El downside de ser squibb

Mrs. Khan got very nervous and embarrassed at the same time. 

"I- I had no idea, Miss. I'm very sorry. I just assumed... your visits and tonight's dinner..." She fumbled. "This is why it's best for me to work in silence, Miss." She explained apologetically while brushing her hair.

"There's no need to apologize, Mrs. Khan. You did nothing wrong and I rather enjoy the company." She reassured the older maid with a smile.

"Truth is I believe the divorce was a mistake. I'm hoping to patch things up with Matthew. We were a good match." She said simply.

She wasn't quite convinced but tried to believe it would be all right and let the issue go. For that sake, she kept on brushing the younger woman's hair. 

"Then I wouldn't worry too much, Miss." She ventured while starting to work on Miss Dalton's bun. "Master Rogers is quite taken with you. I can tell. I honestly thought you were courting!" Was her attempt at fixing up her mixtake.

"You do have a point." She admitted out loud for the first time. "No one would go to such lengths to please someone they don't care about, right? And people do say we don't look like divorcees."

Fanny looked at her reflection in the mirror. Perhaps she should have gone with the Bordeaux dress after all.

"What do you think of this dress? Should I have worn the other one?" She asked for the third time already.

"Especially someone as busy as Master Rogers." She pointed out.

"You don't, Miss." She agreed. 

Mrs. Khan doubted about whether or not to answer that. She even stopped working on the Miss's hairdo for a moment.

"You may speak freely." She repeated with a kind smile and endless patience.

"Excuse me. I am not used to be asked for an opinion but rather paid not to have one. A young woman your age who talks to the staff like this is unheard of."

"But if you insist, I believe it would have been too much, Miss. Sometimes it is best to play hard to get. Though you do look gorgeous in this dress. It's just less revealing."

"I understand. Yet, having an opinion is what makes us who we are. I do not wish to deprive you of your right to be yourself just because you happen to work here." She explained softly.

"I do."

Fanny nodded. The Bordeaux dress was almost sleeveless. Its corset revealed neck chest and shoulders, although it had virtually no cleavage. This one, on the other hand, had long sleeves that covered her bandages, which the old maid had changed for her, and buttoned up to her chin.

"I believe you're right." She admitted with a satisfied smile.

"You are most kind, Miss." Mrs. Khan said with tears in her eyes, touched by her way of seeing things. If only her previous owners had been a fraction of the woman she was, her daughter would still be alive. 

"Besides, this one hides those terrible burns. It will help direct the conversation to more pleasant topics." For a moment, she had forgotten who she was and fantasized about talking to her daughter. They used to have that kind of conversation a while before her death, when Mrs. Khan thought her in love with another servant rather than one of the younger family members.

She shook her head to get out of that sad reverie and back to reality, where she added the last bobby pins to Miss Dalton's hairdo before taking a step back. She waited for the verdict.

Fanny smiled and patted the old woman's hand affectionately.

"Good thinking. Thank you for your advice, Mrs. Khan. You are a very wise woman and this household is lucky to have you."

"It looks wonderful, thank you. I'll let you return to your family now. Have a good night, Mrs. Khan." Fanny dismissed her in the most courteous way.

The old woman had to use all her willpower to prevent her tears from spilling. Master Rogers would be a fool to let such a woman slip past him a second time, she thought.

"I'm here to serve, Miss." She said lowering her head. 

"I'm glad you're satisfied, Miss." She said with a curtsy. "Just ring if you need anything else." She said before disappearing through the service door.

"You're here to work." She corrected kindly. "And I honestly hope Matthew is paying you enough for your service."

She nodded and smiled at Mrs. Khan.

"Wish me luck!" She said giddy like a school girl and just as nervous.

That woman surprised her more and more every moment until Mrs. Khan wished Master Rogers would marry her so they could move into the house. It would have been a great pleasure to serve such a lady. 

"More than I ever dreamed of, Miss."

She gave Miss Dalton a rather toothless yet sincere encouraging smile. "You look stunning, Miss. Go dazzle him!" She cheered for her and left.

Once the old woman left, Fanny felt suddenly nervous once again. She feared what happened at the crypt might have been just a spur of the moment thing, carried on into the ride home by the romanticism of the scenery. Had her proposal to use their get-together as a marketing campaign been too forward? She felt it tacky but was too exhilarated at the moment to think clearly of what was proper.

Her heart raced at the thought of spending time alone with Matthew in the library, where he had stolen a kiss from her the last time they visited the place to stock up on books for her to read.

She stood up, looked at her reflection in the full mirror for a long minute and then put on her tear shaped pearl earrings before leaving the room. She walked through the upstairs corridor, descended to the ground floor and took a deep breath before entering the library.

The library was one massive room occupying the entire east wing of the house, all three floors of it. Three of its walls were completely covered by books from floor to the extremely high ceiling. The fourth wall, opposite to the door, was oval shaped and made entirely of panned glass, which made it look like a winter garden despite the lack of plants in the room. This particular area, where comfortable chairs, sofas and loveseats were deliberately scattered, was bathed in sunlight all year round during most of the day due to the wing's strategical orientation.

The walls, in the few places where they could be seen, were covered in green and gold wallpaper with a vine pattern. The tall white marble columns holding the roof in place shared the leafy pattern with them, contributing to the outdoorsy feeling the whole place had.

Much like the entrance hall, the upper level was hollow in the middle, comprised only by a gallery that granted access to the less demanded books stored there. A spiral staircase in a corner led to the top floor, where the oldest, most valuable volumes were kept safe from dust, humidity and anything else capable of hurting its historical and market value.

Both for all intended purposes, people usually gathered at the seats near the window looking out at one of the largest flower beds in the garden, which were casually sprayed by an impressive fountain every few minutes. The several end tables placed among the comfortable green furniture served to hold both books and refreshments, depending on what was needed at the time. 

An impressive glass chandelier hung from the impossibly high ceiling in the middle of the room, although it was seldom used. Smaller chandeliers had been placed on the underside of the gallery at regular intervals. Also, several dozen lamps rested on the surfaces at the main reading area as well as near every cozy little book nook hidden by the tall rows of bookcases in the middle of the room. 

That day, the chandelier was not lit and nor were the lamps in the reading niches. Two out of three lights on the gallery underbelly were off. Only the reading area was fully lit, immediately drawing attention to the sofas and end tables, one of which had a broad assortment of refined finger food and a tea set waiting to be poured on the old expensive china.

Matt was standing next to the window, looking royal as ever with his back to the library door. His hands were folded behind his back as he stared into the night.