With pomp and circumstance in a steam-car

"Well, Hawkins," Lucy said, nodding to her new servant, "and well, Mrs. Cook," she said, styling Chop-Chop with her new courtesy title, "Let us plan our grand entrance to Old Netherwood." She shook her head, gathering herself. "And well, Mistress Lucy...Netherwood," she added, underlining the name that Lord Jeremy's bequest had saddled her with. Lord Jeremy...her father. Maggie Longbottom had hardly been a paramour, more a conveniently available figure of yielding curves for Jeremy to earth his lust. Had he done well for Maggie and Lucy, or shamefully? Lucy could not tell. But to do well for Annie, needs must Lucy step up to her new rôle as Mistress Netherwood, châtelaine.

"Hawkins, do you think an electromotive could be obtained?" Lucy said, remembering the fine car that Henshawe, Hawke, and Prune had sent to fetch them all to the reading of Jeremy's will.

"Not in these parts," Hawkins said. "But we could hire a grand steam-car. They use them to go out on shooting-parties. Well, picnics, really, but they call them shooting-parties. Given the weather, we should have no competition for them."

The grey drizzle outside the compartment testified to Hawkins' confidence.

"I don't know that I should ask the staff to turn out on the lawn if the rain holds," Lucy said. "All right, then, steam-car. Now as to our first order of business once we arrive..."

Cook sharpened her precious knives and listened to Lucy and Hawkins planning their approach. She guided them with a sharp word or two when the two upstairs folk seemed near to going off into the weeds. She nodded. They could work with Hawkins. Bit of a shock to walk in on him and the conductor, she hadn't thought he bent that way. Nor did Hawkins, to hear him tell it. Skewering his fellow man's bum was a vice of convenience until the day when the right young lady should present herself. Convenience, purely and surely.

"Hmmph," Carlotta punctuated her thoughts.

"What was that, Cook?" Lucy said. "Did you have a different thought upon the second footman?"

"No, carry on, Miss Lucy," Carlotta said. "He's a bad 'un. Out." She put the kitchen knife and whetstone away and closed the case. The rumble of the railroad carriage would ruin her work, like as not, if she had to talk and listen as well. "What of the housekeeper?"

"I thought she was a pilferer, but you thought we should keep her," Lucy said. "Does she have family?"

"Eh," Chop-Chop said noncommittally.

"Son and daughter up to London," Hawkins said. "Son drives a cab. Daughter...millinery work I think?"

"Oh, millinery work do they call it?" Chop-Chop said with scorn. "Prancing round in a hat until some gentleman..."

"Oh, leave off, Cook," Lucy said.

"Sorry Miss Lucy," Carlotta said, straightening up. "Hem."

Lucy said, "After we learn what we need from her, let's pay her leave for a family visit. I'm sure it's been some time."

The three of them went through their arrival plan. They would stay overnight in town. Hawkins would engage a steam-car and driver to bring them to Old Netherwood. Lucy would don her fine new dress and practice being a convincing picture of Mistress Netherwood. Cook would sharpen her knives and put on a fresh apron. And off they would go, and there they would be, and they would take things in turn.

For Annie, Lucy thought as she put her head upon the pillow that night.

It was another gray, drizzly day on the edge of the moors as the grand steam-car approached the country house Lucy knew as Old Netherwood. The dark tangles of the Wood, the ripples of the Water reflecting the pewter-gray sky, and the old stone manse at the head of the lawn.