The Bed You Make
Chapter 27, concluded
The faint rattle of fine china against sterling silver alerted Dara to the maid's presence in the suite. She moved to the bathroom door. “Breakfast was excellent as always,” Dara called out. “Please thank the staff for me, Amynta.”
“It is Jenna, Madam.” She was the shorter of the two maids most often seen with Mrs. Landsbury. “But I will pass your compliments along to the staff.”
“Thank you.” Dara gave the young woman a quick smile and turned back to the mirror. She expertly applied her lipstick; the rich plum color gave Dara's full lips just a hint of poutiness.
“Will you be needing anything else, Madam?” Jenna stood just inside the doorway watching Dara intently. Dara often got the impression from the young woman that she was a fascinating subject for the maid to contemplate.
“No. That's all. You may go.”
Jenna retrieved the discarded breakfast tray. “Enjoy your evening in Manhattan,” she nodded.
Dara paused in the act of blotting her lips. “My evening in Manhattan?”
“Yes. Master Stefan has arranged for the two of you to spend the evening in Manhattan before-”
Mrs. Landsbury's sudden appearance interrupted the young maid's next words to Dara. The Cassadine housekeeper had suspected, when Jenna did not return in a timely manner, that the young woman had disregarded her explicit instructions to simply retrieve the breakfast tray and return to the kitchen. ““You are needed in the kitchen,” Mrs. Landsbury said simply. “Go. Now.”
The quiet command, tinged with just a hint of irritation, sent the maid Jenna scurrying from the room. It was generally agreed upon among the other servants that the young woman had an excellent work ethic, but had not learned the discretion and self-restraint needed by domestics in Cassadine employ. American television and print media had undoubtedly served to encourage the young woman's misguided sense of familiarity with members of the family she served.
“I apologize, Miss Dara, for Jenna's unseemly familiarity.”
Dara shook her head. “That isn't necessary, Mrs. Landsbury,” she replied. “I think it's actually more curiosity than anything. I don't imagine that I am a typical Cassadine bride.”
Mrs. Landsbury did not dispute the point. “Nonetheless,” she insisted, “it will not happen again.”
Dara merely shrugged. The Cassadine housekeeper kept the members of the staff running like a well-oiled machine. Whatever decisions she made regarding that machine required no approval from Dara. If Mrs. Landsbury saw fit to reprimand the young maid, she would find no resistance from Dara.
“What,” Dara changed the subject, “was Jenna about to say when you walked in? That Stefan and I are headed to Manhattan before ….”
“That information should come from Master Stefan.” The housekeeper skillfully deflected Dara's question.
“That's okay, Mrs. Landsbury. I think you just gave me my answer. And it would certainly explain the air of… purpose everyone is moving around with this morning.” Dara quirked a finely manicured brow. “Could it be that Manhattan is just a layover before Stefan takes me home to meet the family?”
