right word was. Manipulative? Designed to play on feminine sympathy? Or perhaps I was dousing everything with my mood and she honestly didn't know where to turn.
"You may stay here tonight. I shall think over the situation and tell you my decision in the morning." I doubted I would spend even a thought on it until the Wednesday after next, but I had to tell her something.
Mrs Thrower's eyes lit up and she cried, "Oh, thank you very much, Ma'am, you won't regret it. And I would be very glad to do the washing up, or some cleaning in the meantime, so I would. I am an honest and hard-working servant. I'd be ever so happy to --"
I stood up. Mrs Thrower did as well, grabbing up her letter of reference and thrusting it at me. "Thank you so much for your kindness, Mrs Altringham."
"It's Miss Altringham." I took her paper and stuffed it into the same envelope with Elizabeth's letter without bothering to look at it. "My lady's maid will show you to a room where you can rest from your journey. Wait here."
I left the salon under a unending shower of thanks and well wishes, closing the door soundly behind me to cut the din short.
Agatha was haunting the other side of the corridor, waiting for me to come out.
"She's offering to work for half-wages," I whispered.
"I heard. Quite generous. But not surprising in the least."
"No, I suppose she is quite desperate. Look I --"
"Her letter is a forgery."
I looked at Agatha, down at the envelope in my hand, and then back at Agatha. I didn't need to ask how she knew.
"Swindler?"
Agatha shook her head, eyes glancing towards the shut salon door. "No, she is a house servant, that I don't doubt. But if she was employed where she claims? Or did Bucking-Coombs throw her out out and she's pinning her hopes on the possibility you won't inquire too closely?"
There were only a small handful of reasons house staff were thrown out with no references.
"Thief," I said.
"Possibly, possibly not, that's the question. Or. . .," Agatha began.
"Or, what?"
"Or she she packed her bags and left on her own, not bothering to ask for references. That would indicate scandal."
I worked that over in my mind for a few moments.
"I've offered her a bed for the night while I think over the situation."
Agatha nodded. "Propriety would demand no less."
"The last thing I can use is more trouble, Agatha. I've already got enough on my plate."
"That is abundantly clear to me. We shall see what I can find out," Agatha said, and added thoughtfully, "Half-wages. How very generous."