waif she had glimpsed in the mirror earlier, and definitely not someone whom a man would ever embrace.
After entering the room in a dignified manner, Daisy made a brief curtsy to the assembled throng of women. Her curtsy was neither too deep nor perfunctory, but precisely at the correct height.
Mrs Blandish was enthroned at the other end of the room, a silver teapot at her side. The remains of two cakes littered her plate and several crumbs had spilt down her ample bosom. Her glance turned ice cold as Daisy rose from the curtsy.
Silently Daisy went over her savings once again. Whatever happened, she refused to crawl or beg. She would rather starve. If she could leave with dignity and a civil reference, another position would be relatively easy to secure. Five other families had been after her services. She had chosen the Blandishes because the salary was more than the others.
‘Ah, Miss Milton, I see you have returned.’ Mrs Blandish’s purple turban twitched. She set her tea cup down with a distinct clank. The naturally high colour became higher still. ‘How good of you to come and find me. I trust my daughter gave you the correct message.’
‘She passed it along, Mrs Blandish.’ Daisy inclined her head. Calm, collected, professional were the words she lived by. Mrs Blandish for all her airs and graces was the granddaughter of a fishmonger. ‘Without embellishment, or so Nella informs me. I believe you were at pains to explain the situation to her.’
‘Good. My daughter seems sadly prone to exaggeration since she has come under your care. Not a day goes by without some sort of incident. Today’s little episode was the worst by some way.’
Daisy’s neck muscles tightened, but she choked back a quick retort. Nothing would be solved by antagonising Mrs Blandish in front of the assembled crowd.
‘I am endeavouring to curb the tendency, Mrs Blandish. It would be helpful if she was not encouraged.’ Daisy kept her tones measured. Surely Mrs Blandish had to see the sheer nonsense of Nella’s allegation. ‘Her words are often the subject of much conjecture and gossip, rather than being treated as fantastical imaginings.’
‘Fantastical imaginings. Hmm, you do have a point.’ Mrs Blandish took an overly dainty sip from her tea cup. ‘I wish to reach the end of this coil.’
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