Everyone looked up. Mrs. Latch laid her carving-knife on the meat and fixed her eyes on her son.
"Lady?" said Sarah; "she's no lady! Her mother used to mop out the yard before she was 'churched.'"
"I can tell you what," said William, "you had better mind what you are a-saying of, for if any of your talk got wind upstairs you'd lose yer situation, and it might be some time before yer got another!"
"Lose my situation! and a good job, too. I shall always be able to suit mesel'; don't you fear about me. But if it comes to talking about situations, I can tell you that you are more likely to lose yours than I am to lose mine."
William hesitated, and while he sought a judicious reply Mrs. Latch and Mr. Leopold, putting forth their joint authority, brought the discussion to a close. The jockey-boys exchanged grins, Sarah sulked, Mr. Swindles pursed up his mouth in consideration, and the elder servants felt that the matter would not rest in the servant's hall; that evening it would be the theme of conversation in the "Red Lion," and the next day it would be the talk of the town.
About four o'clock Esther saw Mrs. Barfield, Miss Mary, and Peggy walk across the yard towards the garden, and as Esther had to go soon after to the wood-shed she saw Peggy slip out of the garden by a bottom gate and make her way through the evergreens. Esther hastened back to the kitchen and stood waiting for the bell to ring. She had not to wait long; the bell tinkled, but so faintly that Esther said, "She only just touched it; it is a signal; he was on the look-out for it; she did not want anyone else to hear."
Esther remembered the thousands of pounds she had heard that the young lady possessed, and the beautiful dresses she wore. There was no hope for her. How could there be? Her poor little wages and her print dress! He would never look at her again! But oh! how cruel and wicked it was! How could one who had so much come to steal from one who had so little? Oh, it was very cruel and very wicked, and no good would come of it either to her or to him; of that she felt quite sure. God always punished the wicked. She knew he did not love Peggy. It was sin and shame; and after his promises—after what had happened. Never would she have believed him to be so false. Then her thought turned to passionate hatred of the girl who had so cruelly robbed her. He had gone through that baize door, and no doubt he was sitting by Peggy in the new drawing-room. He had gone where she could not follow. He had gone where the grand folk lived in idleness, in the sinfulness of the world and the flesh, eating and gambling, thinking of nothing else, and with servants to wait on them, obeying their orders and saving them from every trouble. She knew that these fine folk thought servants inferior beings. But was she not of the same flesh and blood as they? Peggy wore a fine dress, but she was no better; take off her dress and they were the same, woman to woman.
She pushed through the door and walked down the passage. A few steps brought her to the foot of a polished oak staircase, lit by a large window in coloured glass, on either side of which there were statues. The staircase sloped slowly to an imposing landing set out with columns and blue vases and embroidered curtains. The girl saw these things vaguely, and she was conscious of a profusion of rugs, matting, and bright doors, and of her inability to decide which door was the drawing-room door—the drawing-room of which she had heard so much, and where even now, amid gold furniture and sweet-scented air, William listened to the wicked woman who had tempted him away from her. Suddenly William appeared, and seeing Esther he seemed uncertain whether to draw back or come forward. Then his face took an expression of mixed fear and anger; and coming rapidly towards her, he said—
"What are you doing here?"… then changing his voice, "This is against the rules of the 'ouse."
"I want to see her."