She scolds me with her eyes, cold and unfeeling. They are not warm and caring like Mother-Desmond's. I timidly set a silver platter of cucumber sandwiches on the coffee table before exiting the room. "My apologies, Madame Fishwife," I say with bowed head, heading toward the door.

"What was that?" comes Madame Fishwife's icy tone from behind me.

"I beg your pardon," I reply, turning to face her. She is livid! Edmund sits farther off, coughing as if to dislodge something caught in his throat.

"Fishwife, did you say?" my mistress asks with ire.

"Yes, Madame. Mother-Desmond said that I would be under your command as a maid in this house. He said that you were called Madame Fishwife," I answer honestly.

"Did he now?" Her eyes narrow. "In future, you will address me as Miss Krokrygg, do you understand?" I nod obediently and smile broadly. My congenial reaction doesn't inspire a like demeanour from my mistress, however. "Now," she continues, "there is much to do before the party this evening, and Patience and Mel cannot do it all by themselves. You will clean the dining room, foyer, and parlour."

"Already done, Miss Krokrygg," I answer. She doesn't appear to believe me. Mother-Desmond told me that I would impress Edmund and Madame Fishwife with my abilities. He said that what takes most maids several hours to do I can do in only a few minutes. He also says that not many maids can lift their beds over their heads. Being able to do such things seems a must in a house such as this. How else does a maid clean behind and underneath furniture?