Langdown Manor Read Online Free

young Ivy. We didn’t know a lot about her either. But if this afternoon was anything to go by, I didn’t see her lasting long.

U PSTAIRS

    â€˜Wake up, miss.’
    â€˜Leave me be,’ I murmured. My head felt heavy with sleep.
    â€˜I must ask you to get up, miss.’ I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I shook it away in surprise. What did my ayah think she was doing? She’d never laid a finger on me before. I was missy sahib and she did what I ordered – not the other way around.
    â€˜Leave me, Shamala. I’ll call you if I want you,’ I said.
    â€˜I don’t know who Sh-Shamla is, miss, but I have to get you up and dressed. Dinner’s in half an hour.’ It didn’t sound like Shamala. I rolled over and opened my eyes. I was still drowsily expecting to see an Indian face peering anxiously at me from behind a mosquito net. Instead I found myself staring into the face of a girl I’d never seen before. She was looking at me nervously – as if she wasn’t sure what I’d do or say next.
    â€˜Who are you?’ I demanded.
    â€˜Baxter, miss.’ She bobbed a curtsy. ‘Her ladyship’s asked me to attend on you.’
    â€˜Baxter’s an odd name,’ I commented.
    â€˜It’s a common enough name in England, miss.’
    I felt my head begin to clear. Of course, I was in England now.
    â€˜What’s your first name?’ I asked.
    The maid looked awkward. ‘You should call me Baxter, miss.’
    â€˜Well, leave me, Baxter,’ I said dismissively. ‘I don’t need you.’ The maid gaped at me as if I had been rude. I couldn’t think why. She was a servant. She had to do what I said.
    â€˜I must ask you to get up, miss. It’s half-past seven and her ladyship expects you downstairs.’
    In India servants did what they were told. In England, it seemed, it was different. It was one more thing I was going to have to get used to.
    I sat up and swung my legs wearily to the floor.
    â€˜Begging your pardon, miss, but you’ll need to change.’
    Did I? I looked down at myself. My gown was crumpled from lying on it. I sighed. All my clothes were still in my trunk, and it was locked. I took the key off the chain I wore around my neck and slipped off the bed. I unlocked the trunk and began to burrow down inside it.
    â€˜Miss, you don’t need to do that. I’ll unpack for you!’ Baxter exclaimed.
    â€˜No!’ I didn’t want her to unpack. I didn’t want anyone rifling through Mother’s things. They were precious.
    Baxter looked confused. ‘But, miss…’
    â€˜I must take a few things out first,’ I said, fingers diving beneath my clothes searching for where the letters and Mother’s things were tucked away – the long white kid gloves, the jewels, ribbons, sashes and silk scarves.
    As I stood up again I saw Baxter’s face reflected in the mirror. She looked upset, and I felt that I’d offended her. She was younger than I’d thought at first, around the same age as me. It was the hair scraped back under the white cap that made her seem older.
    I took the precious bundle and laid the garments carefully in one of the drawers in the dressing table. When she’d finished unpacking, I’d put them back in the trunk and lock it again. No one but me was allowed to touch Mother’s things.
    â€˜Now you may unpack,’ I said, standing aside.
    Baxter bent down and began to lift out my gowns. ‘Bit thin, aren’t they, miss?’ she commented. Then she went pink, as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have. ‘Sorry, miss.’
    â€˜I’ve just come from India, which is a much hotter country than this,’ I said. I sat down on the bed and pulled a blanket round me. Why hadn’t anyone told me how cold England was? A gale was still blowing in the room.
    â€˜And they’ll need pressing, too, miss,’