She had no specific duties in the house, but had something to say about everything. Mrs. Fausset’s French maid and Mildred’s German maid were at one in their detestation of Bell; but both were eminently civil to that authority.
From the hour of Fay’s advent in Upper Parchment Street, Bell had set her face against her. In the first place, she had not been taken into Mr. and Mrs. Fausset’s confidence about the girl. She had not been consulted or appealed to in any way; and, in the second place, she had been told that her bedroom would be wanted for the new-comer, and that she must henceforward share a room with one of the housemaids, an indignity which this superior person keenly felt.
Nor did Fay do anything to conciliate this domestic power. Fay disliked Bell as heartily as Bell disliked Fay. She refused all offers of service from the confidential servant at the outset, and when Bell wanted to help in unpacking her boxes—perhaps with some idea of peering into those details of a girl’s possessions which in themselves constitute a history—Fay declined her help curtly, and shut the door in her face.
Bell had sounded her mistress, but had obtained the scantiest information from that source. A distant connection of Mr. Fausset’s—his ward, an heiress. Not one detail beyond this could Bell extract from her mistress, who had never kept a secret from her. Evidently Mrs. Fausset knew no more.
“I must say, ma’am, that for an heiress the child has been sadly neglected,” said Bell. “Her under-linen was all at sixes and sevens till I took it in hand; and she came to this house with her left boot worn down at heel. Her drawers are stuffed with clothes, but many of them are out of repair; and she is such a wilful young lady that she will hardly let me touch her things.”
Bell had a habit of emphasising personal pronouns that referred to herself.
“You must do whatever you think proper about her clothes, whether she likes it or not,” answered Mrs. Fausset, standing before her glass, and giving final touches to the feathery golden hair which her maid had arranged a few minutes before. “If she wants new things, you can buy them for her from any of my tradespeople. Mr. Fausset says she is to be looked after in every way. You had better not go to Bond Street for her under-linen. Oxford Street will do; and you need not go to Stephanie for her hats. She is such a very plain girl that it would be absurd—cruel even—to dress her like Mildred.”
“Yes, indeed, it would, ma’am,” assented Bell; and then she pursued musingly: “If it was a good school she was at, all I can say is that the wardrobe-woman was a very queer person to send any pupil away with her linen in such a neglected state. And as for her education, Miss Colville says she is shockingly backward. Miss Mildred knows more geography and more grammar than that great overgrown girl of fourteen.”
Mrs. Fausset sighed.
“Yes, Bell, she has evidently been neglected; but her education matters very little. It is her disposition I am anxious about.”