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nicely.”
     
    But wait I would have to do.
    Mrs. Crankshaw had kept me a full hour longer, first detailing her litany of rules and expectations for all female household staff and then explaining what had already been done for the upcoming garden party and ball. The musicians had been engaged, but the menus were still in dispute. I still had the invitations to complete and address, of course, but luckily for me, Mrs. Pemberton, the previous secretary, had already supplied Madam with a guest list for both. My task was to see to the minor adjustments that would need to be made to the guest list as the event approached, such as cancellations due to illness, unexpected travel, or Mrs. Mayhew’s fickle opinion that a guest was “no longer suitable.” I could only imagine what that could mean.
    I then spent two more hours arranging for someone to retrieve my trunk and hatboxes. I had numerous exasperating conversations, going back and forth between Elmer, the coachman, and Mr. Davies, the butler. As there had been no word from Mrs. Mayhew, the coachman was unwilling to accommodate me. Only when a call came that Mr. Mayhew was arriving on the early morning steamer was Mr. Davies able to convince the coachman to pick up my things on the way to the wharf. But that meant that I would be without a change of clothes, toiletries, or a proper box for my hat until the next morning. With nothing left to do and, despite my exhaustion, no inclination for sleep, I brought out Sir Arthur’s manuscript and set up my typewriter on the desk in my sitting room. I’d never used a desk that dwarfed my little typewriter. I was thrilled. I found blank paper in the closet and set to typing. Calm and composure settled over me as the steady, familiar clicking and clanking of the keys hitting paper filled my new home. After only two pages, I staggered to my feet, found my way to the bedroom, and for the second time today collapsed onto the bed fully dressed. But this time I had a smile on my face.

C HAPTER 5
    I awoke to the sound of my door clicking shut. I bolted upright in bed. My trunk! It sat at the foot of my bed. I had slept so soundly I hadn’t even heard them deliver it.
    I really was tired! I thought. I jumped out of bed, changed my clothes, and splashed water on my face and neck, eager to start my day. I bounded down the back stairs to the kitchen only to find the scullery maid just stoking the oven fire. I was up before the chef and breakfast was an hour away. Even Mrs. Crankshaw was still warm in her bed. Now what did I do? Mrs. Mayhew wouldn’t need me until well after breakfast.
    I’ll go for a hike, I thought enthusiastically. A bit of fresh air would do me wonders. But then I hesitated. Did I dare leave the grounds before requesting permission from Mrs. Mayhew? No, I couldn’t jeopardize my position for a hike, no matter how eager I was to see more of Newport. So I won’t leave the grounds, I thought. With the massive estate stretching from Bellevue Avenue to the ocean cliffs, I’d have more than enough to explore in an hour. I wasn’t used to reporting my comings and goings, but this household was different, or so Mrs. Crankshaw informed me, so I found the kitchen maid Sena, who was busy boiling water for tea and coffee. She was the most senior staff member about. When I told her I would be back well before breakfast and would only be taking a stroll about the grounds, she looked at me with a furrowed brow but nodded her head slowly. She probably wasn’t used to having anyone tell her their comings and goings either.
    Without changing my shoes, I slipped out the servants’ entrance door and immediately found myself facing an immense expanse of perfectly manicured green lawn under the sky, a jumble of puffy clouds ablaze with the pink, purple, and red of dawn. And then I was struck by the alternating rhythmic swish and boom sound of crashing water. How had I not noticed it before? I walked slowly, as if in a dream, drawn to