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Sally stood outside with the head laundry maid and a basket of folded pillowcases. The younger girl’s cheeks were scarlet.

“I brought the list, ma’am. You said to leave it upon your desk.”

“So I did,” Mrs. Reynolds replied. “I have not attended to it.”

“The women are waiting to change the spare beds, ma’am,” the laundry maid said. “We cannot get the fresh sheets without the cupboard being opened.”

Elizabeth looked toward the key hanging at Mrs. Reynolds’s waist. So that had been the interruption at the office door. She had not asked what else required the housekeeper’s attention.

“I kept Mrs. Reynolds occupied,” she said. “Sally brought the message exactly as she ought. The delay has nothing to do with her.”

The laundry maid’s expression altered. “I beg your pardon, miss. I did not know there was company.”

“There is no need to beg mine. Sally was the person you supposed had forgotten.”

The woman turned to Sally. “Well, I am sorry for that. You might have said Mrs. Reynolds was with Miss Bennet.”

“She was not obliged to explain my business,” Mrs. Reynolds said. She fetched the list from her desk and unhooked her keys. “Come along. We shall put this right.”

Elizabeth remained in the doorway as the women went down the passage. She heard Sally offer to carry the second basket, too, and the housekeeper tell her that there was no need to carry twice what she could comfortably manage.

Upon the little table lay four pieces of knotted thread. For the sake of making them move, Elizabeth had kept a woman from her work, left two others waiting, and nearly allowed a girl to be blamed for obeying an instruction.

When Mrs. Reynolds returned, Elizabeth had gathered the threads into their box.

“We must choose another time,” she said.

“Yes, miss. But the key is mine, and so was the promise to open that cupboard. You must not take all the blame merely because I have allowed somebody else to receive it.”

“Can Sally not help with the lists? She knew what they wanted.”

“She can learn.” Mrs. Reynolds smoothed the paper upon her desk. “I have had the doing of it so long that I sometimes forget there is another way than waiting for me.”

On Monday morning Sally spent half an hour with the housekeeper, learning which shelves held the sheets for the different beds. When Elizabeth saw her afterwards, the girl carried a little book and looked considerably less anxious.

“She says I may have the linen key when she is occupied, miss, if I first show her what is wanted.”

“I am very glad of it.”

“She made me write the list twice.”

“Was the first incorrect?”

“No, miss. She could not read it.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Then she has already taught you something useful.”

Mrs. Reynolds could spare them an hour that afternoon. She chose it herself, after the linen had been distributed, and told Elizabeth where they might go without finding a table laid or a household task waiting. Beyond the kitchen garden stood a smaller enclosure where Carr kept herbs and cuttings. The gardener had left two damaged little pots upon a bench for the housekeeper to examine.

“He knows that I use the herbs, miss. I asked whether he had anything which might recover with care. He need not know what sort of care we mean.”

Elizabeth looked at a bent sprig of thyme. “And if it grows through the wall?”

“We shall begin with less enthusiasm.”

They set the pot upon a cloth. Elizabeth touched one drooping stem with a single finger and tried to think only of its standing upright. Nothing happened.

She tried again. The little leaves trembled, but a breeze had crossed the garden, and neither woman would count it as success.