“This is my sister, Judy. Mr. Petre employed her to cook for us and the
men who work here. He and Sir Percival usually eat in the butler’s pantry.”
“Is my husband still here?” Letitia asked. It was well into the afternoon.
She preferred to embark on her project all by herself.
“He rode out with Mr. Petre after early dinner,” Mrs. Perkins replied.
“Thank you.” Letitia handed Judy the empty glass and smiled at her. “I am
sure Sir Percival is very pleased with how you keep the table.”
“Aye, that he is, my lady.” Judy curtsied again.
“Mrs. Perkins,” Letitia asked when they left the kitchen, “would you show
me the cellars too?”
Mrs. Perkins hesitated, picking at the hem of her apron with shaking
fingers. “My lady’s clothes will get dirty from the dust and cobwebs,” she
replied. “Not
