SHE CAUGHT THE FALLING CHILD FROM THE COLLAPSING BALCONY—UNAWARE THE DUKE SAW EVERYTHING

Chapter 2

The kitchen was warm and loud with weeping. The cook, a broad woman named Mrs. Puddik, clutched her apron to her mouth and made sounds like a frightened bird. The child belonged to the gardener’s sister, who had come to visit that morning and had turned her back for one moment — one moment — while she spoke to the stable boy. She held the boy now, sobbing, covering his face with kisses, and the boy squirmed and laughed because he had already forgotten the whole thing, as children do.

There was tea. There was bread and butter. The child was given a spoonful of honey. The crisis dissolved into the ordinary rhythm of the kitchen.

Viven slipped away.

She went up the servant stair to her room. The room was small and narrow, with a single window that looked out over the stable yard. She had lived in this room for nine years. She had never once called it hers.

She closed the door. She sat on the edge of the narrow bed. She looked at her hand — the palm was torn open, a crescent of raw skin embedded with small bits of gravel. She had not noticed it until now. She began to cry, very quietly, so that no one in the house would hear.